On a space of stone fixed like some zone of exclusion I kept to eyeing groups of people corralled into sparse rows, with impatient looking garrison men at the helm slouched to their tables of documents at the end of it .
The ones in line looked haggard and despondent , and you would've thought they were dead standing, if it weren't for the deep breaths they took minute to minute or the sluggish shamble forward, as the line progressed where their head craned up seeming mechanical to where their mouths hung open like a fish.
There'd also been more people huddled sitting just plain crouched on the floor, some by a fountain to the center over there lain over themselves with sweat off their creased brows, as if they might get fused off the sizzling heat on the stones of a design you'd see on the flooring of some chapel. And there'd be bystanders bleeding into the processing too, only watching.
I looked to the two exits to the main street. A lazy two-man armed guard to each so there'd been little to no thought of sneaking out here from me. Even if it did looked easy.
And so here I was still stuck in the square, now having to hear a woman's wailing in the crowd. It would've been drowned out, if it weren't for the fact that anyone else wasn't that damn loud. And it was already buzzing with noise before.
Man, I haven't eaten something cooked in a while. Too much salted and preserved shit in my system lately. And don't get me started on that molded stuff. Well, at least it lasts.
And when the hell am I gonna get outta here?
Hey, at least the crying's dying down. And...it went silent pretty quick.
I stood up among a crouched crowd, and there I saw two men of the garrison stood side by side, prodding curious with the butt of their muskets a woman sprawled over like a sack of limbs on those stony floors.
They kept poking a while before they stopped, and got to dragging the woman by the arms away off to some crevice by the streets in the inner chasm of some alleyway .
And her arms began to lock in some gesture as she was dropped to the ground, like she was cradling something. And she hadn't gotten up.
"There's more in it with dying out in the great outdoors. Those folds of green. Now you'd be lucky if the rats even come take you." Someone remarked by my earshot.
I looked to the other survivors around. They were watching it all unfold with not a glare to them, no frown, nothing. And I did too, as it was more mine to do so.
Their eyes looked empty slots like hollowed out statues, with large rays of light cascading down to this square of this urban rock, not in any obscuration from the walls this moment in any manifestation.
Some loud call of a man rang through the masses after . I couldn't make out what he said. I faced its source to see a garrison man slowly waving over his black-haired head a hand to this direction. And I recognized him.
One of the surviving scouts of the reclamation, more in one piece than his colleagues to be exact, so way easier to recognize too. And I cocked an ear and watched his lips with two eyes squinted to figure out just what the hell he was saying.
"Next group"
And that seemed like what the people huddled around me had figured so too, as they all got up with a stagger to their steps and trekked towards the man. Well, I'm not keen on sittin around longer either.
I walked in step with the people around me, careful not to get shoved around in the horde. Even with the outdoors of this district a musty smell had overwritten any other scent around for me. That feeling of being outside was always vacant. Must be the work of the walls.
I'd found myself being lead into some office, and there were people vacating fast as soon I came in with dusty sheets in their arms pacing out to the streets.
And it all looked like the last stop to this whole damn schtick, hopefully. If so, then fucking finally. If not, I swear I'm gonna make a run for it. But I doubt my stubby legs would outrun a maneuver gear.
A narrowed-eyed stare of a garrison man aimed at all entrants, lazily seated to his chair flipping over the page of some book in his hand. And another stood by straight just leaning against the dusty stone walls with his sights seemingly lording over every single living thing in the place.
Everyone else slowly scrambled to form a line to the table where that garrison survivor sat. And I followed suit. There was some remarks I couldn't make out thrown around by those seated over behind the survivor, and the people in line seems to lower their heads down at the rough tone, before they done their business and went their way.
And there were the loud barefoot steps and tapping on the floorboards, with groans and rough-like-sandpaper coughs across the small space among the occupants.
And so as it went on in length, my turn came around and I stood while finding myself fidgeting a bit while that garrison survivor went over the document that I had on me.
"The things we gotta do for people who can't even die well." The man who leant on the wall spoke out loud, staring straight at me. And I gave no reaction but a furrowed brow.
"Yeah, what else can they do besides gobble up and shit out?" The garrison guy seated by him replied right back.
That garrison survivor at the table in front on me had his lips shifting, and I saw the grip on his pencil tighten that there was an audible squeak, before resuming his jots again.
I only let out a silent huff. Wasn't really part of the reclamation , anyways. So it's all just wasted breaths. But jeez, they really don't give a break to the ones that were, do they?
Well, I think I wouldn't either, seeing that one more person coming back alive from out there is one less morsel of food you gotta forfeit. Some things were more preferable than prolonged hunger. Not sure how much your values can get jettisoned when put at hazard. Wouldn't like to think about it either.
The moment I was handed my document back , I turned and immediately paced towards the door, ignoring some mutter or flurry of words spat out behind me. I just wanna get outta here.
A pale nimbus greeted me. Hovering and blocking the sun, and the waking world going darker with those archaic residences cloaked in shade where it seemed judgement day at whatever part of the world that was.
I shut my mouth that I now only knew was hanging open. And I wasn't sure on how long I was sitting on this here bench either. Haven't even gotten that far from where I left.
Well I'm here, lookin at all those people pass by in sweet civilization like I wanted to. And stuck on what to grapple with after. Damn, there's always more to want.
Join the scouts. Well I'm sure that's a given. Who'd wouldn't want to be on the side of the victor if possible? Even at great risk and in costly wins , they'd get their triumphs either way. For that, I reckon that I just need to survive. And that seems easier even with what's to come, and what's predisposed.
But I'd say that's about a year away before I can start getting to it, or to anything at all really. There's not much to do in-between in this body.
And the monotony, oh the monotony.
There are all the elements aside from the obvious that doesn't betray the fact that I'm on earth, and all's the same old same old , with the way it works remaining as it is. But...time. Time. That was a whole new case.
...
...
It was getting dark.
Better find an inn. Let's see if those stacks of notes I scavenged back at Maria were actually currency.
And before I stood to get up and going, through the waves of people I noticed a familiar face coming out that registration place I just waltzed out from.
That survivor. Would've just spared only a raised brow to him, if it weren't for the weird movements he was making.
His eyes were darting around- his posture looking tense and jittery- his head turning all directions before he finally came to look calm. And by that he couldn't look more conspicuous or paranoid if he tried. But the thing is, what's he gotta be on the lookout that much for?
I kept watching him.
The guy, now seeming calm, took out something that looked like a smoking pipe, lighting it up with a piece flint and steel , taking drags from it before he started to make his trek along the streets.
He was still giving the occasional looks over his shoulder as he strolled along the walkways. And I kept my eye on him till he went a turn.
And that would've been the last of what I took notice to, if it weren't for the fact that three other men at a bench nearby all stood up and started tailing the guy.
Now, there's a million other good things I could be by just going on my way and minding my own business. And that's exactly what I'm gonna do.
So I just watched that group of three up just a few feet behind that survivor, their pace matched enough to not get too close . And they began to fade in the distance as they went on, marching into the far stretch of the streets.
...
...
...
Aw, can't kill the cat can I?
Getting off my seating, I went in brisk wading through some sparse scatterings of souls around me looking like howling phantoms with how fast I moved across, and there went fewer men and even fewer animals nor any creatures when I finally slowed down and caught up.
People seemed to shy away the more I went on, and more cracks and signs of dilapidation seemed visible everywhere nearby like I was watching the world grow more ancient than even now.
And there were only those three men and that survivor there. And it went more silent too, and only those far clattering of footsteps of those men in the closing distance.
I sticked close by anything that could hide my form, back lowered and with eyes squinted aimed to the targets of my observation.
I stopped. Those three and that survivor were now headed into the what looked like another turn again. Spurring these spindly kid legs on, I picked up the pace and went close with careful steps.
I hugged along a wall's edge just at the turn, leaning over one side and peering into that space to see what it harbored. By there nothing aside remaining but an alley with a tall wall at its end.
And there I saw it.
Those three men, who I could make out more all wearing long-coats obscuring any slight movement with their worn olden hats over their heads, seeming faceless from where I stood with some of their backs turned.
The survivor was lain on those stony grounds, and I looked closer to see that he had with him a bloodied nose, still leaking as I heard him speaking to the three men standing over his form.
I listened and tried to make out what they said, but I couldn't tell which of the those three was talking, but only the survivor and the chatter of differing voices back and forth.
"-etting chewed to death and getting shanked are a worst from the selection of two fates. But I guess here's your choice, ain't it so?"
".....I guess that's so."
"Gotta decide what minuscule dignity there is in each one."
The survivor reared his head to the three over him, seeming to stare at the assailants with even more of a fatigued face. And I kept listening, and watching. He was shaking and swaying around, his elbow stationed in support of him; the only thing that seemed to keep him from falling flat on his back.
The survivor then spoke up, breathing heavy, words barely audible to me,
"Can I as-...can I ask wh-..?"
"No." One of the assailants crouched down to the survivor. "Could be a dispute. Could be loosened threads. Could be pure meanness. Could be for snoopin. But all that's to relevance is that whoever it be had means to rid and expunge you from memory. Don't stress it. It already is and has, son."
He leaned closer, and I saw him dig a hand into his coat and quickly got to jamming something into the survivor's chest. It wasn't hard to figure out what was gonna go down. I got ready to bolt.
A low gurgle rang and was silenced, then it was gone. And later all the sound that rung through the narrow alley were those thuds against soft flesh.
Shit. I back-stepped immediately from over the wall's edge and tip-toed further away. And then I turned around facing the stretch of the streets, and went into a jog, slowly picking up the pace.
No mistaking it. Just seen what I ain't supposed to. Well...at least I'm getting use to those kind of things.
But those three...I can take a guess on their who they're with. Still, better get away quick first, before joggin my brain about it.
Oh, fuck me.
A tall figure stepped out from some turn or wall stopping me dead without an hint of movement.
Black trench coat. Bowler hat. And a v-like line of facial hair jutting out from under the featureless and shadowed face.I didn't know when he stepped forward or made a move, but he now stood in front of me.
And all that was in view for me was a plain of white and black. I craned my head up slow, looking at familiar eyes, with my memory of its face attached gradually coming back to me.
And I didn't know when i had begun to quake either. But I still mustered myself up, looking at the man in front of me, my neck aching at how much far it had to reach up to look up to a thinly-bearded face.
"What did ya see?" One Kenny Ackerman asked me. Me.
...
Footsteps ringing behind me. I only gave a robotic glance to it. Didn't have to guess what the source of them where. Sounds like they're done.
But I didn't dare take my eyes off the glaring man in front of me a second more, with me struggling to get words out my mouth.
"Nothin." I gave my answer, mustering all in me to not sound shaky.
"Good."
And immediately after his hands were stretched to me and there was a strong force pulling me, and I felt something tugging off from me where I stumbled and almost tripped on the ground.
In one moment there after Kenny now held my satchel by the upside, shaking and spilling all contents on the dusty walkway, my self still in more than a few dazes.
He seemed like he was scanning for something as he parsed through all the contents of the bag. I stopped any sudden movements I intended to make, and only waited.
My sights were focused on Kenny's, who didn't seem to pay me no mind as he kept on his search seeming to glance to that crumpled and grimy registration paper I had stuffed into the satchel before.
I heard a low chuckle out of him. And he swiped that particular piece off the ground, a smile growing on that wrinkled face as he had the paper in his grasp.
Then he dropped it without a care, walking closer to me. I tensed, feeling every hair on my body standing.
"Better learn to hate."
He passed me. It took a few seconds from me to look back to see four darkly wardrobed figures walking away, disappearing in the distance. And their footsteps becoming non-audible as the noise of crowds and children grated and rung only a block away.
And those four now only distant figures went on, and of them there was no trace. I went to get my bearings, picking everything dropped off my satchel.
Fuck. My hands were sweaty, and I was shortly bound to wiping my brow from all the creased liquids dripping and build-up of grime. Gathering all my belongings, I went on.
And before I'd done so, I went to look at that alleyway again. Some hint of curiosity still swelling in me. That child brain speaking again. I swear that's gonna kill me one day or another. Hell, it almost did.
One body laid looking stony and wooden, surrounded by mounds of trash and splintery planks flanked by those dusty and worn rock-walls. And the setting dark of the sunset starting to claim the dead man.
A smoking pipe was jammed deep into his right eye, and two bleeding and torn holes both sides of his leaking head where the ears should've been. Tomorrow, or even just a few hours later, this man would probably no longer exist. A few people's memory don't seem fair matched with what's written. Not mine either. And maybe that's why I ain't there too.
...
...
...I got things to do.
In the distance in the next few streets where all the lamp lights were, to where the long casted projections of people and objects in movement dwelled, I went on.
Finding a proper map of Paradis is a little hard. And I'm not sure the ones I found are accurate. Been needing it to get a clear picture of the terrain and geography aside from the wikis for future chapters. Guess I'll keep looking.
Until Next time.