Ten locks. That's how many were fastened to the front door of Darius's home. Each and every night, he felt a sense of security knowing nobody was coming through the front door to cause him and his family harm. However, upon arriving home after he bore witness to Pascal's torture, a fear overtook him, and suddenly, having ten locks on the door didn't make him feel so safe anymore. With every persistent what-if that entered his head, Darius would counter them out loud, convincing himself that those what-ifs were just his mind overthinking the situation. Angus didn't see his face, nor did the others that were with him. There's just no logical way they could know it was him watching from the shadows. All they'd seen of him was just his silhouette. Yeah, that's it. So what was the problem?
Despite talking himself through each and every anxiety, he just couldn't seem to convince himself that the threat of danger was long gone. He'd lie next to Zahra, tossing and turning, in hopes that sleep would eventually find him, but it never did. A swirling cesspool of fearful thoughts prompted him to leave the comfort of his room and sit in a tattered living room chair. All of the sounds he remembered from the alleys were flooding into his mind, replaying themselves over and over again like a song on repeat. Pascal's voice, Mariya's cries for reconsideration, Angus's appalling actions, and Quaid's argument.
By the time the morning sun beamed through the window, he was sleeping in an odd position with his head tilted over in the chair. A weathered hand shook him gently and his eyes fluttered open to a blinding ray of sunlight burning his corneas.
Darius rubbed his eyes, blinking away the green splotches in his vision. Standing next to him was a man appearing to be in his sixties with graying hair, a warm smile, and a cup of freshly made tea. It was his father, Youssef.
"Why are you sleeping in the chair?" he asked, nearly laughing as he offered him his cup, an offer Darius was more than happy to accept.
"Thank you, father. I… didn't sleep well last night. Didn't get in until late."
Youssef sat on the love seat, placing his own cup on the coffee table. "Job searching is bad here, too, I take it."
"You don't know the half of it! I tried to apply for a position at the local police station, but…"
His father quirked a brow, cocking his head as he looked at him expectantly. "But…?"
Darius sighed. "...it's all hopeless. A.I. is taking over everywhere we go. Soon I fear there won't be a single human being left on planet Earth. Father, you don't think it will truly come to that, do you? That the human race will be replaced forever by these things ?"
Youssef sipped his tea and hummed in thought. "If this is the beginning of the end for humanity, we will have no one to blame but ourselves. With free will comes the ability to choose one's fate, and with great power, the fate of others. A.I.s with great power have the capability of forging a new world that you and I could never be a part of. Even so, we are still here, and I will see that you live your life to the fullest."
Darius stared into his cup, knowing that the state of the world truly was the fault of brilliant minded people. People who unknowingly spelled their end at the expense of playing god. Unforgivable. "The choices people make sicken me… I didn't want this!" He slammed his cup down on the table. "I didn't want to grow up unable to escape a fate that I didn't choose for myself! And now… my unborn child will suffer just as I have — as we all have. When will this end? When we're all dead and gone?!"
"Darius…!"
"I don't accept that — won't accept that! And don't you dare try to sell me that Faith of the Untiring crap. Just because we're Drive users doesn't mean we can't be oppressed, and I'm tired of pretending my choices matter when they really don't! It's over! It's all over! I give up…"
Youssef remained silent, his gaze lowered as he listened to Darius's tirade. When he did finally speak up, his voice was calm. "Tell me something: when a raindrop falls from the sky and lands on your hand, what does it do?"
"Why are you asking me this?" Darius hissed.
He gave a small smile, not making eye contact with his son as he dipped his finger into his tea and dropped a bead on the top of his wrinkled hand. For a moment, it was stationary. "You see… my hand is an obstacle. The drop can't continue in a straightforward descent because I'm in the way. It won't change its direction unless acted upon by another force — me." Upon turning his hand sideways, the drop rolled off and soaked through the knee of his pants.
"Father, I know how physics works," Darius exasperated, "honestly, why must you —"
"Everything follows accordingly to Newton's three laws. Everything… save for Drive users." He breathed deeply into his nose and a faint red aura began to emanate around the hand that was about to drip another bead of tea over his skin. The drop fell to the back of his hand, shooting straight through it and leaving a hole. It did the same to the couch until he loosened his focus. Having traversed straight through the couch cushions, the drop finally splished over the floor, just as it was meant to. Darius's father looked at the hole in his hand, letting out a grunt of pain as he did so. Repeating the process, he inhaled steadily and the red aura around his palm accelerated the repairing of skin cells.
Darius stared. "You didn't have to hurt yourself to make the same point you've been hammering into my head for years…"
"Understand this, Darius. It's very true that sometimes our choices simply aren't enough. That others will affect our fate by making choices for us, and that does make us seem powerless in the end. But… in spite of these obstacles that come our way, mankind perseveres. Instead of looking at all the things that are going wrong, look at what you have already accomplished. The world around you may fall apart, but we still have each other. It's like that drop that continued on its path despite my hand being in the way: as long as people continue to keep on living and enjoy the life they have, then how we meet our end doesn't matter."
Darius looked off in silence, unable to find the words that helped his argument.
Youssef rose from the sofa. "Acknowledge the things you can change, accept what you can not." With that, his father took his cup of tea and made his leave for the kitchen, leaving Darius to sit and linger on his words.
"So… persistence is key?" Darius wondered aloud. "But it's so hard to see it from that perspective! All I want is for my wife and child to have what they need. As long as I can find a way to provide for them, then maybe I can come to understand what father means." He sighed, and looked at the front door. His eyes were droopy from the lack of a good night's sleep, every pore in his body begging him to reconsider whatever he was thinking about doing and go to sleep. But the word persistence kept spinning around in his head. Persist — that's exactly what he had to do. Shooting up from the chair, he grabbed his jacket and unlocked the front door.
Another day, another job hunt through Skid Row. Long, arduous walks through the city streets, souring over his coffee getting lukewarm after forgetting to sip it, and being rejected at every business because they already had an A.I. doing all the work. This was how his day was going to go, he just knew it. However, upon walking towards the porch steps, he eyed something peculiar in his periphery.
The device that stored his personal information was sitting on the rickety outdoor table. Next to that was a rock that had a nail in it with bold letters in black paint reading: We know.
Darius's blood ran cold. His stomach twisted into a large knot. He was too afraid to walk over to inspect it. Too afraid of what might happen if he touched it. A number of fears cultivated in his mind, creating questions like: who is "we?"
Realization dawned on him as he traced his steps back to last night. The alley. Damn, it must have fallen out of my pocket when I tripped over the trash cans! With caution, he approached the table and picked up the rock, his eyes studying the area for whoever was waiting for him to take the bait. Waiting a moment, it was apparent nobody was around. Maybe.
There's a nail in this rock…? Darius plucked the nail out of the rock, prompting it to shatter in his hands and crumble into fine pieces that fell through the cracks between his fingers. The action was all too sudden as he let out a sharp shout and staggered back in fear. "What the…?!" The message was gone, but the fear it evoked remained etched in his mind. Suddenly, thoughts of what occurred last night flashed through his mind's eye, overwhelming him.
Darius's breath quickened as he darted back inside, shut the door, and hastily refastened the ten locks. He then proceeded to check the back door, locking it shut before isolating him in his room. No way in hell he would leave. Not until he could get a grip and figure this out. He was adamant about staying put in a room until his wife, Zahra, requested that he go down to the local convenience store and grab a box of financiers with French onion soup to go with it. That combination threw him for a loop. Leaving the house, let alone the confines of his own room, terrified him.
Still, if it was what she wanted, he was more than happy to oblige. Anything for her. Darius stomached his fear and left his home, insisting that Youssef lock the door behind him. Plagued by the worry that someone could be following him — watching him — Darius would constantly look back as he rushed to reach his destination, each noise and shadow making him jumpy. Knowing it had to be those people he saw last night, he was beginning to fear for his family's security and well-being more than when he first arrived in Skid Row.
"Alright," he said to himself, "alright, alright, alright. Calm down, Darius. Think. What leads do you have?" He inhaled and slowly let it out, praying it would be enough to make his nerves settle. "Okay. There's the message on that rock. And… the nail… okay. There we go. Dammit! I have no idea what these people look like. No, no, don't stress yourself out. I'll just go down to the store and straight home. I'll be in and out. Easy. Okay, okay, don't worry. You've got plenty of time. We'll get through this. Let's just take this one step at a time."
Finally, the convenience store was within view and a relief washed over him. Nobody would be dumb enough to attack him in a store where there would be witnesses, he thought. He left his fear at the door as he entered the store and made his way up the aisles and towards the deli.
The selection of food on a holographic display was enough to make his mouth water. His options were: Basque chicken stew, beef burgundy, salad landaise, financiers, ratatouille, and fish (as well as French onion) soup. The absence of a friendly face smiling at him from behind the counter left a bitter taste in his mouth, for he knew what to expect. Orange cyber letters matching the display read two things: press for customer service and leave customer feedback. Darius's pointer finger tapped the first option, prompting a thin, fluorescent line to emit from the panel. It spread out into a perfect square with rounded edges and a glitching image in the center — the image of a man that appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties.
His hair was a white powder wig, going along quite nicely with his 1700s-styled, copper habit a la francaise. Settled on his face was a haughty expression as if he was about to greet Darius rudely, but to his surprise did not. "Thank you for choosing Laylom Marche de Coin," he spoke in a refined French accent, "my name is Dell. One is glad to be of service for you this fine day, monsieur. Though I must inform you that you are second in the queue, as there is one other ahead of you waiting for their order. May I suggest that while you wait you browse our panel for a list of fun activities to keep you occupied?"
Another screen shot up from the panel, illuminating a long list of games, drawing apps, and ad-free video streaming services. Turning his gaze with a sneer, Darius rejected the offer, shoving his hands down in his pockets. "Tch. Well, aren't we a radiant beam of sunshine." Dell scoffed. "Very well, then. Stand there bored out of your mind, but you'll be back. They always come back for our irresistible selection." The face glitched and blinked away from the screen, transforming back into the thin, orange line and vanishing back into the display.
"Pfft," Darius muttered, "don't guilt trip me, you man-made abomination."
In an instant, the screen shot back up with Dell reappearing in full resolution. "What was that, you dog? Why I oughtta…" his voice was monotonous, non-threatening; just the way he said oughtta evoked a chortle from the other person ahead of Darius. "...don't make me come over there, you little…!"
Darius scoffed. "Are you going to take this man's order, or not?" he gestured to the person a few feet away. "My pregnant wife is waiting for me to return with her food, so stop wasting precious time!"
"Ah." it responded blandly. "I suppose you're right. I could be hurrying this up a bit instead of picking a fight with the likes of you. Just next time try not to disrespect me, d'accord?"
Unbelievable. Darius rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure."
"Now, then. Where was I? Ah, yes." Dell vanished back into the panel and the only thing to break the fresh sound of silence was laughter rumbling in the chest of the man standing mere feet away from Darius.
"Don't you just love automatons…"
Darius looked his way, noting the hat atop his head as well as the peculiar decorations in the brim — nails. On the shoulders of his trench coat were an array of colorful sandpaper sheets with nail heads in them. It was as if this guy went to a hardware store and crafted an outfit out of anything he could scrounge up. Ah, yes. Nothing screams I'm a passionate craftsman like drilling nails and sandpaper into your jacket and calling it a fashion statement. Even the toes of his boots had nail heads poking up. How exactly did he get around? To Darius, he assumed the man was practically wearing an Iron Maiden on his feet, walking around with sharp objects embedded in his toes. As he pondered on the hat's design, he realized that the sharp points of the nails weren't protruding under the brim. Interesting. Maybe the same could be said for his shoes, then.
As he returned to pondering on the mystery behind the nail and the rock, a sinking realization plummeted into the pit of his stomach. His blood froze and he could feel his sense of security crumble to dust and blow away on a harsh gale. "Nails..." he murmured, "...nails...!"
Steam rose up from the other side of the counter as a full-bodied A.I. worked tirelessly to sear the meat and vegetables. There was an eerie air about the man with the nailed boots. A familiarity Darius couldn't place, though he could swear he'd heard that voice and its inflection from somewhere. Realizing he was deeply scrutinizing the man beside him, Darius snapped out of his trance and met a narrowed, pale blue gaze staring back under the shadow of his hat.
He quickly darted his eyes away, feeling the flush of a numbing fear course through his veins. Even with his eyes elsewhere, Darius could sense the man staring at him, thinking god knows what. He didn't want to think about it.
The A.I. cuisineur scooped the beef burgundy into a box, closed the lid over it, and handed it to the stranger. Darius watched him as he took a U-drive from the pocket of his coat and inserted it into a much more recent model KR.
Dell's screen once again reappeared. "Merci beaucoup! Your patronage to Laylom Marche de Coin is deeply appreciated. Please feel free to rate our services… or don't. I don't care, I just work here."
Popping up on the display was a tab with 5 gray stars. The stranger pressed the no thanks option and started off to the exit, his dread evoking aura drifting coolly past Darius as he walked away. Before disappearing behind the corner of the wall, the stranger — unbeknownst to Darius — glanced back at him ominously.
"May your days be merry and bright." Dell called out to the man. He then directed his attention to Darius. "Now, what may I get for you, your impatientness?"
Darius's jaw tightened slightly at that remark. "Two financiers and French onion soup."
"Yes, of course, French onion soup. But why the finance?"
Darius blinked. "What? No, I mean I want two financiers."
"Oui, being able to manage finances is an integral part of running a business. I don't blame you for wanting assistance, handling an establishment by yourself is tough. But you will have to look elsewhere for that, as I am an occupant of this fine branch." Dell let out a drawn out, monotonous sigh. "So, French onion soup. Will that be all for you?"
Darius clapped a hand to his forehead. "Nevermind. I'll just input this manually." Tabban… why didn't I just do that in the first place? Damn bots… I wouldn't have this problem if real people worked here.
After leaving the convenience store, Darius headed home unaware that a few loiterers were eyeing him. There were hushed murmurs amongst them, snickers, and one of them savoring their last drag on their cigarette before the small group casually followed him. While he moseyed along, his mind clung to his chilling encounter with the man adorned in nails.
Their presence went unnoticed until Darius glimpsed them for the second time upon turning a street corner. The first time he shrugged it off. If they rounded this one, then it would certainly heighten his suspicions. He picked up the pace as he looked back, expecting the men to walk out from behind the wall and possibly — possibly — continue on their way. He hoped so. Maybe he and them going in the same direction was just an odd coincidence?
Get a hold of yourself, Darius. You're being ridiculous…there's no way — ah, shit!
Hearing their voices as well as their shoes close the distance between them, Darius changed his pace from a simple stroll to a power walk. Noting that they were gaining speed as he did, he broke into a sprint, allowing his feet to take him anywhere. Anywhere but home. It'd be over his dead body he led the danger straight to his loved ones. No, he had to play this smart. But how?
In an attempt to slow his pursuers down, he toppled over trash cans and rubbish gathered in the alleys. Outbursts of profanity and taunts echoed off the walls surrounding them as they climbed over the garbage and bolted after him, giving him little time to think of a quick getaway. Darius's legs ached. His abdominal region tightened and his heart pounded so loudly in his chest, he thought it might explode at any given second. The heavy breaths he took were burning his throat raw, but even so, he refused to stop running.
Then, just when he thought it couldn't get worse, he'd come to a fork in the backstreets where more of them were waiting — blocking all possible escape routes. The men pursuing him had finally caught up and the groups formed together to corner him. Darius backed up against a chain link fence, expecting the worst.
Impulses he recognized as his own Drive urged him to keep going in spite of his obstacles. Do it for Zahra, do it for Youssef… do it for Abbas. It was all he could think about as the enemy approached. When times got tough, the very essence of what kept him going in spite of the odds against him was his family. Seeing them happy, seeing them live another day in good health and good spirits… that's what drove him. That was the source of his power, the Unstoppable Force.
Focusing all of his Drive into a single, steady breath created a red surging energy from the core of his being. As it spread throughout his body, his aura began to burn a blood-red hue. Moving his hand made red streaks similar in appearance to speed lines despite him not moving swiftly. With fierce tenacity, Darius grappled the fence tightly. Like tearing through a wet paper bag, the chain links split apart.
Multiple widened eyes gawked at the act in utter shock. "What the hell?!" one of the low-lives shouted.
"He just pulled that fence apart with his bare hands!"
Standing in front of the ruptured fence, Darius scowled at his pursuers. "Let's see you keep up with me now." Holding fast to the feelings that drove him, he slipped through the tear and ran, the red energy boosting his acceleration — doubling the speed of an average human being. Red lines blurred from his body as he raced through the winding backstreets. Glass, cardboard, wood, and metal alike were obliterated in his path. Things any normal person would trip over were shattered by the mere force of his body making impact, their contents leaving a disastrous mess in his wake.
Weary and winded from the sprint, his focus on channeling Drive shattered. Feeling that he'd put just enough distance between him and the men chasing him, he found a spot to rest and recuperate for the time being. Darius wheezed as he took in heavy breaths. He could hear the sound of transports whirring miles above him as he leaned against a brick wall and gathered his thoughts.
"I…" wheeze, "...hate…" wheeze, "...this city." Until he felt he was rested enough, Darius lingered around the alley, listening to the transports and the honking of car horns on the not-too-distant highway. "Guess they've given up. Good. I should head home before Zahra's food gets cold."
As he started up the alley, a sudden hiss followed by a sharp twinge in his thigh sealed up the movement in his leg, causing him to stumble into the rubbish gathered along the wall. The box and Zahra's food fumbled from his grasp and dropped on the pavement. "What the hell?!" He tried to move his leg but to no avail; it simply wouldn't budge no matter how hard he tried. Khara! It's completely limp! Boots clomped over the concrete, drawing nearer. Darius gawked in the direction the sound was coming from, his mouth falling agape as he realized a familiar figure strode through the shadows cast by the buildings. Boots with steel plated toes, and nail heads poking up throughout, stepped into the light.
"You…!"
The man adorned in nails prodded a piece of meat from his tin carry-out box with a metal fork and twirled it around, looking it over. "You're a long ways from Egypt, officer Avdol." he stated in a deep voice. "Or should I say… former officer." Darius's jaw clenched. Before he could utter a single word, the group that was chasing him before appeared behind the stranger. Their boss, Angus Thunderstrike.
Of course. Darius's eyes narrowed at him.
Cramming the chunk of meat into his mouth, Angus savored it, nodding in approval. "You know, the red wine in this dish really makes the flavor pop. It's robust, smooth. The meat's so tender it just falls apart. Exquisite texture. Just… perfection." He took another bite and swallowed it. "But I didn't corner you in an alley to chit-chat about French cuisine. So…" handing his food box to one of his lackeys, he clapped his gloved hands together and gave Darius a devilish grin, "...let's talk turkey."
Eyeing his wife's box of food, Darius went to reach for it when Angus kicked it aside. Failing to reach it, Darius toppled over, banging his chin on the pavement. His boys chortled and guffawed, practically rubbing salt in Darius's wounds.
"You want it?" Angus kneeled down and picked up the box, lightly waving it around like he was tempting a dog with a treat. "You'll get it back. But first… you're going to answer some questions for me. Last night, you were sneaking around, poking your nose where it doesn't belong. Mind telling me why that is, monsieur Avdol? Is it because of France's government you can't pick up the pieces, so you took on some role as vigilante justice?" He held up a pointer finger. "Or maybe that's what you had in mind… until you realized you were biting off more than you can chew. That right?"
Darius glared back at him. "You don't know anything about me…"
Angus chuckled. "Wow, you really think I didn't peep through all your information? I know more about you than you realize, Darius." Hearing him say his name put a bad taste in Darius's mouth. "For instance: your birthday is September 6th, your blood type is AB, you migrated all this way from Cairo, you graduated the academy 15 years ago and joined the police force, and now you live in a shitty little housing project in Laylom — unemployed. Must be tough not having a good source of income…what with your wife having a baby in a few weeks."
"Wha…?! How could you possibly —"
"Laylom's one of my territories," Angus explained, "your little neighborhood is home to some of my boys, the same people that delivered my message to your front door." Fishing out a lighter and a cigarette from his pocket, Angus lit it and took a drag, blowing a smoke ring. "So…" he climbed to his feet, "...what'll it be, officer? Gonna stay out of work and down, or take the chance of a lifetime and earn a living?"
Darius spat at his feet. "You chased me through here to offer me a job proposition?! I'll never work for criminals, not in this lifetime, nor any other! I am on the side of justice!" After images of red streaks blurred from his body as he reached down to his injured leg and removed Angus's nail. Angus stared at him in disbelief as he fought to control the spasms in his leg. As if the entire world could behold Angus's nail, Darius held it up, pincered between his index finger and thumb.
"What the hell is all that red stuff around you?!"
Darius's gaze narrowed on him. "Now I see… the nail in that rock was no ordinary nail, it was a stand. That's why the man's legs didn't break when you swung the sledgehammer last night — that's why when I removed the nail from that rock on my front porch it crumbled to pieces! One shot halts all forms of mechanical energy and releases it all at once when the nail is removed. Not just my own, but the physical damage sustained from outer forces!"
Angus glared back, making a gun-holding gesture that caused his nail gun to manifest in his grasp. "Heheh. Bingo, five-o. Seems you're not blind to Desperado's power like some of my men." Amidst the only sound, being that of the city ambience, he smirked wickedly at Darius. "Well, now that you're well acquainted with her, how about a little play time?!"
Tension filled the backstreet as they silently exchanged glowering expressions at one another, neither of them moving an inch. Darius's eyes wandered back and forth between Angus and his band of thugs, who were settled on the sidelines, anticipating the best fight they'd bear witness to all day. As if both of men shared the same exact thought, Darius sprang into action, his Drive aura blitzing through the alley as he took the initiative to make the first strike. At the same time, Angus acted swiftly, firing nail after nail, neither of which landing a single hit on Darius. He was a blur of hot red streaks, circling around him first — trash being flung in various directions as they caught the wind of his rapid motion. Unexpectedly, he bolted towards him believing this was his chance. Angus didn't stand a chance anticipating his next move.
As Angus turned back and caught sight of him, Darius catapulted himself from the concrete, leaving a crater beneath the sole of his shoe where he leapt. He performed a flawless somersault in mid-air, torpedoing heel-first over Angus. Not having the time to stand there and take aim at Darius, Angus dodge-rolled out of the way, coming to a lying position. Remanifesting his stand in hand, he promptly aimed where Darius landed and fired.
SCHOOPF
SQUELCH
Darius cried out at the sudden, sharp sting in his right calf. He grit his teeth and yanked the nail from his deadened leg, a stream of blood trickling down his ankle and over his shoe. "Malaka!" Channeling Drive, Darius sped towards Angus at lightning speed, tackling him as he began to scurry to a standing position. As they toppled over, Darius dug his knuckles into his cheekbone, then swung again, clocking him against his brow. Just as Angus directed his stand at Darius, he was met with a strength to rival his own. Darius grabbed a hold, struggling to redirect its aim towards the sky as Angus struggled to maintain steadiness. Both men strained, each trying to overpower the other.
Angus laughed through his forceful effort, the strain in his voice evident as he attempted to taunt his opponent. "Is this all you got, five-o? Come on, surely your stand can do better than run circles around me all day!"
Darius grunted and spat back, "You are filth! A true Drive user never, under any circumstances, uses their stand for supernatural warfare! It is a gift only to be called upon in times of need, not to inflict terror on living things!" Again, he pushed back against Angus's need to aim forward. "Unlike you, I have no need for mine. For, I am an unstoppable force!"
Angus laughed. "Oh, yeah? Then why are you having such a hard time?"
"Because Drive in its own right cannot harm a living organism, nor a stand for that matter. In this struggle against evil, I am just as human as you are. Make no mistake, stands and Drive are one and the same. It's how I am able to pry your nails from my flesh. But a non-living thing can easily be torn asunder under its influence!"
In that moment, Darius quickly balled a fist. He belted out a mighty cry and pounded the asphalt mere inches away from Angus's head, causing him to wince his eyes shut. Debris, sediment, and dust flew up in the air, temporarily giving Darius the advantage he needed. With Angus momentarily blinded, Darius aimed the nail gun for his throat and forced Angus's finger to press the trigger.
Desperado's nail pierced its user's skin, prompting a small flow of blood to spurt from the wound. Everything from the neck up became paralyzed, seemingly inanimate, though Angus's desperate attempts at speaking echoed in his ribcage. That, as well as his eyes rolling around freely.
Darius sat over him, heaving from exertion as he kept his hand clamped tightly over Angus's, pressing firmly against Desperado's trigger. "We can keep this up all day, or you can let me go home in one piece. Make your choice, al ahmaq."
As Angus's men began to approach the two, ready to defend their boss, Angus raised a hand, signaling them to cease. If he were able to do so, he would grin from ear to ear. His raised hand lowered in defeat, silently declaring Darius the winner, though this confused Darius. He stood up and cocked a brow at the man adorned in nails. From the depths of Angus's chest, came a reverberating chuckle. It was almost a little menacing; almost. But he clearly had the freedom to pry the nail from his throat, so why didn't he?
Darius backed away, giving Angus the room he needed to move. He sat up from the scattered rubble and finally removed Desperado's nail, willing him the ability to speak and move his head as he normally would. Crazed laughter echoed off of the brick walls around them.
"Well, I'll be goddamned!" Angus remarked. "Call me a canvas, and color me impressed, five-o, you managed to beat me without a stand." He continued laughing as he pressed a hand to his knee and stood before Darius, grinning. "In all my years of working with Quiet Riot that has never happened. Not to my dad, nor his, nor to my men. Ha!" He reached behind his neck and rubbed it. "Boy, that's sure embarrassing as hell, I'll tell you what!" As he approached Darius, he recoiled, stepping away. Angus went to extend a hand to him, fueling Darius's bemusement more. He looked him up and down mistrustfully, but Angus insisted on keeping his hand out for a good firm shake.
"Congratulations," he said, "you passed your initiation."
Darius's face contorted in shock. "What?!"
Angus assumed he wasn't going to accept a handshake and simply sauntered past him. The air around them shifted and the danger was as good as gone. "I'll send one of my men down to the train tracks later to meet with you. Just ask for Bon Ressen. Then… the real work begins."
Flabbergasted as all get out, Darius went to retort, but all he could do was stammer on his words, finding each one ill-matched for the fury beginning to bubble inside of him. And just as soon as they'd come, Quiet Riot parted ways, leaving him alone.
.
.
"I don't understand…" Joliet murmured, "...you… waded right through Avantasia's sap. Nothing is supposed to be able to do such a thing…! I…"
The effects of the glue begat a drowsy, almost unbearably nauseous feeling to come over Avdol as it rested over his shoulders in large globs, but still he wouldn't relent. He had to get through to her somehow — some way. "I know you're frightened, Joliet. You're in an unfamiliar place, full of unfamiliar faces. When I first came here, I felt the same way as you. I was scared. In fact, I was far too young to be working for Angus, but my mother was ill and she needed me more than ever."
Joliet's adamant guard slowly began to dwindle as she listened to Avdol tell his story.
"My father came to France with a hope hot as the sun that we would find a better life here, when all we found was rejection. Not because of who we were, but because the world simply didn't have a place for us anymore. Underworld organizations were his only option, he didn't have a choice."
Joliet frowned and shook her head. "There's always a choice."
"Touché. You're absolutely right. If only it worked that way for us, I'd gladly leave this place behind and forge a new future — a better future. Not just for myself, but for the people of Skid Row. And if I had the power to do so, the world."
She furrowed her brows, reluctantly beginning the process of absorbing the glue from Avdol with Avantasia's vines. "I don't quite get you… you speak as if you're truly benevolent at heart, yet you concern yourself with… well… him." She gestured to Léon, who remained in a deep sleep from the glue's effects.
Avdol looked back at him and sighed. "Léon acts outwardly brash, but for as long as I've known him, I can guarantee you he's suffered a tremendous fate that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. He can be stubborn, and especially temperamental… but underneath all of that hatred, his heart's intact, and he doesn't really mean the horrible things he says."
Joliet cocked a brow. "Is that so?" She said it as if she didn't fully believe it, but could possibly come to accept that if in fact Avdol did speak the truth.
He gave her an assuring nod, accompanied with a warm smile. "You have my word, princess."
She scoffed at the formality. "I find it particularly curious that absolutely no one in Skid Row seems to believe France has a princess at all… why do you?"
Avdol shrugged. "Who am I to say there is or isn't? If princess is the title you choose to go by, then I see no reason why I shouldn't respect that. After all, we are who we believe ourselves to be. It isn't my place to invalidate you…" he extended a hand to her, smiling, "...but to help you."
His words struck her bewildered.
"As for why our faces are on the news, I can explain everything to you. Whether you choose to believe me or not, I will humbly respect your choice."
The speed at which Avantasia was reabsorbing the glue picked up and the stand retreated into her back, disappearing as if it had never been summoned at all. With uncertainty clear in her eyes, Joliet reached out a trembling hand to take his. She glanced up at him, the inner corners of her brows upturned, denoting worry.
"It's alright," Avdol promised her, "if getting you back home means this much to you, we will help you."
Artificial tears beaded in the corners of her eyes as she wiped one away with her free hand. "I suppose I should thank you. But I must warn you: don't mistake my withdrawal for naivete. I don't completely trust you, at least not yet."
"Avdol nodded. "Fair enough."
"Though with such a generous offer, and with the knowledge you possess of your... mmm, surroundings... I'm willing to give you a chance. As far as you helping me return to the capital, I'm holding you to your word, um... what was your name again?"
"Abbas Avdol. But you may refer to me as Avdol." He gestured to Léon and Tenmei behind him with his thumb. "They do."
Peeping around him, she noted the sleep induced Léon and Tenmei, who was curled up in a ball, snoring loudly. Joliet's fingertips graced her lips as she suppressed a small giggle. "You know, the more I pay attention to him, the more I realize he's… kind of harmless."
"Kind of?! He's the biggest pacifist I've ever met." Avdol leaned in and whispered. "He's also the biggest yes-man… don't tell him I told you that." That remark caused Joliet and Avdol to exchange laughter. "Out of curiosity, what can we do to, um… wake them up?"
"Oh. It'll take at least an hour for the effects to wear off."
"Ah, I see. Would you like to continue the tour from before while we wait?"
Joliet hummed in thought. "I suppose there's nothing else to do, so…sure! If you would be so kind as to lead the way, Monsieur Avdol."
He held up his hands. "Please, just Avdol is fine. Mister just makes me feel old."
.
.
An hour whisked by, and soon Léon and Tenmei were both wide awake, still feeling slight nausea from Avantasia's sap. In no time at all, Tenmei was up, powering through his trifling ailments and back whistling while he worked like nothing had happened. The machines in his workspace still needed a tune-up, and he was eager to get started. Léon, on the other hand, had a massive headache. He was seated at the table in Tenmei's workshop just like before with a cold soda bottle in one hand, and an ice pack in the other, pressing it against his aching temple. His eye was still swollen from the fight with the Motorhead gang, the icepack helping the swelling go down as he sat at the table and groaned.
"I swear to god, if another stand user attacks me between here and home, I'm going to riot."
"Just take aspirin!" Tenmei spoke cheerfully from across the table as he tinkered with the junk strewn about. "I got some if you need it."
"I'm good, probably just over-tired from being chased around the city all night."
"Hmm, yeah, I guess that could be it." The sound of Tenmei hammering corrosion away from metal made Léon wince.
TING
TING
TING
"Hey, Tenmei, could you —"
TING
TING
TING
"Tenmei…"
TING
TING
TING
"Grrr, Tenmei!"
Tenmei glanced up with a chipper expression plastered across his face. "Yes?"
"Can you, maybe… hammer that somewhere else? My head is pounding."
"Oh, sure! Sorry about that." Tenmei scooped up his junk off the table, bits, odds, and ends, falling with a plonk on the table's surface as he relocated it elsewhere. The counter just feet away from the table behind him as a matter of fact.
TING
TING
TING
Léon groaned and hung his head in defeat. "You're still… nevermind."
Avdol and Joliet walked through the mouth of the roomy cavern and came up to Léon, who glanced up at them expecting someone to ask something of him.
"What…" he muttered. He at least hoped they weren't, he wasn't in the mood.
"Had a word with Angus just now." Avdol said.
Léon glanced over, not quite making eye contact. "...And?"
"Joliet needs clothes."
He should've figured as much. Having little patience to deal with her, he settled for removing his sleeveless jacket. "Okay, here." He carelessly tossed it into her arms, not bothering to look her way.
"Hey!" she cried. " Ugh! This thing stinks! Don't you have people that… I don't know, wash your clothes?"
"What, in Skid Row? Get real." the realization that she — an android — claimed it stunk then hit him in the face like a frying pan. "Wait, wait, wait!" He turned around in his chair, waving a hand with knitted brows. "You can smell?!"
"Of course I can," she replied, "with the proper installments, any android can. Though I must say it's a little amusing that my sense of smell seems to be leagues better than yours." Joliet flung the jacket back at him. It covered his entire face with a fwap.
He grabbed it and slung it down on the table, biting back with a retort when Tenmei's hammering interrupted the argument, making it damn near impossible to hear anything.
TING
TING
TING
"Tenmei, can't you do that somewhere else?!"
Tenmei hummed, poking the wrench to his chin as he slowly turned around to face the group. "I could, but then the energy in the room would be uncomfortable. I prefer listening to loud banging noises instead." He smiled like a dork and shrugged before returning back to hammering away without a care in the world. As his hammer banged and clanged against the hunk of metal on the counter, Léon glimpsed over his shoulder realizing that he wasn't banging away at corrosion anymore, but just…banging metal for the hell of it.
Inexplicably, Tenmei began to beat the hammer against the metal in a rhythmic pattern, humming along to what Léon assumed to be a tune in his head. At least that was always his excuse for humming out of the blue.
"Bop boop bop bop, beep bap bahhhhpp." he sang painfully out of tune.
Léon rolled his eyes. "Alright, I get it. You don't want anybody arguing."
"Anyway," Avdol chimed in, "there was something else."
"What?" Léon arched a brow at him.
"With the current war going on between Quiet Riot and Motorhead, Angus requested that one of us find a safe place for Joliet to stay." Avdol stared directly into Léon's eyes, making the implication rather clear.
Léon looked behind him, then back at Avdol. He shook his head in an ohhhh nooo, not me fashion. God forbid spending another agonizing second with her, er…it. "Ohhhh, no you don't. Can't you or Tenmei do it?"
Avdol looked over to Tenmei, who was still banging incessantly and singing utter gibberish. "We can't. In case you've forgotten, Tenmei and I are actually heading to the waterfront on Angus's orders."
A weight of dread plopped into his stomach as his left eye twitched. "You're shittin' me…" Just then, Angus walked in with a full cup of coffee. His gray braid fell over his shoulder and behind his back as he sat into Tenmei's chair and sipped the hot, bitter, black drink. Wasting no time at all, Léon confronted him. "Angus! You're not really taking them to the waterfront without me, are you?!"
Angus sipped his coffee and smacked his lips together. "Hmm. Damn, should've added another scoop." He looked up at Léon, who was expecting an answer that he wanted, rather than the truth. "For this mission, Tenmei's stand is a necessity. How else do you expect us to make off with all those guns? Tenmei can just shove them in his pocket and it's a done deal."
Léon shot him a deadpan stare. "Weren't you the one that said he was a liability?"
Angus spat his coffee back into his cup, immediately looking over his shoulder in hopes Tenmei didn't hear him. Thankfully not. He'd put in portable headphones and blasted synth metal like it was nobody's business. Angus cringed as he watched him wail out of tune while he moved equipment around in the background. Angus sighed a breath of relief. "I wish you wouldn't say that out loud, you blundering dipshit!"
"I wish you wouldn't always talk about Tenmei behind his back, like he's a fucking nuisance, you south-end of a northbound jackass!"
Angus shot up out of his seat, making Joliet take a step back in fear. Avdol groaned, rolling his eyes and throwing his face into his hands. Léon and Angus squared up, practically puffing their chests out like a pair of porcupinefish. Their gazes narrowed at each other as they bickered back and forth, calling each other names…the likes of which Tenmei would've had a conniption if he'd heard them. Joliet internally commanded her ear machinations to lower the volume all the way to zero, making Léon and Angus the spitting image of an ancient silent film.
Avdol peered up from his hands, glowering at the show of testosterone in front of him. He let out a low growl that grew in volume until he shouted, "That's enough!"
Silence engulfed the room save for Tenmei's awful warbling and breathy yeahhh Tenmei! Ahhhhhhh!
"Léon," Avdol said, taking a breath to compose himself, "would it kill you to drive Joliet somewhere and get her something more suitable to wear?"
"Yes."
"Léon!"
"I'm not driving… it …around in a…" he eyed her up and down, grimacing at the curtain fashioned into a dress. "...uh, whatever that is. That's like strapping one of those outdated, creepy mannequin things to my bike and driving around with a sign on my back that says: I have never been laid. Kill me now.
"Would the sign be wrong? And besides, I'm not staying in a place like this." Joliet declared, crossing her arms.
Léon growled. "What's so wrong with staying at the quarry?!"
"It's disgusting! It's cramped, it smells, and I'd rather be anywhere than stuck here with a sentist like you!" Joliet jabbed a finger into his chest, enunciating those last three words.
"Keep your cold, lifeless fingers off me, bot."
Just to prove she could, Joliet poked him, digging it into his sternum for good measure. "Oh-ho! Seems like they have life after all, being that I put them there."
Léon chuckled deviously as a warning. "You really don't think I'll hand you over to those Dismantlist freaks, do you? Don't think I have that in me?"
"Do you need a repeat of an hour ago?" Avantasia's vines crept around her arms, making him shudder.
The weight of Angus glaring at him to follow orders, Avdol begging him to just do the damn task, and Joliet threatening to utilize her stand again, made Léon feel like he was trapped beneath a compressor, about to get smashed to smithereens — no escape, no bribing, no passing the job to someone else. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair and admitted defeat.
"Fine. Let's go…" in a huff, he slipped his jacket back on, pushed past Avdol and Joliet, and made his leave through the narrow tunnels. Hesitant at first, Joliet swallowed her pride and went along with him.
Every so often, they'd pass beneath a lightbulb, connected to a cable running all along the tunnel's ceiling. The whole way there, Joliet kept her distance behind him, while he occasionally would peek over his shoulder to make sure she actually was coming. Part of him felt awful for being such a jerk, but the other half spurred him to ignore that feeling. Still, it felt wrong. It wasn't like him to express sympathy for A.I.s, with the exception of AL. But there he was stopping in his tracks, scratching the back of his head, and ruminating on the decision of whether he should or should not apologize to an android. Deciding to press onward, he came to a manhole with a rusty metal ladder.
"I'd say be careful not to cut yourself, but… guess you don't have to worry about that, do you?"
Joliet sneered. "Hmph!"
It was 10:00 a.m. A stray light on the substation ceiling flickered as Léon continued down the path that would bring them to their next destination. The stairs that would have taken them to the surface were blocked off by large rubble, which would make the place seem claustrophobic to anyone. But Léon knew those tunnels like the back of his hand. As he led her through the darkened passage, Joliet noticed something just off the small drop-off to her right. Railway tracks underground, of all places.
"Is this…?" She let out a gasp. "Is this a real subway?" she asked, her voice reverberating.
"What're you talking about?" Léon calmly replied, turning on his heel.
Joliet pointed. "Your quarry runs through a subway?! I never knew that!"
"Yeah, it's pretty ancient. This thing hasn't been used in hundreds of years. Fun fact: this is where people went to escape the radiation during World War III." He pressed on, eager to get what she needed and get back asap.
Joliet gave a small smile as she followed him. "You just managed to surprise me."
Léon arched a brow. "What, how?"
"For a Skid Rower, you seem well-educated."
"Oh, fuck off! I may be poor, but I'm not stupid. Everyone that's gone to school here knows what the subrails are. Trains don't run underground anymore, they haven't for a reeeal long time. Now they've got the Magnarail, their pride and joy. They don't need this piece of shit."
Joliet activated the LEDs in her oculars, getting another look as she passed. "I've always wanted to see this, you know? I think it's fascinating! I… can't believe I'm saying this, but… thanks for taking me through here."
Wait, did she just thank me? "Umm… it was nothing."
After a long and tiring passage, Léon and Joliet set foot out of an enormous culvert, and into the sunlight. A wide, concrete drain ditch greeted Joliet's feet with warmth. Maybe a bit more than she'd have liked.
"It feels so good to be outside again!"
Léon looked at her, and cracked a sideways smile, unable to stifle a laugh.
"What're you laughing at?"
"You act like you've been a prisoner down there forever."
Joliet poked her nose to the sky haughtily. "Hm. Felt like forever to me. Underground life is abhorrent. I never want to come back here again."
"No promises." Léon stated, climbing the metal rungs along the concrete wall. When he reached the top, he extended a hand down to Joliet, who seemed offended he would even offer help in the first place. "Stop being such a bitch and get up here." He rolled his eyes and looked around impatiently while he waited for her to straighten out the hem of her… curtain. "No one's going to see your metal butt, now come on."
Joliet seethed all the way up the rails, rehearsing a comeback under her breath. Reaching for the last rung, he grabbed a hold of her by the wrists and pulled her up. Their gazes met unexpectedly as he froze. It was then Léon noted something he hadn't paid attention to before. Her eyes were an unusually vibrant, emerald green.
Damn… wonder who made those… He shook his head to dispel whatever that moment was between them and sauntered off to borrow a car from the liquor store parking lot across the street. Approaching one of the vehicles, he scanned the area and began to mess around with the keypad on the door.
Joliet gasped and cried out a little louder than she realized, "You can't do that, that's stealing! "
"Bet."
Extracting a mini device from his pants pocket, Léon pressed a button and a beam ran a scan over the chip located near the screen. These were illegal devices crafted by developers on the Spanish black market. The chip in question could normally be read only by the same device made by the same manufacturer of the car. Joliet looked around Léon both out of curiosity and disgust. A roulette of numbers landed the matching code and once Léon slipped it into the port, the car door opened in an upwards motion.
"Oh, that is just low!" Joliet scolded. "What if someone needs their car in an emergency?!"
Léon snickered climbing into the driver's seat. "Your outfit's an emergency, and we need it. So…"
Joliet scoffed and folded her arms. "I'm not getting in."
"Suit yourself." Sliding a command across a screen, the door began to close automatically, shutting Joliet outside with a dumbfounded look on her face.
"No! You can't just leave me here."
The window rolled down and Léon's face was deadpan. "Really…"
In a panic, Joliet stammered as she paced back and forth.
"Would you just get in?"
"Grrr…! Fine!" Climbing in through the window, she grabbed the seat and strained, pulling herself in. Léon's brow raised and he let out a poorly concealed snort as a reaction to the poor girl's attempt at climbing into the passenger seat. She yelped, sliding through the window and collapsing face-first onto the console with a thunk. Léon's snorting finally escaped the confines of his jowls, and he belted out ill-controlled laughter at her misfortune. An annoyed scowl was present on Joliet's face as she sat up in her seat and crossed both arms, as well as one leg over the other, and glared. Clearly affronted.
"You know," he managed to get past a few chuckles, "I was going to open the door for you."
Joliet growled, turning her gaze out the passenger window with a scoff. "You are the most insufferable human-being I've ever met." Those words only fueled Léon's laughter further, making him wheeze as he slapped the steering control. She sighed as Léon drove the car out of the parking lot and onto a highway. After a few minutes of listening to the muffled wind from the car's interior, she spoke up, "So… where are you taking me again?"
"To a friend of mine's place. She'll be more than happy to help you."
"She?"
Léon's gaze became distant. He didn't especially feel comfortable on the idea of opening up about the woman of his past. A memory so dear and inevitably trapped within the confines of his shattered heart. "Well... you'll see when we get there." It was all he could think to say without going too deep on the matter. Just the slightest mention of her name was enough to send him into an endless night of turmoil. No sleep, no peace of mind, and a pain he'd been running from nearly his entire life. It was strange how one minute he'd be fine and going about his typical routine. Then the next, planted in a web of solitude just as gripping as Avantasia's glue. Why? Why was it so hard for him to move on?
Léon's eyes waned into dejection, staring longingly through the windshield. I hope you're doing well these days... Roxette...
