Debris

by kumulonimbus

"His past was Medusa, she finally understood; it could turn him into stone the minute he dared look back." Erron Black crosses paths with a woman that will jeopardize his future by awakening his past. As he gravitates helplessly towards his long-lost yesteryears, he shall find himself trapped between this woman seeking his help and the dangerous rebel-seekers trying to get to them.

39. State your Business

Arc IV

Chapter XXXIX

State your Business

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"What he wants, what he needs, what he fears... the depths of it... they are profound and dark. […] I've descended into those depths and connected with him […]. But I am acutely aware that I'm not the first to have been there... to have been a partner to him in this way. And that the ones that have seen those depths before... they never surfaced again."

Black Sails ― S03E06

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There was always something whimsical about the end of the carnival. A certain sadness, tarnished by the nostalgia of knowing that now, it would take a whole new year for them to be able to experience such a night again. A certain exhaustion, visible through the still-present effects of the alcohol and the excesses they had enjoyed the night before. Dark clouds surrounding their eyes and the rain… the incessant rain, still falling and washing the heat away from streets that have seen too much.

That very same rain they had been waiting for so long now, like a blind man's prayer waiting to see the fatuous, flashing lights during the night, was now being perceived in a completely different way.

The initial relief had subsided rather quickly, succumbing to the sad realization that now, the silver curtain pouring from the heavens above was simply an annoyance; a vague excuse forcing everyone to stay indoors with their families.

The litter still polluting the streets, the many insects assaulting the leftovers from the night before and the canopy of dark clouds threatening the whole city were all somber thoughts swimming in Rosario's head. The old Peruvian woman was sitting on the front porch, her back leaned against the doorframe.

"So I told her: you said so many bad things about him and now this – you must be truly desperate to share a bed with this man without throwing up all over the place…"

Inside the brothel, El-A was still going on about the events of the previous night. A small group of young girls had gathered around her, eager to listen to the latest round of gossip.

"What can I tell you, my friends? She seemed so classy before… guess she is what she is, Earthrealm scum, trust me, there's just nothing more to that woman. And the worst part is we don't even know who she really is."

"She seemed so classy, you say, El-A – but she ended up being his whore anyways," Fá was helping her friend spark the fire inside the rest of the group; the seed of discord had been finally planted.

"And then what happened?" One of the younger girls asked, longing to hear more.

"Then…" El-A paused briefly, looking for effect and drama, "then I broke free from her grip – did I mention she was holding me by my forearm, her eyes so vicious and cold I really feared for my life? So I broke free, and just like Fá said, I told her that she was his whore… she looked me in the eye and said: 'Yes, I am his whore, but such activities are bound to remain in the privacy of our bedchamber.' The nerve… Can you believe this woman?"

"Our bedchamber?" The girls asked in unison, completely shocked by El-A's version of the story.

Exhaling loudly, and still sitting on the front porch, Rosario stretched one of her arms and closed the door behind her, leaving the girls alone with their fantasies. In less than twelve hours she had heard El-A telling the same story over and over again; the details getting more and more exaggerated every time. Placing her cold hands on her knees, the manager of the House of Pleasure observed the doctor out in the street, picking up the many empty bottles still resting at the sides of the road. The woman hadn't said a word since the incident; the dark and soulless vacuum in her eyes was speaking about an extinguished fire: that woman didn't want to fight El-A, she didn't even have the strength to deny the versions revolving all around her.

"In spite of the rain, I say today's a good day for shopping," Rosario said softly, without even looking at her friend.

"What do you need to buy?" With a completely colorless voice, the doctor replied skeptically. Her hands and her eyes still busy with the bottles discarded all around her.

"Silk and different fabrics."

"What for?" Alexandra questioned, finally walking towards the old lady.

"I hate talking shit about one of my own, but that little bitch is getting problematic. And with everyone still recovering from the carnival and the rain, it could take days for our customers to come back – until that happens, the only activity that's left for them to do is talk, and talk and talk and then, talk some more." The doctor stretched one of her hands for Rosario to stand up. "Now I don't know what the hell happened last night, but I'm not buying her story. Our only problem is that those girls clearly are." She looked over her shoulder and watched them all gathered inside: El-A was still the center of attraction, her story had captivated every single one of the girls and now they were all there, right next to her, listening to her endless stories. "The wine, the rain, and the endless vomiting ruined many skirts and dresses last night; I want to give them something to do to pass the time – maybe sewing some new dresses will keep their mouths shut."

"Sounds like wishful thinking to me, unless you're planning on sewing their lips together," the doctor spat coldly with her hands at the sides of her waist and a scornful smile adorning her darkened features.

"Don't give me any ideas…"

They started to walk in the rain, their heads and shoulders covered by their long, black capes. The city was empty; those streets were still recovering from the sights they had seen the night before.

"I doubt we're going to find any merchants in the Marketplace with this rain…" the doctor whispered as they crossed the street.

"We're not going to the Marketplace, dear," The Peruvian manager replied simply, "this is something you need to learn: whenever you need supplies for the House of Pleasure, whatever kind of supply you may need, never go to the Marketplace – go straight for the merchants."

"Why?" Alexandra asked, mildly curious.

"No taxes."

In the late hours of the evening, Rosario's lesson ricocheted through the quiet houses breathing life into the stony neighborhood. Windows closed and doors locked, the sleepy residents had created a ghost town for them to explore on their own.

"We shouldn't take long," Alexandra said, "who knows the things she'll tell them while we're gone."

Rosario smiled disdainfully, a bitter gesture taking over her old features: "She's gonna tell them what she wants anyway – whether we're there to listen to it or not is purely anecdotic by now."

The doctor stopped and grabbed her friend by the shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about what really happened last night?" She offered genuinely, but Rosario shook her head in silence and resumed her march, leaving her friend behind momentarily. When Alex caught up to her, the dull, lackluster bitterness written all over Rosario's face sent shivers down her spine: Rosario was reaching the end of her tether, she was getting tired of their games and intrigues – and it was obvious that their many overlapping plots were tarnishing their friendship.

"Not now," Rosario whispered, patting Alex's shoulder.

The transaction went smoothly as expected: they had acquired seven different types of fabric and four different colors of silk – burgundy, purple, blue and black and the tax-free, final price had been way cheaper than what the doctor had in mind. Shaking the merchant's hand, Rosario arranged the last details of their purchase by making sure the items would be delivered to The House of Pleasure first thing in the morning. As they left the merchant's place the doctor grinned, satisfied: she had always hated the Marketplace.

She had never been fond of crowded places so learning that she would never have to visit the Marketplace in order to buy supplies for The House of Pleasure was reassuring, especially now that they had moved the stalls to the Kobe as an attempt to settle the commercial district around a whole new area after the first attack that had successfully destroyed the original Marketplace. The place where the original Marketplace had been was now a memorial monument, embodied by the shape of a large statue of the emperor himself, surrounded by the agonizing victims kissing their lives goodbye at his feet. Many merchants had complained about moving their stalls to the Kobe, adducing that the odor and the pollution of the zone could be potentially dangerous to the goods they were trying to sell – but the Palace went ahead and made it official anyway, forcing them to settle around the entrance of the docks and luring them with promises about a better future; a better future they were still waiting for.

"What?" Rosario asked, noticing the doctor smiling.

"Nothing, it's just… thanks for the advice," she said timidly. "You know how I hate the Marketplace, so…"

"I didn't do it for you, I did it for The House of Pleasure. Like I said, and you saw with your own eyes: no taxes," Rosario replied coldly.

"Yes, but anyway… the fact that you trusted me with this secret means you still have faith in me," Alex clarified, "that means a lot to me; means you still want me as your successor."

"Don't push your luck, kid."

Noticing her friend's hardened expression, the doctor chose to remain silent from that point on. Guided by Rosario's steps, the younger woman followed her friend through the now nocturnal streets until she realized they weren't making their way back to the brothel: they were walking East now, approaching a part of the neighborhood the doctor had never seen before.

"What do we need to buy now?" Alexandra asked, worried.

"Nothing."

"But the brothel's that way," the doctor insisted, her index finger pointing Southwest.

"I know."

The buildings were lower now and the lights in the streets were dim and gloomy. The urban planning for that part of the city looked just like a maze composed by narrower alleys and vaulted rooftops they couldn't even use as decoys to pinpoint their exact, current location. Worried and scared, the doctor stopped and thought about turning around and going back to the brothel, but night had already wrapped them up in its obsidian blanket and she had no idea where she was. She looked over her shoulder only to find Rosario still marching ahead, unperturbed; her pace determined yet calm. The doctor hurried her steps and held her friend by the elbow, forcing the older woman to turn around and look at her but the second she did so, both women noticed a diversity of dark silhouettes lurking around every corner. The sounds of their renewed footsteps in the rain were the only sounds left in the night as those eyes pried on them; their blurry shapes venturing that dark, godforsaken alley.

Rosario searched through the creases of her cape until she found a handful of silver coins. Nodding silently in front of the doctor and indicating her friend to remain quiet, the old, Peruvian lady threw her coins one by one until the cold palm of her hand was empty – the silhouettes came to light then, crouching their way around them like wounded animals. The homeless beggars collected the coins in silence as the doctor stood petrified in the middle of the narrow path but while many of them disappeared from her sight in the blink of an eye, others chose to be persistent, mesmerized by the shape and the perfume of a woman. Trembling, Alexandra closed her eyes the second she felt those filthy hands traveling near her ankles and moving up her calves. Rosario's walking stick shooed them away rather easily, causing those last remaining beggars to run away from them.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, the doctor braced herself before Rosario indicated her it was time for them to keep going. A couple of blocks ahead, the manager of the House of Pleasure stopped and walked through a thin green curtain that was clearly acting as a front door. A short, windowless corridor received them then, with two doors at the right and only one door at the left. There were many leaks in the roof; the dirty raindrops falling all around them were now mixed with the rust emanating from the damaged pipes visible through the fragile ceiling above them.

With her eyes too busy staring at the amber-colored drops falling from the roof, the doctor bumped into a man standing all alone in a corner, facing the wall in front of him with one of his hands glued to the naked structure. The middle-aged man cursed under his breath as the doctor apologized, noticing with gruesome repulsion what it was that he was doing: he was peeing the wall. Disgusted and shocked, Alexandra hurried her pace and quickly left the man behind – Rosario was already standing in front of the last door, knocking gently.

A confused Erron Black met them at the other side of the door.

"Ros, what are you…?" He began, but the words in his tongue stopped the second he noticed the doctor approaching. "What's going on?"

Using her walking stick to make room for her to come inside his house, the manager of The House of Pleasure made her way through the small, untidy room and turned around.

"Time for a social visit, Erron; it was long overdue, anyway. Sorry, we came uninvited."

The mercenary, still standing by the door, extended his hand for the doctor to come inside his house and the woman took it, her pace slow and cautious. Black closed the door and moved away from Alexandra, silently evaluating her reactions: she was pacing around the room now, looking defeated and somewhat frustrated by the poor conditions of the place where he lived now. There was just one old, creaking cot placed against one of the walls, and a lonely wooden chair resting right next to it. At the other side of the room there were two white basins on the floor – a small one and a medium-sized one; behind them, and with barely enough space to serve its purpose, the filthy latrine completed the picture. Alexandra looked over her shoulder, making an ulterior effort not to seem nosy or disgusted by her surroundings – it had been so hard for them to open up to each other she didn't want to risk it all by filling her eyes with pity for a man who had once enjoyed the honeyed zeniths of life in the Royal Palace.

"It's Ok," Black tried to comfort her. "It's not as bad as it looks," he said as he placed his arms around her shoulders and motioned her towards the cot, indicating the doctor to sit down. Rosario was already sitting on the precarious bed, her walking stick resting against the wall.

"So, judging by the look on your face, I take it you've never been here before…" The Peruvian lady broke the uncomfortable silence. "Good. I needed to make sure we were on the same page." Alexandra opened her mouth to protest but Rosario went on: "When El-A came to me and told me all about the events of last night, I told her it was just a pet name. But when she didn't find an ally in me, she went on, and began telling the story – the slightly exaggerated version of the story, that is – to the rest of the girls. She's trying to form an alliance; it doesn't take a scientist to know it: that little bitch is gathering supporters from the inside…"

"I still don't understand what is it that we're trying to do here," the doctor finally spoke up.

"I'm merely trying to connect the dots, dear," Rosario offered, "I told El-A it was just a pet name, and make no mistake: a part of me wants that to be true but I'm not twelve anymore and I don't believe in fairy tales: this man cried for you, he told me you were the daughter of an old friend of his - but we all know that's not true. Something is good, though: I brought you here on purpose, I needed to see your reactions and boy, are they clear enough to me. He can't stand the stupor in your eyes; he doesn't want you to see this shithole where he lives in now… and you're dying to throw your arms around him and tell him everything's going to be alright because you didn't know about any of this, you had no clue that this pathetic room is the only thing that's left of the great, the fearsome Erron Black. This means you've never been here before; this means your interactions with this man only took place inside the brothel and that, my child, means that you haven't been plotting behind my back."

Black curled his hands into tight fists, but the doctor leaned forward, cupping his hands with her own.

"We need to tell her, Alex," he whispered, defeated.

The doctor shook her head, but it was too late: the cowboy opened up and spilled all their secrets, finally sharing the story of how a mercenary that can't age came to meet a doctor named Alexandra Flynn. Rosario listened carefully as the entire intrigue of their bond impregnated the whole room, leaving her breathless and completely speechless.

"Maybe I should just disappear for a couple of days," the doctor suggested, noticing Rosario's saddened expression. Her friend's insufferable silence was taking its toll on her: Black was right, she should have trusted Rosario all along; the woman was the closest thing she had to a mother after all and she had lied to her face, she had let her down.

"Only those who got somethin' to hide disappear," Black replied calmly, his eyes never leaving Rosario's.

It took her a moment to find her own voice inside the convoluted mess of mixed emotions boiling up inside her chest. The old, Peruvian woman was hurt – her friend had hurt her, and now the scar was there, damaging her emotions and tearing up her heart. She had chosen Alex to be her successor – she had offered that woman her friendship, her motherly guidance for the doctor to bloom after so much suffering; she had defended her, protected her, trusted her… It wasn't that the doctor's secrets were so terrible that she felt she was being forced to meet a brand new person but still she felt betrayed by her nonetheless, in the most intimate redoubts of her soul.

"El-A has plucked up her courage," Rosario finally said, her voice tentative, as if searching somewhere deep inside her soul for strength, "she knows with absolute certainty that the members of El Club want her as my successor, and the fact that Black attacked her when we found out about the missing wine is only going to become beneficial for her in the long run." The old woman looked up, then she let her eyes find the doctor who was staring right back at her. "When I ushered you both upstairs last night, they mentioned it. They said they didn't want Black anywhere near the brothel, especially now that El-A had been attacked by him. We need to make sure the only thing she heard last night was your name, Dakota…" she paused, visibly moved, "I mean, Alexandra… if the only thing she's got on you is a name, then we'll be alright, but if she heard more than that, if she heard something else, something other than your name, then we'll be in trouble."

It took all her strength, but the doctor took a deep breath, and finally asked: "You still want me as your successor?"

"Yes, but not because you deserve it." Brokenhearted, Rosario was letting her pain do the talking. "Because I can't let them win; and with El-A in charge, nothing will stop them."

The doctor looked away, welcoming Rosario's pain as her own. After a brief moment, she stood up, composing herself.

"Maybe we should accept Erron's offer, then. Maybe exclusivity is not such a bad idea," the doctor said, causing both Rosario and Black to look at her with incredulous eyes.

"I don't agree," the manager spoke up. "Personally, it leaves you vulnerable to the whims of just one man. Economically, it's a giant loss."

"Then consider it an investment," the doctor argued, "we could use my working hours for you to teach me everything about the House of Pleasure, the syndicate, the business… use that spare time to train me, to make sure I'll be able to become a good successor when the time comes."

"I like that…" Rosario said, surprised. "But the exposure… the things they would say about you and him; they don't want him, he's not welcome."

"Then she can come over," Black suggested. "If I'm not welcome there, then she can come over here. I know it's not much, but…"

Rosario scratched her chin and shook her head: "That would raise suspicions."

"Maybe, but we can make them see that if I focus all my energy into pleasing this man, I can distract him – I can keep him at bay," the doctor offered. "Ain't that what the syndicate wants, after all? To keep him at bay?"

"But the syndicate doesn't want my successor anywhere near him," Rosario said, trying to talk some sense into them. "I would assume that, by now, El-A's already told her boyfriend about last night. If the boyfriend knows, then every member of El Club knows."

"It could be my sacrifice," Alexandra placed her hands on Black's shoulders and squeezed. "We could tell them that we want him near so we can distract him; you can tell them that, as your successor, I'm willing to sacrifice myself in order to ensure the future of the syndicate – that he can have me if that's what he wants. We can trade information, make sure the garrisons will not interfere. I'll drive him away from them; I myself will be the distraction. Ain't that what a true successor would do to protect her business?"

Black nodded in silence, intertwining his fingers with the doctor's and Rosario sighed helplessly, realizing that her strategy had backfired: she had only wanted to see their faces and their reactions to make sure there were no secret plots going on behind her back, yet she had brought them together, she had united them into one solid strategy.

"I'll think about it," she said as she stood up and made her way to the door. She leaned her back against it, her hands resting at the sides of her body. The doctor motioned towards the manager, but Rosario signaled the woman to stay right where she was.

The look in her eyes had changed – she seemed vulnerable; she was no longer the Queen of the Oppressed.

"I already talked to you separately, but now that you're… together, maybe my message will finally get through to you," she began; her voice lifeless, unfeeling. "I have asked you many times to take good care of her, Erron, but I don't need you to protect her from them; I only need you to protect her from you. And when I said that he couldn't wait for you I wasn't talking about the end of this fucking conflict, I was talking about this…" her hands traveled up and down the sides of her decaying body, only stopping to draw invisible circles around her face. "What you see before you is the manifestation of a future that will catch up to you. This old woman trying to talk some sense into you is simply the talking version of the future woman you'll become, in time." Colors breathing life into her vocal cords, her voice was now a conduit for a tourbillion of emotions to find release. "This old woman, juggling power and adversaries, is the one you shall become. But he – the man you see now, as you see him now, he won't change a bit, dear. But you will. You will be the only one aging. It's terribly cruel, trust me – to watch each wrinkle appear and modify your face, your entire body… He'll notice those wrinkles too, and the way he looks at you now, the way he perceives you now – that is going to change as well."

The mercenary looked down, his hands holding on to the doctor.

"The passionate desire you see now will be gone then; replaced by pity and, every once in awhile, disdain," Rosario remembered. "You'll lose it. Trust me, girl, you will. He'll start slipping through your fingers just like water and you won't be able to stop him anymore, not with hands so weak. You'll wait in vain for visits that are only going to become less and less usual until one day, he won't be back at all. He's gonna find someone younger; someone who can remind him of the precious value of a youth that refuses to leave him and yes, he'll toy with the idea of idolized love once again, for a while, until she starts aging too. I won't tell you what to do, girl – I can't; you're not my daughter. Just know that this is what will happen; because this will happen – whether you like it or not," the manager sentenced. "Just know that, when the time comes, he's gonna leave you behind because watching you age and wither and die is gonna break his heart. He won't be with you in the end, he won't hold your hand because it hurts… and he'll be right: it does hurt, dear. It really does."

As Rosario left Black's place, the doctor and the mercenary stood alone in the center of the room. She caressed his cheekbones, sliding her hands across his nearly bicentennial skin – the cruelty, the bitterness of those words they had just heard was as final as the ulterior truth carried inside each of Rosario's carefully chosen phonemes.

"Go now," he whispered.

The doctor kissed him softly on the lips, tormented by the irrefutable nature of his existence – he was bound to last entire eternities without her; he was bound to leave her behind. She ran through the corridor and out the narrow streets until she found Rosario. They walked in silence all the way back to the brothel, with only the faint sounds of the cold, nocturnal drizzle to keep them company. Lights out, The House of Pleasure had clearly called it a day yet the lonely figure sitting alone by the bar was waiting for them to come home.

"About time," Etienne whispered, stirring the pinkish liquid in his glass.

"Bar's closed," Rosario said, her eyes finding Alex still standing right next to her in the dark room. "Go to bed, sweetheart."

"No, no…" The man stood up and walked up to them. "Don't go to bed yet, sweetheart. A drink?" He offered, but Alexandra shook her head.

"What do you want, Etienne?" Rosario questioned, her patience running out.

The man balanced the glass in his hand then walked back to the bar and beckoned the ladies to join him – Alex sat at his right and Rosario, as usual, placed herself at the other side of the counter.

"We need to talk about last night; my associates and I are in need of a proper, coherent explanation. Dakota? Alexandra?"

"It's just a pet name," Rosario sentenced.

The man smirked, and offered her a disdainful smile: "We understood that letting Black go upstairs with your 'successor' – even when we had made it perfectly clear that he is not welcome here – was a mere exhibit of power… you, old fox, but that transgression paid off in the end, you see. It helped us see that this young lady here is not who she says she is," the way he spoke was truly unnerving: he was polite and straightforward; fancy and yet remarkably impersonal.

The doctor stared at the manager acknowledging the fact that her life was now in Rosario's hands. That woman was her only friend and still, she had betrayed her all the same – it was completely up to Rosario now to remain loyal to their damaged bond or to simply give her up and expose her.

"As I told ya, it's just a pet name," the manager insisted.

The man nodded his head and finished his drink, his blank expression was unreadable: it was impossible to tell if he was satisfied with Rosario's answer or not. He stood up, the empty glass now resting on the bar.

"You know this is your fault, right?" Rosario's words made him stop and turn around.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You talked to El-A, you filled her head with ambition and promises. Now she's chasing ghosts, dividing my own girls… Now she spies on us and when she hears a stupid pet name, she creates entire stories about betrayal and secrecy. This wouldn't be happening if you had waited, if you had trusted me and my decisions," the old, Peruvian lady sentenced.

"We didn't…" Etienne tried to defend himself.

"Of course you did," Rosario interrupted him. "You don't want Dakota to be the manager of this place – you want one of your own. And when I said 'no' you went behind my back and you told El-A she was going to be my successor. She's merely taking out the competition now."

Leaning on the bar, the man caressed the doctor's shoulder: "Even so, this whole Dakota – Alexandra thing is quite bothersome, my dear. So, from now on, no more irregularities, what do you think, Ros?" He smiled and walked up to the door.

"I like the sound of that but it's a two-way street, I'm afraid," Rosario's cold, raspy voice ricocheted through the empty foyer. "No more irregularities, Etienne."

As soon as the unwelcomed intruder had left the building the doctor went upstairs, headed for her bedroom. The corridor was dark and empty yet the yellowish, weak lights coming from the streets below were swirling their way through the thin curtains, exposing more than just the contour of every single piece of furniture displayed along the way.

"Hey!" Alexandra yelled the second she noticed two shadows leaving her room – the first silhouette was hard to recognize but the second one, the one moving faster than her companion, had its long, blonde hair dancing around her shoulders; skinny legs venturing the corridor and getting lost behind another door: Boma, the youngest girl in the brothel, had clearly been recruited by El-A's exaggerated tales. The doctor watched them as they disappeared from her sight then lightly pushed the door of her bedchamber, her feet stumbled upon many of her own boxes, now discarded and scattered carelessly on the floor.

They had searched her room; they had violated her privacy by going through her stuff.

Picking up her belongings one by one, Alexandra sighed and walked up to her bed: the little note caught her eye rather quickly.

'Traitor' it read.

El-A's story was evolving and escalating rapidly. The fake name affair was mutating into something else: now she was talking about betrayal and that concept was surely going to convince every single one of the girls that she was not to be trusted – not as a friend, not as an equal, and definitely not as a leader. How were they supposed to trust her now that she had finally accepted Erron Black in her bed, right after the man had attacked El-A? Covering her face with both her hands, the doctor reclined her back and tried to let go from all the tension still running through her body. She turned and tossed in bed, but slumber was still elusive. Her hands tugged the bedsheets as she turned one more time, the left side of her face buried in the pillow.

Yet the texture grazing her fingertips was different than the silky caress of her bedclothes: it was rough and warmer than it should be.

She sat up on her bed as she examined the garment, moving it slightly between her hands as she tried to recover a sensation that time and distance had buried deep inside of her: his old, red poncho – the one he had wrapped around her shivering shoulders that night by the mountainside, the one she had kept hidden inside her wardrobe for more than a decade now… they had found it; the memory had found her.

She got up quickly and opened the door to her balcony, letting the light in.

Resting on her bedside table, his old and weathered leather mask was unmistakably correcting her memory, molding and shaping the last moments thee had positively shared that night – somewhere down her solitary road, somewhere down the line, her own mind had distorted the memory.

As tears filled her eyes, the doctor finally remembered: the echoes of his abandonment, so powerful and heavy, had blinded her. He had never rejected her that night; he had forsaken her, that much was true, yet he had never rejected her. Black had wrapped his old poncho around her shoulders to keep her warm through the night and he had covered the lower half of her face with his mask so the smoke and the fumes emanating from the fire could not reach her. Then he had kissed her – or he had tried to, his lips motioning near his own old mask, and she had kissed him back, her lips imprisoned by the brown leather covering her mouth.

As she ran her fingertips on her own lips, the woman realized her loneliness had given her extra reasons to hate that man, to hate him more than she should have. He hadn't rejected her; he had longed for her and then, when the memory of his own past washed over him and hit him with the strength of a hurricane, he had left her there, all alone. Yet the tormenting images she had crafted inside her mind – her mouth longing for him and his vicious body quieting down her needs, those images had never been real. Those images were nothing but decoys she had crafter for herself, trying to hate him.

She sat on the floor; his garments now pressed hard against her chest.

The doctor stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, reliving the real images she had buried inside her mind. She got up and picked up her discarded, long, black cape then she folded his poncho and placed it inside her bag along with his old leather mask. The killer heels of her knee-high black boots were not made for running away, she reckoned, but they would have to do. Buttoning up her cape until her grey dress was completely hidden underneath, the woman walked up to the balcony and used the main pipe to descend to the inner courtyard – the girls were sleeping, each room was dark and quiet. She covered her head with the hood of her cape and made her way to the deserted deposit. Meandering through the many boxes and shelves there, and careful as not to make a single sound, the woman opened the back door at her left and ventured the night without looking back.

She crossed the street and turned left, determined to avoid the brothel's main entrance.

Then she ran east, her memory struggling to remember the path they had walked down only hours ago. With her bag still pressed hard against her chest, the woman marched through the night; the feeling of being in imminent danger followed her through the empty streets, a feeling she had never been able to shake, a feeling that had accompanied her ever since Black had left the door opened for her to escape that small, humid cell back in the prison.

As the buildings got lower, she hurried her pace. The maze of narrow streets, stretching itself before her eyes, could not stop her now. She saw the sleeping beggars at the sides of the road but this time, she didn't let her own fears paralyze her. Past the curtain and into the last corridor, she could have been mistaken by a shadow. She stopped to catch her breath in front of the last door – his door. Then she knocked and knocked again and again until a sleepy Erron Black let her in, grabbing her quickly by the shoulders and glancing over the corridor to make sure the woman hadn't been followed.

"Don't worry, nobody knows I'm here," she said, trying to sound reassuring.

Black closed the door and sat on his cot: "This is no neighborhood for a beautiful woman to be walkin' alone this late at night."

She blushed; her cheeks getting instinctively warmer.

Alexandra joined him on the cot and opened her bag, handing him his poncho and his mask. The man took his old garments, surprised.

"You kept them all these years?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" The doctor asked him. "That night… you kissed me, not the other way around. You never rejected me."

"You needed that," Black whispered, as he rested his poncho and his old leather mask on the cot, right next to him.

"But Black…"

"It's been so long, Alex," the mercenary interrupted her, his baritone voice softer than usual. "You needed to hate me, to despise me, I… I can't…"

"But you didn't correct me, you didn't say a word," the doctor retorted. "Last night you said why don't you finish what you started."

The man grinned softly and shrugged his shoulders childishly.

"It worked. Didn't it?"

He kissed the corners of her mouth as her hands traveled his naked torso, but the woman broke the kiss just as the man started to toy with her hair.

"They found these things in my room," she explained. "They went through my stuff."

"El-A?" The mercenary questioned.

"El-A, or the rest of the girls, it doesn't really matter now - she's turning everyone against me," she looked down and took a deep breath.

"Not everyone," Black whispered as he tucked her black hair behind her ears, "Rosario is with you."

The woman scratched the tip of her nose, blue eyes finding him: "Can she be trusted?" she questioned. "Don't get me wrong, I mean… A woman in her position, do you think she supports their cause?"

Black smiled, as he realized she wasn't thinking straight anymore.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "She overhears their conversations whenever a meeting takes place in The House of Pleasure, but she's always balanced that information in her favor," he explained. "You can trust her, in fact – you should have trusted her all along."

She rested her head on his shoulder as she went through the events of the evening. She told him about Etienne, and the girls leaving her room when she went upstairs. The word 'traitor' lingered in her mouth, as if refusing to let her go.

"If they already told El-A that she was gonna be Rosario's successor then the brat won't stop now," Black concluded bitterly. "And what about this man, Etienne, what do we know about him?"

"Not much," Alexandra answered. "He's a complete mystery. All I know is that he's a member of El Club, and he's loaded, so he pays for pretty much everything they need."

"I never heard of him," Black shook his head pensively. "I was once a member of El Club myself, a long time ago, but these names… I don't recognize them."

His time as a member of El Club de los Amantes had been brief and obviously easier than the intricate games this new syndicate was forcing them to play.

"I became a member thanks to Rosario's insistence as soon as I began working as an Official Enforcer – but they're all dead now, there's nothing left of that generation," Black explained as the doctor stared at him with eyes full of surprise. "These members you know, the new ones seeking power, are not the ones I used to work with," he said, crossing his legs. "Things have changed. Back then they would provide me with the information I needed: traffickers, smugglers, you know, everything about the black market. I would catch those criminals and bring them to the emperor, and, in return, he would let me keep some souvenirs from the confiscated items."

"And what did they win, what was in it for them?" Alexandra asked, eager to know why an illegitimate association would shake hands with an Official Enforcer.

"Part of the loot," Black informed her. "I used to share my souvenirs with the members of El Club; they could always re-sell the items and enjoy the benefits of a secure revenue."

"So, in a way, you were the first Rebel-Seeker, then," she laughed at the irony. "Not in terms of delivering rebels or Tarkatans, but with goods and money."

"You could say that… but all this happened way before the Rebel-Seekers."

"So that's how you met Rosario?" The doctor asked but the man scratched the back of his neck and looked down.

"No, we met when she was younger. I was one of her clients."

The woman nodded in silence as soon as he finished his sentence.

"By the time I became a member of El Club I wasn't a client anymore, the only reason for me to visit the House of Pleasure was business."

Rosario's words rang inside her ears for a moment but no matter how painful the answer, she still needed to know.

"Because Rosario was older back then? You stopped being her client because she had aged?"

Black took her hands in his and said: "No, I stopped being her client because I got married to another woman." As the dark shadows left her face, the woman breathed out, finding some sort of relief in his words. "Anyway, that's the story of how a mercenary crossed paths with the few aristocrats of Z'unkahrah… back then when the words honor among thieves actually meant something."

"Maybe we could have done the same thing now…" the doctor sighed. "I could have taken your place at their table."

"Could have?" He asked, puzzled, "You will become Rosario's successor, this entire El-A situation… it won't mean a thing in the end, you'll see."

The woman stood up, placed her hands at the sides of her waist and paced around the room unable to hide her uncertainties.

"I'm not so sure anymore, Black. I just feel like my every plan is falling apart," she searched her pockets for her pack of cigarettes and lit one up, then she offered the little red box for the gunslinger to have a cigar, but the man refused. "You know I never wanted the exposition, so I came up with a plan - I was gonna command from the shadows, using one of the girls as my alibi."

"A scapegoat," Black deduced. "Clever. A front man to cover for you." He crossed his arms over his chest, a dark gesture taking over his face: "So you were gonna take over the place, even if not officially."

The woman nodded.

"Careful, honey. Power corrupts people."

"I take it you talk from experience," she grinned at him, moving near the man still sitting on the cot. "Anyway, now that El-A's busy bitching around, I don't see how I'm gonna do that," Alexandra let out as she sat back down right next to him, her free hand landing on his back, "she's like a conduit for gossip; if she knows it, then everybody knows it."

"What do we have on her?" The mercenary questioned as he stole the cigarette from her lips.

"Not much. Her boyfriend gave her up a couple of years ago and now they're back together but she's still working with us."

"Her boyfriend… the recruiter's son?" He interrupted her. "If she's still working at the brothel even when she's back together with her boyfriend that means she stays…"

"So she can be closer to Rosario; closer to the power she seeks," Alexandra finished for him and Black cocked one of his eyebrows, the clouds of smoke leaving his lips were now completely engulfing his darkened features.

"You should have let me smash her head against the counter," Black smiled sarcastically. "It's not that hard to remove one silly girl from the equation – just say the word, honey. First one's on the house."

"Even if you killed her, the rest of the girls know by now."

He raised an eyebrow and offered her a half-smile.

"You can't kill them all, Erron."

"Try me."

"Besides, the first one's on the house, you say, but what about the rest? I don't have that kinda money," she laughed.

"We'll think of somethin', dear." He stepped on the cigar then got serious again. "So, they really believe they are gonna overthrow Kotal with this stupid brat as their leader?"

"Who said anything about overthrowing the Emperor?" The doctor asked, puzzled.

"Then what do they want now, the Rebel-Seekers?"

"Okay, John Wayne… I think it's time for you to finally see the bigger picture," she got up and took off her cape, letting it rest upon the only chair in the room, the one placed right next to the bed. Then she sat beside the mercenary, her eyes never leaving his. "The situation with the Rebel-Seekers hasn't changed, they haven't changed; their precarious, illegal position hasn't changed – the only thing that's changed is the names of the ones bossing them around. At first, it was the Emperor but now it's El Club vis-à-vis, the syndicate."

Black leaned in and observed her carefully as she went on; long gone was that frightened girl that just wanted to get back home – Outworld had swallowed her whole.

"The syndicate wants to control the contraband that the Census ended – picture Outworld as an airport, you ever been to an airport, Black?" She asked and he nodded his head in return. "Good, they would be Customs. They would be the ones controlling what and who leaves or enters this realm. The Rebel-Seekers that initially responded to Kotal are now responding to El Club, to the syndicate: they're the cannon fodder, the cheap workers just like they were way back then, when Kotal 'hired' them to hunt down the remaining Tarkatans and the few rebels that were still out there," the doctor explained.

"So, it's basically the same thing except now they found another leader," Black concluded.

"Exactly," she agreed. "And with a new leader comes a new goal. Kotal's goal was merely political so when he terminated them their retribution was also political. Now these new leaders are after different goals: economic goals, but their poor shape remains the same - they're still disposable, they're still rather easy to manipulate."

"The syndicate controls the contraband," Black went on, shaping his train of thought out loud.

"And the clandestine crossings," Alexandra added. "Because, as I'm sure you can imagine, not one bit of this trafficking madness can't be made through official portals."

"So, the Rebel-Seekers are their beasts of burden now, their mules."

"Precisely," She affirmed. "That's why the recruiter is such a key member of El Club – people know what happened when Kotal terminated the Rebel-Seekers Initiative, they remember the chaos, the bombs… The recruiter gives them a sense of organization, a sense of belonging, that's how the syndicate sells its propaganda, they shove their values down their throats and then the rebels comply, because they still remember, because they're still angry about what happened," She paused, her hands resting on her knees. "They make them believe that by trafficking items for the syndicate, they are damaging the economic structure of this government and undermining Kotal's rule. Kotal created a segregated army of uneducated people with no resources or official back-up; he made them run on promises and when he broke his promises, they went rampant. Kotal had promised them a better life but he forced them to remain in the shadows. When his own idea backfired, the Emperor terminated them: that was their closest approximation at actually becoming official, that barrister announcing in public that the Rebel-Seekers Initiative was over."

With a bitter expression written all over his face, Black remembered that moment, way back then, as he heard Yvo's voice in the crowd, just before being taken to the filthy cell that would become his home for the next decade.

"What they're doing for the syndicate now is not that different from what they did for Kotal back in the day… the syndicate rules them now, and these people end up trafficking goods from one realm to another. They give them this fake sense of security, the recruiter talks about an entire organization and, sadly, many of the things he tells them are true: they do have their contacts waiting on the other side, the people facilitating those goods. They do control the crossings and they even fix the pricing for each cargo to ensure the transactions will go smoothly. They don't even have to worry about distributing those stolen goods because the syndicate does it for them, and all the while they believe they are undermining Kotal's rule when in fact, they're only helping the syndicate and its subsidiaries back in Earthrealm."

"But they are undermining the Emperor's rule," Black sentenced.

"I know…" the doctor agreed before adding, "What they don't tell them is that they're disposable; that if one of them gets caught while crossing, the syndicate won't help them."

"Kotal acted in the same way, he never cared for those poor bastards," Black went on. "But they crossed a line when they went after me."

The woman smiled bitterly: "They were already crossing all sorts of lines way before you, Erron, I used to be a healer for them, remember? I know all about their transgressions. If anything, you merely exposed both sides, the Emperor and the Rebel-Seekers, and you ended up paying the price for such a decision."

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

"We all did."

"That's why El-A is becoming a liability, and one I certainly wasn't counting on," the doctor whispered coldly as she intertwined her fingers with his. "The House of Pleasure is the most strategic place for this whole operation to take hold; it's obvious they want her in charge, they want one of their own. They know the brothel's manager is always legitimized by the people and they need that populism, they need that sort of support. If El-A's in charge, El Club gets automatically endorsed by The House of Pleasure, meaning they can basically recruit anyone they want," she stopped to catch her breath, feeling exhausted and aggravated by the memory of El-A. "This is her chance to knock me down."

"We won't let her; all she has on you is a name…"

"It's not just about a name, Erron. Not anymore," she interrupted him, "she knows I'm not the one I claim to be, and she has the power to spread rumors like a fucking wildfire – who cares if the rumors are true or not as long as they're entertaining?"

The man rested his chin on her shoulder and squeezed her fingers.

"El Club needs The House of Pleasure because El Club lacks the legal capacity to get funds, but The House has that legal capacity," she explained.

"I know, Rosario told me about this deal ages ago," Black helped her. "The House created El Club as an attempt to establish connections with the aristocracy of Z'unkahrah but El Club is just a table inside the brothel, reserved solely for rich people – there's nothing more to it. In a way, The House protects El Club, because The House has the legal capacity that El Club lacks but El Club has the money, and the funds it takes for The House to stay in business because let's face it: the common citizen can't afford to pay for sex but they do anyway because your price rates are ridiculously low."

"Because the members of El Club provide the rest of the money and funds we need," Alexandra sentenced. "And since we offer affordable relief and entertainment to the common citizen, we have their hearts, their trust, and their support. We control the oppressed; we have our own Queen."

He removed her hair from her face and caressed her cheeks: that woman talking about power and strategies had nothing to do with the one he remembered from his days before prison. Outworld had reshaped her, it had corrupted her. His own decisions had tarnished the woman he had tried so hard to protect; she had been right all along: he should have taken her home while it still mattered.

Her words traveled the little space between them, but his ears were only getting brushed by the distant echoes of her voice, his mind tangled in his own guilt, what he had done to her – the true extent of his actions.

"But if you go on, if you continue to act so recklessly, you're gonna get yourself killed," she said, placing both her hands at the sides of his face and forcing him to pay attention. "I don't know what you're looking for, but I refuse to believe it's just money. I know you want to make them pay for what they did to your wife but you gotta be careful, Black, you're number one on their list of enemies."

Black pressed his forehead against hers, breathing in her perfume. He longed for her mouth, as his hands roamed her body, his fingertips getting busy with her dress.

And then he stopped, ashamed.

"What is it?" Alex asked, running her fingers through the solitary stripe of hair in his head.

"I can't. I'm sorry," He breathed as he buried his face on her chest. The one she had become, the unquenchable thirst for vengeance still dwelling deep within him, the memory of Zar, the image of the man he should have been – all visions blended together, clouding his eyes. "I'm sorry," he mumbled again.

"It's alright," she whispered tenderly as she planted a soft kiss on his shoulder. "Your own time molded you, and this twisted culture exaggerated every aspect of your personality. That's what this place does, Erron – it exacerbates the worst parts of…"

Her voice trailed off inside his ears again; those images were still haunting him, torturing him.

She used her fingertips for the man to lift his chin and face her.

"We're gonna be alright," she said.

He grabbed her by her waist and kissed her fiercely then, his hands holding on to her as if holding on for dear life, as if trying to summon the one she had been before his negligence and his selfishness. He shifted her body in his arms so that she was now sitting on his lap, facing him, her long legs at the sides of his body, the heels of her boots connecting with his back. Panting, sweating, the mercenary broke the kiss only to stare into her big, blue eyes: they were shimmering in the glowing lights of a past that was never coming back – her shape, molded forever inside the palms of his hands, could not be contained by the meridians of his own shape. He kissed her again, softer this time, barely breathing into her mouth.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, the tone of his voice had been laced by a sense of honesty she had never heard before. At least, not from him.

She nodded, mistaking the meaning of his question. It was her time to kiss him now, his mouth instantly reacting to the sudden assault of her tongue dancing with his yet he stopped her, tracing the outline of her lips with the tip of his fingers.

"Do you trust me?" he asked again.

"Yes," she said. Yes, I do."

He planted a soft kiss on her lips. Simple. Tender.

"Then there's someone you should meet. Can you do that for me?"

Puzzled, the woman held her breath as Black helped her stand up again.

"Now?" Alexandra asked, unable to hide the surprise from her voice.

The man nodded as he searched the room for his jacket.

"I have an asset – a very important informant. He can help you," he explained vaguely as he kneeled down in front of his cot and retrieved a small cardboard box from underneath it. Hiding the small object inside his jacket, he motioned towards the door, urging the woman to join him.

"This late at night? Really?" The woman asked again, incredulous.

"It's the kind of meeting you just can't afford to do in broad daylight, honey," He said as he offered her his hand, "I'll walk you to The House of Pleasure when it's over, I promise."

The doctor sighed helplessly but took his word and they left the building, moving smoothly amongst the shadows pooling around every corner, and walking hand in hand until the lugubrious buildings of the zone became a haunting memory inside her mind. The neighborhood became more and more elegant with every step they took in the night. She squeezed his hand – she recognized the area: they were getting too close to the Palace.

"It's alright," Black assured her. They kept on marching, quickly moving past the residential, suburban portion of the fancy-looking neighborhood and approaching the last section of the citadel, the one composed by Official Buildings, with the Royal Palace acting as the epicenter of the scene, surrounded by the Court, the Archives and the Barristers' Office. The gunslinger looked over his shoulder: even if he knew the zone like the back of his hand, it was clear that the woman was nervous.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Alexandra whispered. Her whole life in Outworld had been a perpetual escape from its authorities and now Black was leading her straight to them. The man seemed to pay no mind to her worries and concerns yet the tender squeeze from his hand quickly showed her otherwise. They stopped in front of the Barristers' Office and the former enforcer turned around and stared at the doctor longingly.

"The man's a workaholic; rumor has it he rarely leaves this place," he said as he knocked gently on the door. It creaked as the tiny, small man greeted them the second he saw them both standing in the rain.

"Black?" Yvo mumbled, visibly surprised but still, he moved, making room for the unexpected visitors to come in.

"Working late, Yvo?" The gunslinger asked nonchalantly.

"Always," the barrister replied humbly. He went back to his desk and put on his long, mauve coat – he was only wearing a thin white tunic when they arrived. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting any company."

"It's alright," the doctor said, apologetically. "We came unannounced, you don't have to apologize," she looked at Black, disapprovingly, yet the nearly bicentennial man simply shrugged his shoulders and sat on the barrister's desk. The rest of the desks scattered around the office were empty, only crowded by endless pillars of papers and Official forms waiting for the morning lights to dictate it was time for the barristers to get back to work.

"So, what brings you here this late at night?" The barrister asked. "I was just thinking about you, boy, but as far as I know I have yet to be graced by the powers of telepathy," Yvo chuckled as he handed Black the paper he was reading.

"What is this?" The cowboy asked, his eyes already scanning the letters.

"That is your evaluation, I'm afraid; the official statement from your boss," Yvo clarified. "Did you, by any chance, get to read the previous ones?"

The gunslinger shook his head.

"They are in the archives now; I couldn't show them to you even if I wanted to," the barrister began, leaning in closer, "but they're terrible and this new report… well, boy, let's just say it doesn't look very promising either."

Black folded the paper and put it back on Yvo's desk, infuriated. He had always suspected that his superior was never going to help him get back to the place where he belonged yet now, with the confirmation of his every suspicion, he was starting to feel truly aggravated.

"If you really want to become an Official Enforcer again, you're going to have to do something about it," Yvo suggested.

"I'm good at what I do, ain't that enough?" Black reproached.

"You once caught his attention – you once knew how to stand out from the rest; you need to do that again, son because climbing the ladder, step by boring step, it just doesn't seem to be an option anymore."

"Is it really that bad?" The doctor joined them, picking up the paper and reading some of the passages written by Black's superior: Excessive use of his physical power, violent tendencies, complete lack of commitment, uncooperative, antisocial, doesn't follow orders were the first things she read. Disheartened, she too placed the paper back on the barrister's desk.

"Yes, it's that bad," Yvo finally affirmed. "I'm sorry, my dear, I don't think we have been introduced properly… although I have to admit this gentleman here sure knows his way inside a beautiful woman's heart. You certainly have impeccable taste in women, son."

The doctor stretched one of her hands but as she was about to introduce herself, Black stopped her from saying anything to the barrister. "She's one of Rosario's girls," the gunslinger said as the doctor and the barrister shook hands.

"Oh," Yvo said, a bit flustered. "I see."

The gunslinger stood up and placed his hands at the sides of Alex's shoulders: "Could you wait outside for a moment, I won't be long," he said.

"It's raining outside, dear. You can use the lobby; there are some antique benches in there for you if you want to take a seat while you wait," the barrister offered. The woman nodded in silent agreement and left the room, leaving both men alone.

"Thank you for making her feel uncomfortable," Black spat disdainfully the second she disappeared behind the door.

"I didn't know," Yvo shrugged, trying to apologize. "What's going on, son?"

Black braced himself, the time for games was over.

"I need a favor."

"What can I do for you?" The barrister asked, noticing Black's expression beginning to change, becoming somber, more pensive than before.

"You can help me right one of the biggest wrongs of my life…" He paused briefly, mustering his courage. "I need a portal."

Mouth agape, Yvo took off his glasses and stared into Black's eyes.

"No questions asked," the gunslinger added, nearly begging.

"Portals are tracked," the barrister began, completely stunned, "even if I wanted to help you, they would know about the crossing."

"There's gotta be a way," Black implored, his voice low, careful that the doctor waiting outside could not hear them.

"The Kahn tracks these crossings; the old portals were safe but when he became Emperor…"

"There's no such thing as old portals and new portals, Yvo, and you know it," his fist slammed the desk, an action he regretted instantaneously.

"You're right," Yvo said. "But you know every portal is heavily guarded. The only portal that's not guarded is the last remaining portal from Shao Kahn's era, the one in the library – and no-one's been there in ages, Erron. Entire sections of the roof have collapsed; they even built this office on top of that old building," the barrister went on, trying to talk some sense into the man staring right back at him.

"Is that portal still working?"

"I don't know," Yvo shrugged his shoulders. "It's been ages since the portal was last used, boy."

"Is that portal still accessible?"

"I don't know, Black," the barrister repeated as his friend insisted. "I know some parts of the old library can be accessed through the basement of this building, but that's all I know. Where is this portal, if it still is, considering structural weaknesses, debris and the collapsed sections of the old roof, and whether it's still in working condition or not… I don't know, boy."

"And that portal, in case we can get there, in case it still works – is not being tracked?" Black questioned, trying to make sure no-one would try to follow them.

The barrister nodded, but he looked away almost immediately: "I don't want to be a part of this, Erron – whatever this is."

The gunslinger patted Yvo on the shoulder lightly and grinned softly at him.

"This was my idea. In case things go south, you were never here. I broke in; you had nothing to do with any of this," he offered, a renewed sense of honesty taking over his words. "Tell me how to get there."

"Go to the lobby, past the benches where I told your friend to wait for you – go downstairs to the secondary foyer, behind the front marble desk you'll find the entrance on the floor; the handle should be rusty due to the complete lack of use. After that, it's a long way down and I can't assure what you're going to find once you descend to the old building," the barrister grabbed the younger man by his forearm, "be careful, Erron."

The gunslinger nodded, appreciating Yvo's help.

"Thank you," He said but he turned around before leaving. "You should probably go home now, old man… in case something goes wrong, it'd be best if they didn't find you here. Just allow me a moment, then leave."

"And what about the woman?" Yvo asked, standing up.

"She'll be the one crossing, not me," the mercenary confessed.

"Is she aware…"

"No, she isn't," Black stopped the barrister before the man could complete his question.

"I understand," Yvo whispered as both men walked towards the door. "I'll wait until you both descend to the old building then I'll leave. But… why, boy?"

"I said no questions asked," Black interrupted him again, his hand already caressing the doorknob. "It's better this way."

The doctor stood up the second she saw Black and the barrister leaving the office. Her hands at the sides of her body, she motioned towards them: "Is everything alright?" She asked, completely unaware of what was truly going on. Black smiled fondly at her and kissed her forehead ever so gently.

"My good friend Yvo here was just telling me about his investigation. Given his years as the Official Palace Barrister, he's been able to gather rather crucial information about the members of El Club," Black began as Yvo chose to stay completely still and completely silent. "He's been keeping these files downstairs, in the old building… We should go, take a look."

"Now?" The woman asked, "It's been a long day and an even longer night… I just want to go back home and sleep."

"You will, just… just a little longer," The cowboy assured her.

Yvo stepped up, then, determined to help Black: whatever it was that the gunslinger was trying to accomplish by sending that woman to Earthrealm, it was clearly taking its toll on him – he seemed hurt, nearly broken.

"Come with me," the barrister beckoned them and they both joined him as the tiny man went downstairs, to the secondary foyer. He walked around the great marble desk and kneeled down, his hand caressing the old handle barely visible from the other side of the front desk where Black and the doctor were standing. "You don't know just how many people come and go around this place during the day, my dear. This isn't something we can do during working hours, I'm afraid." Both Black and the doctor kneeled down right next to Yvo, helping the old barrister with the rusty handle. It took them a while but the floor finally creaked beneath them as the small wooden gate opened, revealing a dark, long path downwards – the only remaining entrance to the old, ruined library. Yvo grabbed one the torches adorning the marble desk and handed it to Black as the cowboy began to disappear into the darkness.

The doctor followed him, yet she stopped when she noticed the barrister was not joining them: "I thought you would be coming with us."

"No, my dear," Yvo whispered, leaning in, "I already told Erron where to find my files. I can't go down there, the path is too steep and rough and I'm a very old man so I'll wait for you here," he smiled fondly as he watched her disappear completely.

The old ladder was narrow and fragile yet they both descended rather smoothly. Black was holding the torch for them to see the path – or what was left of it. He had heard about the old library; he had heard about its splendorous days, the ostentatious furniture and decorations that had been carefully chosen by Queen Sindel herself. Now all that was left of it was the debris of a fallen empire; the ashes of a ruler that had exceeded his power, fueled by greed and ambition.

"What happened here?" Alexandra asked, taking in the view.

"The ceiling collapsed," Black replied, crouching his way through a fallen beam. "Watch it."

Now books and statues were scattered all over the marble floor. The many cracks on the walls and the countless tears all over the defeated curtains were talking about a majesty that was no more. "This was Shao Kahn's library," Black explained, always moving forward through the debris, "when the ceiling collapsed, they closed the building and built the Barristers' Office on top of it."

"So… basically, the Barristers' Office could cave in, any second…" Alex deduced.

"Yep, I guess so. But nobody cares – they're just barristers," Black chuckled. "I guess this is just one of the many, many inconsistencies you can find here in Outworld: a building like this, where thousands of people come and go every single day can cave in at any given moment but they can spend an entire decade building a statue for the Emperor."

The woman smiled as she grabbed Black by one of his arms. The air was getting colder now, significantly colder than before. As they kept moving forward, venturing the pitch-black corridors of the ruined library, the timid lights of the portal began to appear past the fallen shelves and over the fractured columns.

"What is that?" Alex asked, mesmerized by the glowing luminescence waiting for them at the other side of the room but Black couldn't talk anymore: those lights were real, they were getting closer now. "Black?" The woman insisted but the muted mercenary kept on walking, almost blinded by the vision before him.

The vision of a life without her.

As Black removed the stones blocking the lower part of the broken columns, the oval shape of the portal became clear and completely defined in front of the doctor's mesmerized eyes. She swallowed hard, holding her breath.

"Black?"

He brushed his dusty hands on his trousers, then looked down.

"Black!" She insisted, yelling now, placing her hands at the sides of his face trying to force his eyes to meet hers but as soon as he stared back at her, she notices that there were tears in his eyes. He had planned it. He knew what he was doing.

She stood in front of the portal, petrified by its mere existence.

"First Rosario takes me to your place when I believed we were only going shopping… Now you take me here when I believed we were gonna read some files… well done, Alex," she whispered and the man embraced her from behind, tightly, his arms snaking around her stomach. He kissed her neck, but the woman flinched, moving away from him.

"Don't do this, Black," she begged.

He closed his eyes, inhaling her perfume and holding her close to his chest until the woman shifted in his arms and faced him. The torch was resting on the cold floor now, only inches away from the portal – the cold white emanating from the ethereal gate and the warm auburn hues dancing around the flame were creating a subtle shade of amber all around them.

"You can't go on living like this," Black whispered.

She tried to let go from him but his arms were too strong. Tight fists landed on his shoulders, her face on the small space between his neck and his shoulder.

"Leaving is gonna be just as hard as staying," she implored with tears in her eyes. "I can't go back now, Erron. Only yesterday I told you there was no going back home for me, what am I gonna do now? What am I supposed to tell them? The woman who returns from death, twelve years later! It's a miracle, she's back!"

He sat on the floor as she sat on his lap.

"This was the only thing you wanted from me," he said.

"Yes - over a decade ago," she retorted. "I'm pushing forty now; I've spent more time as a whore than as a doctor, Erron, for fuck's sake! Do you think Nathan is still waiting? Do you honestly believe that he's still out there, searching for me after all these years?"

"I waited," he said as his eyes met hers. "I searched."

"You had nothing better to do, Erron – you were rotting in jail."

"I could have taken care of my wife," he remembered helplessly, "instead of thinking of you and talking about you and forcing her to go look for you. I could have actually shown some love for that woman." He reached inside his jacket for the small box he had retrieved from under his cot and opened it for the woman to see what was inside: a handful of American dollars and a small pistol. He handed her the box and the woman took it but instead of keeping it, she placed it on the floor right next to the portal.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" she played her last card. "You said those who run got something to hide."

Black leaned his back against the base of one of the columns and closed his eyes for a moment: "You were talking about disappearing for a couple of days… this is different: this is permanent, Alex."

"No."

The mercenary held on tight to her; one of his hands at the back of her head and the other snaking around her lower back and waist. He opened his eyes for his unfocused sight to marvel at the visions before him: the white lights from the portal, meandering endlessly around the gate, were illuminating the back portion of the room, exactly behind the portal where the defeated ceiling kissed the ground.

"The fact that this portal is still standing is just… amazing," he whispered, and she looked around her shoulder to take in the view.

"Where does this thing lead to, anyway?" She asked.

"I have no idea," Black confessed, imagining the difficulties she was surely going to face along the way.

"Good to know… I don't think this thing is gonna take me straight back home," she was desperately searching for excuses, longing for reasons to stay – he could sense that.

"Where are you from?"

"Maryland," she told. "Then I moved to Camarillo, with Nathan, when we moved in together," the woman looked down as her words died out in the air, ashamed, feeling as if speaking of her former boyfriend in front of Black was somehow off-limits for her now.

"It's a good thing I gave you money, then," the cowboy reflected as he stood up, forcing the woman to stand up as well. "Just go, Alex."

Facing the portal, the woman covered her face with her hands and turned around abruptly, her hands tugging his jacket.

"Don't make me do this, Erron – not now," she pleaded but the cowboy took her in his arms again and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Remember what I told you yesterday? That I was sorry, but that I didn't feel responsible for what you've become?" he asked. "I don't feel responsible for you choosing this path, but I am responsible for not doing what I should have done in the first place. You are right; none of this would have happened if I had taken you to a portal when you first asked me to." He slid his fingers across her cheeks, brushing off the tears cascading down her face. "I never wanted any of this to happen, I just wanted you to be someone else… then I just wanted you… but not like this, not like this, Al." Rosario's words were a heavy burden for the gunslinger to face now – he couldn't afford to think about the future, couldn't afford to imagine that woman in his arms aging and withering. "Yesterday you asked me just how many women I've slept with all over the years – you should have asked me how many people I have murdered all over the years…"

"Black…"

"That number is frightening," he said, "that number is larger than and number you can possibly think of."

"I don't care," Alexandra retorted childishly.

"Of course you do," Black whispered, brokenhearted. "It's just a matter of time until you realize you do. When the shock of this reunion is over; when my face becomes a face you get to see every day you're gonna remember who I am, you are gonna remember just how much you despise me," he paused, his voice a mere sigh now. "That moment is gonna be devastating for us, Alex."

She shook her head, still holding on to him as if holding on for dear life.

"You may think it's not gonna be like that, but I assure you: it will," the man sentenced. "Look at you now, Al… way back then, you were a woman with a simple, clear goal in mind: to get back home. I killed that goal, I tarnished everything you wanted with my selfishness but now you're talking about a syndicate and contraband and becoming the next queen of the oppressed when deep down, you never wanted any of those things. You said I'm judgmental, but I swear I'm not judging you – I'm just stupefied: from doctor to prostitute? This is not the life you should have lived," he raised her chin with the tip of his fingers, the bridge connecting their eyes was still vivid, pulsating right through them. "You told me, many times, that I was nothing but a selfish man – so you're gonna have to let me be selfish just one last time: you need to leave because I don't think this is fair. None of this is fair… not for me and definitely not for you."

"But…" She tried to speak but the man shushed her with a soft, delicate kiss on her lips.

"When I came here, I was already like this – a mercenary, a nomad… But you were different, and you're still young, Alex, use your time wisely; use it to be the one you want to be, not the one this place forces you to be."

"But what about you?" she asked. "You're never going to change."

"I've already changed more than I should have," his half-smile was trying to masquerade the pain he was feeling. The woman wrapped her arms around him, longing for him – the kiss was slow, definitive.

"When you talk about me, tell them I noticed when you changed your hair," he laughed, even with tears in his eyes, "and please don't tell them I never took you places."

The last kiss was urgent. It was a plea. It was a necessity. Then he picked up his box and handed it to her before placing both his hands on her shoulders to guide her towards the portal. Just inches away from the lights the woman stopped, his box pressed hard against her chest. She shook her head helplessly, the last bastions of hope collapsing all around her.

"Goodbye, Alex," he kissed her on the forehead as he pushed her body through the white lights and there he stayed, his boots pinned down to the ground. Her figure, washed in lights, became a mere shadow leaving his sight.

Gone.

She was gone.

---

Author's note: Hey guys, so – we finally moved to our new place (so far, I hate it) and our internet guy has yet to show up so this chapter's been brought to you thanks to Starbucks Wi-Fi – yep, we moved right in front of a Starbucks and I don't even like their coffee. Anyway, our heroine is finally going back home and we got just one more chapter left before this arc is over so get ready for the arc finale! Also, a part of me feels like apologizing to you guys for the obscene amounts of dialogue throughout this entire arc – they've been apart for so long it was only natural for them to let go of all those things they wanted to say to each other. Now arc five is going to be significantly longer than this arc, with less dialogue and more action, but we still got another chapter ahead of us and the interlude connecting both arcs before that so let's not worry about that – just yet.

Looksforthelight: Thank you so much, that was a very special moment of the chapter, when Alex finally faces Black but from a different place, you know? Far from all her anger and her rancor.

Sabrina: I think he just got his shit together – a bit late, but hey, better late than never, right? And I agree with the what you said, that Alex has changed so much that there's no way for her to reverse those changes and become the one she was before that decade in the brothel. I guess Black's just realized that as well, only to find that he can't live with that truth. Thank you so much!

Rae: Well, I had to rewrite most parts of that chapter because I didn't like the flow of their arguments – the structure was too logical for my linking, and everyone who's ever been in a verbal confrontation knows how exhausting those things can be. I thought about my boss (I'm not kidding, the woman drains the life out of me) and I tried my best to readjust their dialogue to the messy, ever-changing flow of a good fight: I have this thing all formed up inside my mind, but the second it leaves my mouth the other person retorts and comes back with something completely unexpected and that breaks my mental balance so I have to find a new way to get through, and it times it can be lighter and then boom! It's on again so I'm glad you thought it felt as if they were truly arguing. Thanks, dear!

Guest: Yes, I kinda just let it slip through their dialogue but now it's out there… Black was just trying to keep the boy busy with stories and fantasies about this supernatural being that doesn't even exist – and still the boy SAW something lurking out there – and if he wrote down the word "sighting" on his notebook, that means it somehow matched Black's description of a woman, with certain characteristics. Too bad the boy isn't around anymore; he could certainly clarify this whole thing. Guess we'll have to wait to find out how this lady was. Thank you!

Westcoast Witchdoctor: Damn El-A, you're 100% right – and still, I'm having a blast writing her so she's not going anywhere hahaha. Yes, Kano was the one who hurt Black in the first place, but that was over a decade ago; who knows what happened to him after their fight in the Kuatan Jungle? The man himself will be making an appearance in the interlude between arcs, so answers are coming. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

ErronFan: I laughed my ass off when I read your review – "that nosy little bitch!" I just love that sorta reaction – Thing is you're right, she is a nosy little bitch, and all the trouble she's causing our beloved gunslinger is far from over, I'm afraid. Thank you!

The Hybrid Queen: It's not that she can't mind her own business – she is minding her own business by trying to take out the competition. But you're right, these two can't seem to find a moment to relax, even though I gotta admit it was a nice change of pace that this time it wasn't Erron the one screwing up. Just this once. Thank you, dear!