Chapter Summary
- GRATEFUL
Can't believe I had an episode like that... For the longest time, I've never told anyone. Not Jade. Rahim. Or Brecken. No one. And now, I ended up telling to the one person I didn't think I could trust... But I'm glad it was her and no one else. - Kyle
SIXTEEN: LIGHTS OUT
Partners.
It was a word he had never really taken in before. Never accepted it once. Crane had freelanced other jobs before GRE, and then that company. Always, he did his assignments solo. Past work taught him this: having a partner was a liability in his line of work. And mostly because it ended up the other way around—Crane was too soft, says his dossier.
He had always been alone for those two reasons. No one to get injured on a job, and no one to tell him how to do a job. Can't stop for sentimentals, but won't stop for bullshit.
Going alone was fine for the most part. Biting down on a piece of wood while having to do his own surgery with a hot-heated needle on a bullet wound? He came out alright. A lie to himself just to pull through.
'Partners' was also a word he never thought would and could come out of Jack. Contradicting herself even: doing a solo assignment on her blood perk, then partnering with a mutant.
But he had a feeling that she had a partner in the past. One she had watched their back, relied on their shoulder, and had full confidence in their skill. Her actions had shown Crane that. So again, he couldn't help but think of the question, just who is she?
A beeping sound under all the rain hit his ears.
Jack lifted up her PACT, the modified watch timer on her wrist glowing bright. The countdown has begun.
"Night's here," she breathed tiredly. "How are you holding up?"
When asked that, it took a moment for Kyle to register an answer. He couldn't tell internally if it was day or night, especially with how dark the storm clouds were above them. The lightning might have frightened his other side off for Kyle to take back his reins, but...he didn't feel it.
No unhinging. No slipping into the darkness. It was the feeling of being grounded, a little different from the times Jack got him to take her blood frontally.
Crane was anchored down. And it felt rejuvenating. Light on his shoulders.
"Good," he confessed. "...Still feel like shit. But good."
"Better than feeling nothing."
He wasn't sure. Maybe nothing could help numb the emotions more. But he didn't object to what Jack said.
"Now. How about looking for shelter, hm?" Jack asked, gesturing for him to take the lead. "Doesn't look like it's going to lighten up for some time - shit!"
Kk-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerk-kzt!
There was a sharp shriek in the ears. Something immediately turned the volume so high that it came off terrible, even to Crane's superhearing. He groaned aloud, having yanked the earpiece out for clarity. Jack was almost inclined to pull hers but waited out the pain.
"That smarts," Kyle murmured.
"Guess the storm did a number on the comms too. Yeah? Hello?" she called out through the comms, picking up a tiny voice through the static. "Siv? Siv, I can barely hear you."
Finally, the voice stirred through the crackles.
"Bzzt - ck! Jack! Can you hear me?! We have a problem!"
That couldn't be good.
"What happened?"
"You don't see it? Look around you!" the young girl's voice hollered over the feedback. "The storm must have hit the whole city's power grid!"
The gravity of the situation hit the two hard, making them scan around as quickly as possible. The surrounding buildings, the lamp streets, and the windows. In a city abandoned by the world, left to be devoured up from the inside and now, it was pitch black. The rain clouds even hid the moon.
Jack could neither see anything for miles nor barely be within an arm's length, even with her torchlight. And yet, it was possible for Crane to detect the illuminated bodies from afar. Brighter than before, like fireflies. Panicking, fleeing, dying out.
"The whole-?! I thought it was this district!" Jack uttered, pointing to the ground she stood.
"No! It's lights out everywhere! Noam thinks this could be a geomagnetic storm but-but-"
"Are you and everyone ok?" Jack asked. Now wasn't the time to cook up 'theories'.
"Y-Yes! We got backup generators. But Jack...it's the entire city! No one is safe!"
"No power. No UV lights. No safe zones," Crane whispered, catching Jack's realization at his words.
For twelve hours, no light in the decaying, inky city.
"Open season for Volatiles…" Jack exclaimed. Her eyes stretched at their biggest. "Shit."
"Jack! You're dead if you stay out there! You need to come back!" her friend from the Junction ordered.
"Can those generators last out the storm?"
"What-"
"Can they last, Siv!" Jack hollered urgently.
"W-we can hold off till daylight. But Noam says this storm could be for maybe a day or two. The generators won't last that long!"
"It doesn't matter if you go back," Crane pointed. "Nobody is gonna last the first night."
"Siv, is there no other way to get the power back on?" Jack persuaded.
"How I'm supposed to know?! I know nothing about geomagnetic storms!" Siv explained, losing the remaining bits of her coolness. "...But-"
Hesitation. And there was a bit of something else trailed after it. A bit of a pipedream Jack was willing to latch on with her teeth. "Give me anything, Siv. Could be our only option."
"The hydrodam. I-It's the city's second main power source. M-Maybe we can use that!"
"Then that's what we'll do-"
"No! Jack! Alexander's men took over that place a month ago. To get leverage over the city."
"But of course, he would do that." A thorn in Jack's side, even when she wasn't near that man. "Taking a dam from a bunch of armed cronies in the middle of a power-out with hordes of infected out for dinner. Yeah. Impractical."
"Jack! You can't be serious! That place is swarming with armed men. We couldn't get back the dam from them!" Siv stated the obvious.
"I said, impractical. I didn't say 'impossible'."
"Do you even know how to turn on a dam?!"
"No. But I'll work something out."
"That's suicide! Forgot about it. You and your friend need to get to safety right now!"
The wails of the damned grew louder with every passing second. To fight against the horde all the way to the dam? Then prisoners to reclaim it back? At night? Yes, suicidal.
There wasn't a quick remedy to the problem. Something to alleviate. Best solution was to hold out the night until the sun came and prevail for as long as the backup generators could hold.
Wait it out.
That couldn't be the only option, Jack thought with frustration.
"We can do it."
Jack had been pacing about with clouded thoughts; the vocal sentence took her by surprise. Dead in her tracks, she spun around too fast on her feet. But Freakazoid stood before her with a confidence that she hadn't seen before. Or did he hide it all this time from her?
And it wasn't out of chivalry or for a cause. It wasn't impulsive—more like something out of a loyal soldier who would jump on a grenade to save lives. A duty to perform. An act to make. Because if he didn't do it, no one would.
Jack pulled the comms from her ear, too stunned to hear the girl's hollering her name. The face said it all—she couldn't comprehend the confident tone in Freakazoid.
All this time, he was a freak who complained. Too much. Now he has made a 1-80.
"What...Who-" Jack was almost lost for words.
But Crane didn't back away.
"That kid. She said the dam's your only chance for this city to have power back on. What do you have to lose?"
Jack digested that fact, probing her to point at another problem he was dismissing. "She also said that place's swarming with men. More if we're counting the horde."
"So? We've handled them fine before. Because I'm not doing it alone," Crane pointed. "I've been putting my life in your hands since the start. Trust me on this one."
How peculiar. And this time, Jack didn't mean it as a joke in her head. As difficult as it could be to get a read in the Hunter's eyes, there was a spark she didn't think could exist. Something that a person shouldn't lap onto so quickly like pure water in the desert.
That was risky to have. It was that fragment of hope that could get people killed if one leapt onto it blindly. A tug Freakazoid was willing to go for—this wasn't his first time he bet on it to the end.
Someone had this gaze on her once. A long time ago.
Jack crackled. Loud enough that her worries about the blackout, about surviving, had dispersed in a single go.
"We've got nothing to lose." Her finger reached for her earpiece. "Siv. Tell Mahir to double down on the Junction. Keep those generators going for as long as possible... We're getting power back."
"Jack. Wait-"
"Sorry, princess. No time to wait."
Seconds pass when waiting. Lives could go out like a light in those seconds. Conversely, the blackout reminded Jack of the ship incident. But the crisis was scaled up to a whole city, staged differently. The risks were higher. The rewards even higher. Necessary.
But Jack wouldn't say no.
"Ready?"
Jack grinned her widest.
"Let's steal us a dam."
The night was at its darkest point in the history of Scanderoon.
Below, the streets of Scanderoon had turned into dens of lions—horrors jumping onto poor souls forced out of UV-dimmed-out buildings. Up top, the Volatiles and the Runners were eagerly swooshing, diving down on fleeing humans trapped on the balconies. Screams of the damned and the weak mixed in the darkness.
Hope for morning to come was meek, fading… No one would come to the rescue.
The small boat, Caroline, sped through the black canals and water-lodged roads. It was the fastest it could go, full-throttle through the darkness like a spear. The headlight could only shine the way across murky, raging water but beyond that was nothing but pitch-black.
"I can't see a bloody thing!" Jack cursed. She wasn't sure if she could crash into a wall or something. Or that big sea monster she collided into on the first day!
Crane, however, could see everything. He was right at the bow, watching everything unfold before him. A street with someone crying for help. A house with a family cuddled together. There were one, two, three things he saw on the riverbanks that made him want to leap and swim to shore. The loudest thoughts in his head were to "go save those people!" while the softest voice of his other self murmured at him to join their brethren. Join the hunt.
He literally had to tighten his claws on the rims just to stop himself from abandoning their mission.
Having zombie vision sucked. Big time. But he had to stay.
"Go left!" he hollered. He was Jack's eyes. "Ocean's ahead!"
The ex-kickboxer did as she was told—the blind led by the infected. "Have a plan? It won't be easy reaching the control room."
"I just thought," he said, hesitation at one precise moment in his thought-speech. Jack already didn't like it. "Get in and turn it on."
"The direct approach. I like it." She received a grumble from her partner. "You do know it'd be if that place actually works after months without maintenance."
"I'm giving options here! I don't need the pessimism."
"Pessimism? Wouldn't dream of it." That cracked her up.
"There! I see a dock area."
"And a looot of friends." Jack didn't need Freakazoid's eyesight to notice the many blood-red stars dotting afar and the forms becoming full shadows from the beacons of white light. The prisoners' outpost in the distance.
And she could hear the gunshots too.
"Looks like they're biting off more than they can chew."
"Good. Means we can use the mob to our advantage."
"Oh sure. Get ourselves killed while we're at it." But he calmed himself. But this was something he had done many times in Harran. "You hurry inside."
"Ha!" she chided, steering the boat closer to the banks. "And leave you to all that fun? You're not taking that from me."
He sighed. But he didn't stop her. "Suit yourself."
The boat hadn't touched the dock before the anchor got tossed around the knot. Already, the duo leapt out, weapon and claw ready. On land, it was a similar story to that at the cargo ship. The tearing into the UV-lit and barred perimeter, inventory in a mess, spent bullets, and fallen bodies told a tale of what happened within the first seconds of the blackout.
The events still rolled on when the two arrived. Back-up generators kept the place lit for as long as there was gas. But that didn't mean Alexander's men could catch their breath at the swarm breaking in.
"Keep them out!" one jailbird ordered, looking like the packleader in charge. "We have to hold until dawn!"
"Are you kidding me?! Do we even have enough gas?!"
"The left side's caving in!" another convict yelled, pointing at the problem. "Volatile got in, and six people are dead!"
"Just shoot them! We don't have to worry about the noise!"
"Screw this. This is not worth my life."
"And where would you go?!"
"Anywhere but here!"
"Hey," one cowering prisoner whispered under the chaos. A quivering finger barely hung in the air.
"Then go ahead. You can be food for the infected. Buys us more time!"
"Do you want a bullet in your head, man? Because I can make you into bait instead!"
"HEY!"
"What?!" The packleader shoved away the barrel in his face as the small crowd turned to the one person pointing a finger to the distance.
At what? It was hard to see in the rain.
A flash of red came under the spotlights. One second, he wondered—was that a human in the horde? The next, what was a woman doing here? The third, she had balls to be running with the infected around her-
Wait! Why was there even a person out here?!
"S-Shoot her!"
"Garh!"
Suddenly, the guy who wanted to shoot him went down fast. Something had broken through. How? When? Before his very eyes, the thing darted to the next gunner. Blood streamed from a gash.
What? When?
Thud!
He spotted the woman in red vaulting over the broken wire fence. With the lightning brightening the sky, her form was lit up for him to see. He could have pointed the gun at her.
All the packleader could see was the flash of the woman's grin and the rise of her weapon held high. Batter up.
But he never felt the hit. He didn't pull the trigger. He felt the bone blade stab instead, from behind.
KHUD!
Off flew a walker's head instead, cleaned right off its neck by Jack's good pitch. She kept to the pace after a few jumps and away from the gripping arms. A few times, she was amazed—Freakazoid being damn fast, his kill count was higher than hers.
She liked it. Not gonna be outclassed, however!
"Perfect!" Crane grumbled once he reached the dam's doors. "More company inside."
"Sounds like a party," Jack chuckled as she joined him at the main doors, gesturing a hand. "Shall we?"
"Ladies first." Because Crane truly believed Jack wouldn't listen if he said he'd go first.
There was a crackling laugh out of her toothy grin.
THUD!
The doors burst open with a good kick, but other noises covered it up. Inside wasn't any safer than the outside. Guns and horrified eyes wheeled towards them, the wielders forgetting they had blood-red-eyed infected jumping onto them. It was a mess indoors, and more of it was rushing after the two surprise visitors.
"We need to find the control room," Crane hollered.
"Just follow the prisoners to where they're guarding the room," she droned, running ahead.
"Actually...not a bad idea." Why didn't he think that?
Going to the control room was a problem. The hydrodam was a slaughterhouse, mostly one-sided, as the infected dove onto the loud, happy-trigger prisoners. The only way was to take to the high ground. By grappling hook and tendrils respectively.
Crane scanned the areas, almost taking the lead. Some places had already fallen to the infected—maybe even before the dam had been seized. The number of the prisoners was fewer the deeper they vaulted across platforms, catwalks and generation turbines. That same number got even lower when the crooks decided to aim for Jack or Freakazoid.
"There!" Crane pointed at what looked like the exterior. "That has to be the place!"
"Uh. Freakazoid."
Jack pointed down to the lower levels.
"Oh, c'mon."
Now there were Volatiles. Then again, the dam has become a giant, loud honey trap for them to come out of their nooks and crannies. And with hisses and snarls, they found that the Day Hunter was right in their new territory.
Get out, they howled and began making their way up.
"Hey. Have you dealt with Volatiles before?"
"Uh...a few. Barely at the skin of my teeth."
"Then here's hoping that body of yours' better equipped now than before." Jack readied up her weapon.
Like they had any other choice! But Crane readied himself too.
"SRAAAGH!"
Under the flashing lights, a Special stood his ground on top of a turbine. How the - no, better question was: why was Crybaby here?!
"Brilliant," Jack hollered, catching the Weeping Man's attention. "When we don't want you to come, now you come."
He snarled at her and lunged. Good! Come at her! She wanted payback from that stunt he pulled in the Cold-War tunnels-
Jack expected him to fly at her and a good pitch of the weapon would do it. Right at the skull. But he ducked his head just as she swung.
What?
She felt an arm around her abdomen, then backwards.
"Hey!"
Crane quickly noticed the takedown and bolted after Jack. A split-second terror fueled him to go faster, only to realize that instead of biting on Jack's neck, Ercan held her up and climbed over the railings.
"Jack!"
She and her abductor went down to the lower level. Crane jumped over too, his landing as gracefully padded as a cat's feet. Ercan had his attention on his captive—Jack had halfway freed herself, only to have the monster grab her by the shoulders like a screaming child being disciplined.
Kyle hurried to help. Out of the blues, Ercan wheeled to him, as if he had already noticed the Day Hunter coming from behind. The Weeping Man attacked, with a deadly swing of a claw.
"Shit!"
It scared the bejesus out of Crane. He sidestepped and braced himself. But nothing came at him except for the faint blur of Ercan's silhouette.
Another trick of the eyes! It actually deceived the nearby Biters too.
"Let. Me. Go!"
Pow!
Right into the solar plexus. Jack finally put some distance away from the Weeping Man—the bald man staggered back from the sharp pain in his chest.
"We don't have time for you!"
"No!" Crybaby got back up, more determined than ever.
Know when to quit! Jack stepped back several more but already, the Special was right up to her face. As fast as Freakazoid!
Dodge! Keep on your toes! She did so, pacing her vigor while avoiding her opponent.
This would be better if she could tag out. But she could see that despite Beastly's attempt to jump in as her shield, more guests came to the party.
Seriously, four Volatiles against a Day Hunter, working together to take him out so that they could come after Jack.
"Safety!" the Weeping Man wailed with such an inhuman, distorted voice. He literally lashed out at her. What was his problem?!
A wall behind her—she dodged the attack. Faint sparks flew from hardened claws tearing into metal.
"I have to take you somewhere safe!"
Safe or in the derange infected' stomach?
"Ercan!" Freakazoid called out, joining back into the one-sided confrontation. A tendril out one hand roped Ercan by the shoulders like that of a cowboy taming a mad horse. "Stop! You're not yourself!"
Ercan barely listened. The name didn't register—he just didn't care. Pulled at the tendril with all his might.
Holy shit! It was like dealing with a bull!
And that bull turned around to give Crane the horns. The movement was all too familiar to him, using his own tendrils to turn the tables around and toss Kyle away.
"Ercan! Just stop!" Kyle sprinted forward as he loosened the tension in his tendril before Ercan could throw him off.
One strike! That was all he needed. Jack also had the same idea as well. But with a different reason compared to Freakazoid's. She was doing it out of her own perseverance.
Kyle's was out of resolve. He had to end Ercan's misery.
"ENOUGH!"
"Uargh!" Crane yelled at the sudden shove out of nowhere. Did two more Ercan fly right at him? Whatever happened, it gave the real Ercan a chance to bulldoze a trained professional like him down. Nearly across the floor!
"Freakazoid!" A Day Hunter against another Day Hunter, and yet unbelievable to see one side winning. But what could Jack do? She couldn't jump into the turnabout fight while she was busy protecting herself from the Volatiles, swinging the bat to scare them off.
Then Crybaby turned his sights back on her.
"I am trying to save you!" the talking infected hollered. At the backing ex-kickboxer.
Crybaby stopped being the whimpering coward Jack saw after he shoved one Volatile away; a bigger bully.
Jack felt the fear creep on her. It wasn't getting anywhere. The longer they fought, the more the city would fall. Now she had to step it up. One cut into her hand and she smeared her blood onto her weapon.
A second dose could bring out unpredictable outcomes. Maybe she'd get a second Freakazoid. Maybe Crybaby would really drop dead. Or he could come out more ballistic. Whatever.
But she had to get to the control room now!
Jack pitched her weapon. The Weeping Man was faster—the brunette glanced with wide eyes at him instantly grabbing her wrist before her swing could connect to his head. Off her feet, she found herself immediately disarmed. The towering infected tossed it away and closed in on Jack.
Talk about persistence! When did this come from? Jack couldn't help but feel that tint of fear swell up. A saving grace came to her in the form of Crybaby suddenly letting her go and stomping after her as she backed away.
"I am not a coward anymore!"
A weapon. She needed a weapon! But like an animal backed into a corner from a bigger predator, that was all she could do. Louder and louder, Crybaby grew.
"I can keep you safe! I can save my family! I saved her!"
Jack scowled. Fingers curled into a fist.
Who exactly did he see Jack as? The girl named Kadri? Was that what he saw Esme as?
"I took them down! I am not afraid anymore!"
"Jack!" Crane hollered, up on his feet as fast as he could go. Charge through the remaining Volatiles as strong as he could fight.
"I don't need any bloody saving!"
Thud!
"Ugh!"
An animal back into a corner would show its fangs and claws. Jack retaliated, first a headbutt. SMASH! Then the fists came up. Crybaby didn't think the person he came to save would attack with 3rd stage Mad Jack!
She was done. Pissed beyond belief!
"You don't get to pick lives because you're high and mighty!"
Pow!
"What about Lina's father?! Esme's whole family?!"
Pow!
"They weren't bandits!"
Pow!
He slaughtered them. Don't try to dress it up. Don't pretend that making their bodies be at peace would make it all better.
Ercan tried to flee. To get away from the violent woman. But he couldn't comprehend why he couldn't—Jack's grip on his torn collar. Another tighter pull so that the brunette could direct his eyes on her. Her alone!
Don't you dare look away!
"You took them away from those kids! You made them alone! And you ran away!"
Pow!
She was furious.
Crybaby tried to turn a blind eye and act as Jack's savior!
Lina would never see her father again. Esme wouldn't recover from the bloodbath. How many more kids did the Weeping Man leave them parentless in the outbreak?
It was unforgivable.
She reeled back the final blow.
"OWE UP TO YOUR SODDING MISTAKES!"
POW!
That sent the Weeping Man tumbling to the floor. No way for him to stop himself once he was down for the count. And he stayed down, his ribcage inflating and deflating rapidly. A Volatile wouldn't get up after such a performance like that either.
Crane felt that raw power. It actually hit him to the core. Note to self, never get on her bad side. She literally lived to her title as 'Mad Jack'.
But as tremendously all-out as she did, she suffered from the aftereffects. Being so reckless that she needed a minute to catch her breath. As she kept herself steady, her hand dug into her sling bag.
Something dropped from her.
"Quickly!" Jack gasped. Desperately reaching for that 'something' rolling across the floor. Literally pointing it for Freakazoid to see. "Get the sample."
The syringe was closest to Kyle's feet. Might as well take it now that Ercan was present and unconscious. With a tendril shot, the injector swooshed right into his hand. It wasn't the type that would break under his own strength. It was durable—enough to pierce through an elephant's hide. Which meant a Special's like his.
Ercan didn't climb back up. He didn't even resist Crane as he stuck the needle to one of the pulsating dark veins on pale skin. Dark red filled the inside to the brim.
"I got it!"
It was solid. It was real in Kyle's claws. Not a dead-end lead. It was something.
He couldn't help but let out a chuckle. What a journey just to get one vial of infected blood!
Jack hastened into a rocky jump to take the sample from him. Midway out of her knapsack, she fumbled with was the opened kit of capped hypodermic syringes. Along with that, she pulled out a blue pack, enough to fit in her hand. One squeeze and crackling sounds crumpled from inside the pack. An endothermic reaction.
"This will keep it cool until I can get it back to the Outskirts," she panted while she carefully wrapped the vial up and put it away. Safe and sound.
Crane wanted to ask: how was she going to send it to that place? But priorities now, questions later.
First was Ercan-
"The dam."
Crane halted from putting his claws on the unconscious Special's head. The fight nearly made him forget about the urgency of the bigger situation. Right. The dam! The whole city! They weren't even out of the woods yet!
Jack already took a head start up the stairs, even with fatigue. Like she was possessed. She was too spent to go vaulting her way to the control room so she took the normal way.
"We need to turn the dam on."
Right. The dam. Crane almost followed.
On the spot, he was torn. He looked back to Ercan. out cold from the berserk mode Jack threw at him. Crane had the opportunity handed over to him.
He could end it. Right now. Ercan didn't have to continue the nightmare anymore. He could stop being the Weeping Man, the orphans' boogeyman. Go out peacefully and see his family again up yonder.
His mind went back to Jack. The crazy woman in red beat Ercan down and climbed up with the whole place being rushed in by Biters and Volatiles.
It was a bitter decision that only took three seconds and a regretful sigh to make. Kyle left Ercan alone and zipped his way towards the control room.
Jack had already reached for the door by then. To Crane's relief, she looked like she had recovered along the way. Three orange silhouettes took their positions inside the control room, hands held up in poses of holding guns.
"Don't come in! W-We'll shoot!"
"They've locked the door," Jack exclaimed as she pulled at the door.
"Move."
She quickly stepped back.
KLUNK!
Before her eyes, a very secured door was bashed down with one kick. By a mutant. Truly admirably scary was his strength. Or was it sheer impatience driving it?
She couldn't complain. Time would have been wasted if she went lockpicking with her bobby pins from her hair.
Three men in prison jumpsuits hugged far in the control room. For a second, they freaked out at their interruption. But the number was in their favor.
"Alright," Jack started. "Alexander had you guarding this place for months. I'm sure one of you knows which button to press here."
One prisoner bolted rather than answering her question. Another aimed the gun higher.
"Gah!"
"AAAH!"
It was a nice attempt. A brave attempt. The coward's legs caved down by a whack of Jack's melee while the gunner was lassoed up by Freakazoid with a fling of his right arm.
"Let's try that again." Jack kicked the coward over lightly. "Anyone of you know how to turn it on?"
It was a yes or no. If no, then she'd have to get Noam on the comms and work her through the controls-
"He knows! He was a mechanic in this place!"
Hm. That was easy, a little sad to see the third man being ratted out—the face on his face twisted at the betrayal. He almost skidded for an escape.
The tendrils came out of nowhere. No. Out of the other arm. Struggle as much as he could, it was pointless. The mechanic could only watch him be brought face-to-face with the hooded man.
Right there, he realized it wasn't a man.
"Turn. The generator. On."
The hoarse-sounding threat brought out a soft shriek. But the beast kept him in check. No running away until he did his job.
"O-Ok!"
The snake-like appendage loosened, but the silver-blue eyes stayed fixed for any sudden movement. The mechanic patted his hands back, desperately feeling for the dashboard. For a second, Crane almost believed a crook didn't know how to operate. He was lying out of his ass. With all the buttons, knobs, and dials looking so complicated, the prisoner fiddled with just three and then turned the control gate valve on.
Nothing seemed to tell Kyle things were working. There was another anxious thought: Jack could have been right with the condition of the dam being too broken to switch on. Then the monitor said something, 'gates opening', followed by the low rumbling of metal outside the control room.
ROOOOOOOOOOOOOMFF!
And the generator roared aloud. Alive. Following its bellow came light.
The hydrodam lit up like a Christmas tree. White, red, yellow, and green—all sorts of big and small electric lights blinked on. And to Jack, it almost gave a sense of familiarity and amazement, like the lights turned on around the boxing ring.
"Hey," Jack called over the comms. "Anyone can see the power turning on?"
"Jack!" cried Siv. "Yes! Yes! Power's coming back!"
There was nothing for her to tell other than Siv's words. Windows were still too dark to peer out, but there was a glimpse from afar. Meanwhile, the lower levels stirred. Thanks to the sudden bright flashes, the leftover stragglers hightailed into whatever shadows was left, and danger died down from the inside, slowly spreading outside.
The three convicts were still petrified. Their minds raced with the question of what was in the control room with them. For the mechanic still hogtied by the monster, he wondered: when could he be let go?
He was nothing but an accessory to a manslaughter charge. He took the fall before the outbreak happened. He followed the other prisoners to their new cause, just to live. Without question. Now, working for Alexander wasn't worth anything anymore.
He wanted to go! Live another day!
His heart skyrocketed into his throat when he saw the woman in red sprint off somewhere. Wait! Don't leave them with this monster! But his voice stayed inside. He almost felt the grip loosen.
His pleading expression darted to his cellmates. One of you bastards! Get a weapon and hit him!
Then all of a sudden, the silver-blue eyes glared down at him, ushering out a pathetic excuse of a cry.
"This place is ours now," the hooded man told them. "I better not see any of you here again."
An added snarl for good measure. It didn't matter if the secret was out. They would be dead before they could reach the mainland.
"Understand?"
The convict nodded aggressively. Again and again even after he was freed.
"Good. Now run."
The prisoner fell on his knees and scrambled back up into a bawling dash. Get as far away from these crazy people!
The monster wheeled to the other two convicts. Just like the first, they tailed out of the control room.
With that out of the way, Crane almost took a starting run out as well, his aim to the railings and looking down. Searching the lower floors for one particular person.
But Ercan had already vanished.
No. Now wasn't the time. Crane darted after Jack's heels. Up towards the catwalk, out the hatch, and out onto the roof. He wanted to know as much as she did, so together they glanced pleadingly at the dark horizon.
It had already changed, but they witnessed the last half of the city's artificial stars blinking into existence. Like blood pumping through the body, white dots snaked throughout the darkness, one district at a time. The sight of life coming back slowly stretched out a smile on the Freakazoid's monstrous face.
Jack heaved a great, deep sigh of relief once she spotted the Junction, brighter than ever before. "Thank goodness…"
Electricity was back in the hands of man. And the UV lamps waned off the monsters back to their holes.
A loud, hysterical laugh crackled over the radio, with the sound of patting and cheers in the background. "Jack! You did it! You saved the whole city!"
A fine night to be truly alive.
"Shy Guy did the saving. I just tagged along."
"Whatever! You both did it! Ahaha…! Oh, I thought we were dead for sure."
"You and me both."
Me too. But Crane's lips stayed zipped.
"You can send some folks over here at dawn. Alexander's men left us a nice safe zone for us to keep."
"Roger that. Afterwards, we'll hold a damn celebration when you get back!"
"Aha. Yeah. That's not needed-"
"Needed?! We're alive, thanks to you! We're having that party! Ahahaha!"
Jack didn't share the enthusiasm or speak other than a soft laugh. The young runner was already off the mic, too eager to cheer with the others. Bit too early, if she asked her though.
"Heh." He could help it. Crane was too in awe at Jack. "Who's the shy one here? They're giving you a parade, and you turn it down?" He added a vocal huff at his disbelief. "I can't understand you."
"If you're jealous, then you should join me."
He chuckled. Big nope. "No, thanks. But if you can smuggle me a cold drink, that'll be enough," he poked back at her throwback. Crane stared back to Scanderoon's cityscapes—too far away for his zombie sight to pick on but he had a good feeling: the survivors were safe with the power grid back online. "'Cause I really need one after that-"
He wheeled back at the sudden sound of something sliding. His anxiety crept back once he mortifyingly watched the proud fighter flop against a wall to hold herself up. But her legs gave way, and down she went.
Slow breathing. Eyes unfocused.
"Jack? H-Hey!" It took him barely seconds to hurry over to her, catching her before her bottom hit the floor. Was she hurt? "Shit. Are you ok?"
"Oh. Fine. Peachy. Light-headed, that's all," she gasped between breaths, gesturing a hand out to show 'oh, it was nothing'. "...Used a bit too much back there."
It didn't sound fine to him. Didn't even have Jack's usual flare. A bit of panic drove him to check her bandaged hand—the very same hand he dug in earlier. Then for other injuries. Nothing. Did she need a blood transfusion?
Shit. What a dipshit he was. Jack wasn't on the same par as he was with his new body; she was still human. She still had the same limitations as he did as a human, only with one poisonous perk and a vicious bite. As crazy as the brunette was to follow after him and keep up with him this whole time, a human could only get so far.
Crane had forgotten his own strength and speed, letting the adrenaline and circumstances get to his head. Too sold on Jack's confidence, she would be right behind him all the way.
"We should get you some first aid-"
"I'm fine," she droned exasperatedly. "It's just a little blood loss."
"Right. Who was the one who told me not to overdo it?" he asked. "You gotta stop talking out of your ass, Jack."
"So?" She chuckled louder than she would usually do. Almost like trying to shrug something off. "Bullshitting yourself never killed anyone." Her gaze gradually became aimless, not on Freakazoid but on looking back at her surroundings. "Hey. Why did the power shut down?"
Now, Crane was scared.
"Don't you remember? That lightning took it out."
"Oh… It did?" Doubt in her voice. Like she was struggling to recall.
"Are you really ok?" Crane pushed again. Something wasn't right.
"Right! Right. Light-headed." That came out more of an excuse to him but she rose back onto her legs, giving back that cheeky smile. "I just need five. It'll go away."
What would go away? He eyed her long and hard. Moreover, it was a nagging feeling in the back of his head. All thanks to past experiences.
He couldn't let her be alone.
"Go ahead. You should go to check everything downstairs... Make sure nothing's broken. I'll catch up-"
"Yeah. I'm not leaving you here-"
"I'm not going anywhere either," she confided in him to let her. Back with the usual tone, to make people dance to it. Her pace was slow, but she managed to climb back up on her feet, silently declining Freakazoid's help. "Five minutes. I'll be right down."
Crane didn't let go of her arm. Let go of his worries. His instincts had always been the better judgment at times, and for some reason, they spoke more to him now than ever before. Yet the shrewd grin on her tired face told him to ignore his reasoning.
Jack looked fine like always. Just as she said she was. His infected senses could read the pace of her heartbeat. A little creepy to him and he wasn't going to admit that to her—that an infected could easily detect how weak their prey was. Mad Jack was alright, however.
He still had that gnawing fear. That if he would turn around just for a second, she would be gone.
Like Rahim.
"...Alright." He unhinged his claw off the smirking lady in red. "Five minutes."
Jack nodded happily-tiredly, giving Freakazoid a pat on the back as he left. A job well done for the both of them. Yeah. A job well done…
Crane gave her one more look. She leaned back with a few deep breaths. The same breathing technique as before. Nothing out of the ordinary, so he ducked back down the hatch.
Freakazoid was gone.
But the headache was still around.
Jack really went all out on the Weeping Man. And she had taken some blows from stragglers, jailbirds, and mercenaries.
And that headbutt to the skull made it worse.
Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out. 1, 2, 3. Breathe in. 1, 2, 3. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe!
Jack was almost losing count. She tried to fight the shaking as she dug out her medicine bottle. Two reds popped right out, but before she took them, she checked the contents.
A third of the bottle left.
Relax. Relax! She could do this. This wasn't a feat she couldn't beat. All she needed to do was stabilize herself. Stay calm. And take her meds.
Bones had told her many times not to aggravate herself. Her doctor, nurses, and physician said the same thing. The same warning over and over again: don't overdo it. It would make it difficult for her. Make her want the pill addictively. Then she would run out and be in a predicament.
In the middle of a zombie outbreak, with the world burning around, finding more of this drug would be the hardest task for her to do.
She had to keep track of her intake. Control the dosage. Be more careful from now on.
Jack swallowed the two pills and, in a fit, punched a fist at the wall—her frustration in dealing with the headache this long. She counted down the seconds. Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4.
Breathe, Jackie. You can do it. Get your head back into the game!
Get yourself back into the game just a bit longer...
Five minutes were up.
The spasms had subsided, and the headache lightened. True to Jack's word, she returned downstairs to where Freakazoid waited patiently.
Then the decision came out of nowhere. Jack should get some rest until the sun was up.
She wanted to object. But her body did the objection to her first before she could say anything to Freakazoid. Plus, if she did, she would be eating her own words from earlier - when the Beastly was taking it slow with his strange infected body.
So the plan was made. Freakazoid became the night watch for the hydrodam while she took to the office to sleep. The place might have been damaged and exposed by the outbreak, nature and blackout in that order, but it was built into a Safe Zone, thanks to Alexander's men. All Freakazoid had to do was keep one eye open on any walker getting to the turbines or the control room until tomorrow's sun.
The night had taken a toll on Jack, and she felt it. She particularly landed on a nice, comfy sofa without any resistance. She was knocked out—her mind spent and it needed to recharge. Took less than a few seconds for her to doze off.
Just a few hours. Then she would be right back on her feet. Right as rain.
There was no one to disturb her. She didn't have any appointments. There shouldn't be anything important on that day. Nothing.
Just peace and quiet…
…
Ding-Dong!
She groaned. Go away.
Ding-Dong!
Just wait it out. If she pretended she wasn't in, then the person would leave her be.
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
Whoever was at the door apparently wanted their finger snapped like a twig. And the tapping at the doorbell was irritating! It was on purpose! The pillow Jack squeezed over her ears didn't help deafen it!
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
That's it!
With a flare of her nostrils, Jack immediately rose up from her sofa and marched to the door. The quicker she could get rid of her visitor, the sooner she could catch her forty winks.
She opened it to see that cheeky grin of his turn upside-down.
"Wow. You look terrible, Jackie."
She sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes.
"What do you want, Rahim?"
"What?" he scoffed. Acting all offended. "Do I need a reason to visit my favorite kickboxer in the world?"
"You have your sister."
"Pft. You can't brag about family. But the stories of a legend? Up close and personal? Now that's something I can't pass on."
This boy… She underestimated the silver tongue in him. Not experienced, but enough to be a pain to Jack herself.
Jack simply crossed her arms as she leaned against the entryway. Fine. Let's see him try to show that bad card of his. When it was so obvious.
"Alright. You can come in. But it's rather rude to be wearing a hat indoors."
Rahim flashed his green eyes wide. A moment of 'oh shit'. Then a moment of deception. "What you got against beanies? It's in fashion now."
"Really? This time of year?" she poked. Because it was the bloody monsoon season.
"Yeah." He shook his head in a dramatic kind of way. "You need to get yourself out of the stone age and update your wardrobe."
"Are you implying I'm 'old', runt? Because it sounds like that."
Shit. Big mistake. Even if the kickboxer champion was at her calmest, there was the seeping venomous spite coming from her aura. Here was where Rahim had to stop, or else he would become her chew toy.
But he kept going.
"What? Nooo. You're…hip," was the best word he could come up with. "Sure, you're bad with tech-"
"Hm," was all the Wild Dog could say behind clenched teeth. She couldn't deny that.
"But you're way cooler than most people. Even if you were in your eighties, they'd tell everyone. "She still got it"."
He smiled, looking as innocent and hopeful as possible.
Was that enough sugar coating? But the fortress wall before him didn't budge. Boy, tough as a punching bag. Like Jade.
Before meeting Jack, there were only two people in his life he couldn't get away with. That number went up by one. But if he had to pick, it was the professional kickboxer over dealing with his mom or sister.
He reluctantly took off the beanie. The reaction out of the brunette was expected, surprised at the glaring thing on his brow. The look of concern, though, wasn't what he anticipated.
"Christ. What happened to you?"
"Nothing." He shoved Jack's hand away from the new cut across his eyebrow. "I just slipped."
"Slipped how?"
Uh-oh. "Down...by the highway. Was hanging out with my friends and didn't look where I was going."
Which was all true.
"Just like that."
"Yeah."
"Which got you stitches."
"Nasty curve. What can you do when you're in the Slums."
Yet the Wild Dog steered closer to his face. A wolf that neared her terrified cotton-tailed prey had trapped himself in a corner.
"You looked at me straight in the eye."
Rahim took a second to look baffled. "So?"
"How often do you do that to Jade?"
"Uh, I don't know… Maybe?"
Jack scoffed lightly. "A man only looks at a woman in the eye to make an effort to lie to her."
Oh. Uhhh...now what should he do? Keep staring her down even more? He was lying, and he knew that. But the more he dug into the hole, the faster Jack would bury him.
"So you're saying I'm a man," he quickly tried to reassess the conversation.
"Cute." It was short-lived. His lovely charms didn't work on the strong-willed brawler. "The truth."
Rahim held back. Ready to counter. But he yielded. No way he could win against someone like Jack.
"...Me and my bubs were doing warm-ups. Up on the highway... Not on the ground."
A disappointing sigh out of the brunette.
"Nothing bad happened, Jack! I'm fine!" he uttered.
"Really. You need to stop talking your arse off."
"C'mon. Bullshitting yourself never killed anyone."
"Does Harris know?"
"What? Why does Coach need to know?"
"Hold it. Back up. 'Coach'?" This was new to Jack. The nickname was enough to make a pitstop rather than have a focus on the main issue in the conversation. "You only started this last month-" She stopped herself, gesturing a palm out. "The reason why Harris needs to know is that you have been doing practice runs outside his classes."
"It was one slip-up. You're making a big deal out of it."
"Have you not thought about how this could reflect on him? That a student wounds up breaking his neck?"
"Geez, Jack. I didn't die!"
"No. Jade would kill you first before that happens."
Rahim couldn't deny that. He could easily imagine Jade wringing her fingers around his throat and choking him.
"You really know how to bring me down, man."
"If it means stopping you from being an idiot, then I'm doing a fine job."
"Ok. Look. Nothing bad happened. I just screwed up the landing. Ten feet only. And look." He grinned widely, pointing boastfully at the stitches. "We got matching scars. Huh?"
Jack's frown just bored into the young lad.
"Rahim. It's the other eye. You didn't go face-to-face with a broken bottle in the middle of a pub."
The young man's eyes went wide. That's new! "Why did someone go after you with a broken bottle?!"
"I didn't start it. The bloke just couldn't take no for an answer," Jack said with a straight face. A short story left to the boy's imagination.
"What did he do? Try to hook up with you by buying drinks?"
"Have never accepted a glass in my life. I prefer an unopened cold bottle." She eyed at the stitches again before giving a sigh. "I have a few in the fridge."
Cool! She was letting him in. Rahim followed Jack in with a hop in his step, closing the door behind him. "Oh, nice!" And a bonus for him-
"It's for your forehead."
"I'm not underaged, y'know. And I'm fine! It doesn't hurt anymore."
"If it doesn't hurt, then you can run off now. You aren't here to have some shut-eye."
"What? I-"
"And telling me you're here for my autobiography isn't going to cut it. You came here to hide from your family."
That zipped his lips tight and completely. Damn! She was too sharp!
"For a day or two?" he asked, dropping his facade at looking wounded for his innocent acting. "Pretty please?"
"No."
"Wait! Wait! Please, Jack! Just this once!" He jumped in the brunette's way, hands together, in a prayer. "You don't know how bad Jade can be!"
"Now you're exaggerating."
Rahim's body language told her he wasn't. He was begging for sanctuary from the brunette. In fact, he would have fallen onto his knees and given the saddest eyes he could muster, just to sell the scheme. Rahim was the small little rabbit among the predators. And the brilliant idea was to seek shelter from one of those predators. Until he had an escape plan.
She sighed so much that it exhausted all the air out of her lungs.
"Until dinner time. I'm not helping you when this blows."
"Ok. Fair. Gives me time to think of a cover story."
Thud!
Jack's head connected to the kitchen counter in defeat as Rahim made himself comfortable and right at home in her small apartment. Jumped straight onto a comfy dining chair in the kitchen, his chest resting against the top rail.
"...I should have never let you meet Harris…" she mumbled with full regret.
How long has it been? A month with the anklebiter coming around? How much of an annoyance did Jade have...and on a daily basis! What made it worse was that it could have been avoided.
It was one afternoon when she met up with her cousin. Arriving in Harran months before to start his parkour business, only with the newly printed stack of his name card in his pocket. He didn't visit his cousin for help what-so-ever. That was how Harris was—he wanted to make his name on his own. So Jack gave him her support any way she could. Help spread the business around.
"Hey. You're promoting his craft. I just so happened to be on that street that day."
"You snatched his business card out of my hand."
Jack didn't think much of it and let the lad keep it, already gone before she could have any thought of stopping him. That following week, she got an earache from Harris over the phone. Rahim became his twelfth student.
Well. Since she had a guest in her apartment, Jack might as well make tea. She certainly needed it.
"And I helped his business get around fast. All my schoolmates have already signed up for the intermediary classes. Why didn't you tell me about Harris sooner?"
"Because we," the brunette pointed at herself and then Rahim several times. "Are just acquaintances," Jack retorted as she took out an old fancy teapot set, gifted by her dear grandmother. "We're not buddies."
"Whaaat? I'm hurt. Here I am, looking out for Harris' family here. Three weeks, and those thugs haven't shown up yet. Right?"
She placed her set and the ingredients down on the table with a loud clank. "Rahim. You really need to know how to mind your own business."
"You've lived here for how long exactly? Then you should know Harran's got its batch of bad apples. I can't look the other way when someone's in trouble."
"I told you before. I can handle it." And as gentleman-like as he tried to be, she didn't want to hear it from a scrub like him. Who was the oldest in this conversation?
"Ok. I get it. You're trying to be the strong, independent woman who needs no one in her life. But it doesn't hurt to have some help once in a while."
"Yeah. Sure, sure." Time to change the topic. "Does Jade know you're taking classes?"
"No. And she or my mom never needs to know. You know nothing as well."
"What's this? Mind games?" The whole 'waving the palms' in front of someone's face was a joke. She turned the stove on for her water-filled kettle while she prepared the tea. Two cubes for hers, five cubes for Rahim. As always. "They'll find out sooner or later."
"So? I ain't stopping. It's awesome!" he burst out with excitement, nearly shaking in his seat. "The rush is frigging amazing. I-I...I don't know how to describe it but going up high... It's incredible."
It was scary. Overwhelming. Terrifying the first time. Rahim's brain went haywire as he stared down to see the little people like ants.
"I imagine it was." Why was Jack so calm about it?! Like it was hearing him get an A on his report card, a job well-done, you got a gold star, blah blah.
"No. You don't get it! I've never felt anything like this in my life. I actually might love parkour more than I thought I would."
"Oh. I perfectly know the feeling, Rahim. More than you think."
"That's not just that."
Turning the chair around, he then brought out a badly-advertised poster Jack had seen before. Right. Harris had shown her this before. It was one of those sports companies' ideas for a parkour competition with a big prize. She saw it in Harris' face too—a good opportunity to get more students. In the next month, he could get a full class.
The problem she knew was Rahim.
"It's ten grand! Who wouldn't want that kind of dough-"
"Nope."
"H-Hey!"
She took the paper, crumpled it and tossed it into a waste bin like a bank shot at the basketball court. It actually missed the rim.
She didn't care about Rahim's glare. "You don't do parkour."
"And you're inexperienced. You'll thank me for it."
"Excuse me. I'm your cousin's shining star student."
"Hm," Jack murmured.
"Why, I might be on my way for the advanced course-"
"Rahim. It's in a month. When did you start taking Harris' classes? Three weeks ago. And I bet he said the same thing I'll say right now. 'You got a long way before you get to that level'."
Holy shit! That was on point! "Ok. Have you been spying on us?"
"I don't need to. That was exactly what Mert told me when I first started."
"It's a month's time. I'll be a pro before then, maybe on Harris' level."
"HA!" The howl insultingly hit at his pride, but Jack didn't care. "Please. You're as much a rookie to him as Jade is to me."
"Wha-" He was almost lost for words. Back came the full-blown arrogance. "Didn't I say she'd wipe the floor with you?"
"Yes. I have more confidence in her skill than you trying to win a fight with me. Or with Harris." She watched the upset boy sink into his seat with a fold of his arms. Like a child with that 'Dunce'-labeled hat at one corner of the classroom. "She's been in kickboxing for two years, yes? She's practiced for two years. That doesn't mean she's ready for the pros. Believe me, I've fought them."
That seemed to convince him. Again, Jack pushed.
"You need to stay in the game just to keep holding your title."
"Ok. You've got a point there."
"I can do one better. If you want to be the best, you keep doing your best. My cousin has years under his belt. That's a professional. One more month won't make you on the same level as him."
Jack knew that from experience. Just because one knows a good right hook doesn't mean they can take down a Goliath with one punch. She had met several Goliaths to learn that her own ways couldn't cut it. Like Met always told her, she had to adapt and sink her teeth.
But she did come off a bit hard. The young lad was already below the splat of his chair, having her words eat Rahim and spit him out at the same time.
Why did she care about this boy? He was a troublesome kid. But she didn't mean to dampen that fiery spirit in him. Having a pastime was fine, as long as he wasn't throwing his life. Rahim was an idiot—the kindest words she could pick for him—but a boy with a dream.
Maybe that was why she let him into her apartment.
"I'm not convincing you to stop parkouring. I see it in your eyes."
Rahim rose up with a curious expression.
"You got that spark..." she explained. "If you really love it like you said, then you need to commit. Don't slipshod it to make a quick buck." Then her meaningful gaze on him became stern. "Promise me you won't enter that contest. There will always be another."
Another...sure. When was that coming?
The kettle on the stove whistled. Jack left him to his own thoughts as she went to finish the tea—but it also came with anxiety inside his head. The same anxiety he had always felt sitting beside his mother's hospital bed. The same he had about his sister's upcoming tournament. They really needed the money. Jade had it in the bag.
But he couldn't help but worry. He couldn't find a way to relax his mind about it. Until he had his first day of parkour.
"It's like...I can finally breathe."
Jack finished setting up the teapot before she looked back at Rahim.
There wasn't any way he could think of describing the feeling he had. But he tried. He wanted to explain so much to someone as same-minded as him that, with his frustration so bottled up it could explode.
"Like...I'm spreading my wings and I can...forget everything for a minute. It...It makes me feel like… I'm me. Myself… I'm unstoppable."
The brunette understood, digesting every single honest word Rahim spoke. Easily relatable to her. In the ring, she was her own person. Not how the whole world viewed her. All the distractions and noises were blocked out of her mind.
Just herself.
"I don't feel useless."
The more he continued, the more he gave such a desperate, hopeful face to Jack, the more she understood all too well...
"And I thought...maybe, I could make some money out of it. I can make something out of it." Rahim glanced at the quiet Jack with a shameful gaze. "Does that...make me sound selfish?"
"No." Another surprise from the Wild Dog. "Nothing wrong with being both selfish and selfless."
His thin, apprehensive frown crept into a small smile. "I get why your cous started teaching. It's not just awesome. It's-"
"Breathtaking." The best word she used for the rushing emotion. "Like I said before. I know the feeling."
"You get it! You know that this is the right choice," he tried to convince her back on the previous topic. "I can't just sit by and watch! I can help my Jade get the money!"
Oh for the love of Christ, stop shoehorning it! Had no one in his family taught him about restraint?
"I understand enough you're trying to solve all your problems the fastest way."
Rahim frowned, but he didn't object to being called out. Not when Jack gave him the sternest look ever.
She pushed.
"It's a generous thought you're looking out for both your sister and mother. Taking that burden off Jade on those bills."
There. She was seeing his way now-
"But that isn't the way to go." His esteem shot down immediately. Dead on arrival. "Getting yourself killed won't do your family good."
"Oh, c'mon-"
"I mean it." She put her foot down. One finger jabbed forward to put him in his place. "You're bloody too smart for your own good."
He couldn't say anything but take the verbal pain in. One after the other.
"Jade shouldn't have to think about putting her brother six feet under."
Seriously, this belittlement. He wasn't a kid anymore, but everyone treated him like one. His family, the teachers, then Harris. Now Jack. However, when he would turn around and leave because he was so done with them, he couldn't do that to this woman. Even after the guilt trip.
Because she was right. As painful as it was...Jade and his mom wouldn't want that from him.
True to Jack's word, he couldn't even fight against her or even win. Not when her legend was real, her reputation strong. Thanks to years of commitment. Not arrogance or wrathful pride after nearly a month of parkour.
It was probably a good thing he visited Jack. Rahim might have decided to try his stunt again and break his neck for real.
"There are other ways, Rahim. You're a bright lad. You just need to put your mind to it."
"Yeah, right. All I'm good for is looking after our workshop and drawing."
"Draw?"
Rahim tensed up. Wait. No. She was going to laugh at him!
"Show me."
Rahim jumped in his chair, looking back and forth at the open hand and Jack's serene face. She was serious? Now he couldn't get out of it. He scratched his head sheepishly, almost ready to tell her it was nothing. Eventually, he pulled out the sketchbook—decorated with wild-looking images and letters—from his backpack.
"It's nothing, really... Just something I do to pass the time."
He waited for the harsh words. Jade thought he was doodling his time away instead of concentrating on his studies. Even his closest friends didn't know about the art side of him.
But Jack was quiet. Attentive. Turning each page with admiration for each line and palette choice. Things he sketched whatever was on the top of his mind or the inspiration from graffiti at stations and in alleyways. Right across the table, he witnessed something he had seen on TV.
Almost like she was staring into his soul through the art.
"I like this design."
She pointed at one sketch near the edge of a page. Somehow, Rahim should have expected from her that the moment he saw what it was—the design of a wolf ready to eat the viewer up.
So Jack did have some good taste.
"'Dream Wild. Die Free'. Poetic."
"Ah," he coughed nervously. "I just pulled it out of my ass."
"All of this is good." That compliment made Rahim crack a tiny smile. "Have you thought of going into art?"
Rahim scoffed at the idea. "Who makes money out of art?"
"You'd be surprised how much the graphic designers make for every GTC event ad," Jack rebuked.
Rahim's eyes widened. Wait, really?
"You know. If you put your mind into college, you can come out a brilliant artist."
"And study those fancy fine arts?" Rahim scoffed. He couldn't see himself doing that. He had enough boring lectures from high school! "No way. University's already expensive as it is. We don't have that kind of money."
Jack cast her eyes off the sketchbook, quickly realizing her mistake. Rahim tried to hide it by looking at the floorboards. No point though. She spotted the deep frown on his face.
"Sorry… I shouldn't have-"
"It's ok." Now his seat felt uncomfortable. But he tried to get back to his usual self. "My mom wants me to go too but… Her health comes first. Money doesn't grow on trees, y'know."
Silence hung in the apartment in a nasty way Rahim didn't like. The message in the air was easily readable. Life was just that cruel.
"No. Money doesn't. You earn it through effort."
"Right!" That he could agree. "And the more effort I put in, the closer I'll get to that contest prize."
Jack's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't talking about the contest. I'm talking about your art."
"College is off the table, Jack. Not until Mom gets better."
No, it wasn't on the table for Rahim. Jack could see that. Neither was it possible that one day, their mother's illness would just disappear like that. Take all their worries away.
So Jack pondered with a deep sigh into the hand as she cupped her chin.
"How about this? You teach me how to sketch like this." That got him surprised. Teach her? The next sentence got him more baffled. "50 dollars an hour. Saturday morning till noon."
50-? That's 200 bucks! Way too generous.
He eyed her. "This isn't because of my mom-"
"I'm teaching you that hard work earns money. And it takes time." Mostly so that the boy wouldn't go off on some stupid, high-risk idea. "Plus...I want to learn."
He backed away in his seat. Really? A fierce fighter wanted to learn how to draw? Rahim found that so hard to believe. And yet, he noticed something in those bright, seasoned eyes of hers.
Maybe Jack saw it in him. Having the spark, as she said.
"All I ask you to do are two things for me. One, think about going to college."
Not what he wanted to hear, out of her either. Nor could he accept it. But Jack wouldn't stop there.
"You want to provide for your family, right? Use that creative noggin' of yours."
It sounded convincing... But maybe he could get some leeway, he thought. "What's the second thing?"
"You stop calling Harris 'Coach'. Deal?"
A hand out to shake on it. He almost reached for it but hesitated...
"Just give college a thought. Ok?" she asked with a firm tone. Think long and hard.
A thought. Could he really give the future some thought?
No, he couldn't. He had to worry about the now.
His hand retreated. "I can't… Not right now."
Can't? Or won't. Jack stayed quiet.
"B-Besides it's just doodling. I won't pass the entry exam with this-"
Crack!
Rahim's eyes frayed wide at the sound behind him. He was too careless. Too fast as always. Without thinking, he took the book right out of Jack's hand so hard that it shook the table and the hot tea off the cups. That got them off their seats, Jack yelling "sordid." He felt the pull ricochet into something. Where he sat was next to a bookshelf and at the last second, he saw the thing that dropped to the floor—the broken glass of a photo frame.
That widened the frown on the brunette's face.
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit, oh shit!
"I-I, I'm so sorry, Jack!"
"It's ok. I'll clean this up."
"I'll help-" He immediately leapt for the photo frame. Save it before the spilt tea would ruin it-
"No. You stay there. I don't want you cutting yourself - ow!" Her tone was firm until a shard nicked at her hand.
"Are you ok?!"
"I'm fine." One problem after another. She quickly stopped the bleeding with a nearby kitchen towel. The pain threshold wasn't that bad, but the wound was kind of deep.
" We should get you to the hospital-"
"I'm fine. No hospitals." There was a tiny, seeping hint behind the usual tone. No means no. "Hand the picture over."
It wasn't a strong tone like how his mother would use when he was a scrumptious child. "Rahim! Stopping running in the house!" or "Rahim! You better not be doing what I think you're doing!"
But it was a firm request that the young man compelled, passing the dark-wooden photo frame to Jack. Moreover, he was responsible for the chain reaction.
He expected a huge explosion out of her. Be thrown out of Jack's house and told to never see her again. But there was a subtle change in the fierce kickboxer, a deep weighty gaze at the picture.
Rahim peeked at the photo. The body language and the smile in it spoke a million words in one go. It had a much younger Jack. Maybe four or five years ago. With her widest grin. Lassoing a strong arm gently around another woman; tall, slender and beautiful even in a denim shirt. That said Turkish woman stared back at the camera with kind, almond-shaped black eyes.
Two other men shared the space in the camera shot too—they stood out just as easily as the two women. For one, they didn't look local. One was lanky, Caucasian, with long, wavy dark hair tied up and handsomely sultry lips, dressed both slick and casual. The other, Asian, younger than all three, was by a laptop, but pale brown eyes locked back to the camera. He hid a whole different story for some reason. Rahim could spy the ends of a frog tattoo on an arm, just under the sleeve. And his posture spoke volumes about how manners didn't mean much because he'd rather enjoy the fun. He was all too relaxed, with one leg rudely up on the seat's edge, and his elbow sort of poked into the back of an old man with a beret cap in the background.
A group of oddballs, toasting together to the camera, in a brightly lit bar, Rahim recognized at the Old Town.
First thought Rahim had was: damn, Jack hadn't changed at all. Still fit as ever, and he couldn't joke either when she was a rival to the Cannon. And even the wide, huge grin she gave was enough to say that she was exactly the same back then as she was now.
"Friends of yours?" he dared to ask.
That got a soft laugh out of Jack.
"...Co-workers. From my old job."
And nothing more. No explaining, no sharing stories. But the nostalgia on Jack's face told him that
"You two look real close," Rahim pointed, hoping that it could lighten up the air even more. "Is she your girlfriend?" he droned cheekily, acting like a schoolkid poking fun at a sweetheart's crush.
"She was just my work partner."
No approval there, but definitely no denial either. Now he was curious about that old job. "What did you work in?"
"Oh, just...stuff. Travelling, locating people of interest, retrieving things."
"Sooo a mail woman?"
It was almost adorable. The lad was finding it unbelievable to picture the well-known fighter in that brown uniform and carrying around parcels.
"Oh, yes. Riveting job. Neither rain, nor snow, nor heat will stop this courier - are you shitting with me? Postal?"
The start was so convincing that Rahim almost bought his own assumption. Until the disappointed frown and hands on hips from Jack made him sink his head further into his shoulders. Like a panic-struck duck.
Ok, Jack's coworker friends didn't look like the type to be delivering mail, the more Rahim thought. The attractive-looking guy wouldn't look good in that uniform, even if he did try to rock it.
"It was just a bunch of odd jobs put together. A crew and a boss. I was doing security most of the time." Rather vague but Rahim didn't question her dodging the question with a roundabout answer. He watched her first point at the handsome man, "negotiator," then the computer guy, "analyst", and finally the woman. "And specialist."
"Sounds shady when you put it that way."
"Aren't all jobs shady with every corporate out there cutting corners? Our line of work is just...no different, I suppose. With some bonus perks."
"Like...?"
"Sightseeing, for one. Go around the world. "France. Turkey. Italy. America." For some reason, that got Rahim's eyes glimmering. "Get to see famous landmarks and beautiful trinkets up close."
"Really?" he exclaimed, so drawn in that he wanted more details.
A chuckle managed to come out of Jack. "Yes... We were the best crew… Nothing's impossible when we're together."
It was kind of cool—witnessing a famous person recall some part of their past. Sure, she didn't go into the details. But it left the giddy Rahim open to ideas so that he could fill in the holes. However, he noted the furrowed brow on her face.
She wasn't just nostalgic.
"...Then things... Our last job…"
The struggle was real. He never thought it was possible to see that out of a powerful kickboxer. The sombre face of Mad Jack did make him want to pick at the little clues. But Rahim didn't dare ask for the answers. Not when he saw her make the kind of face she did.
Something terrible really happened. Some sort of accident?
"...It was supposed to be a walk-away..."
A walk away? He didn't get the context behind that term. He wanted to ask. Again, he didn't.
Not when Jack looked like that...
But he did ask one question.
"What was her name?"
Jack's finger tightened on the photo frame. That bitterness was enough to bite through her metaphorical shield over her heart. Remember the name was enough to bring back the sting.
Although she was in complete reminiscence, she didn't react to this strange, sharp, and growing ringing in her ear.
"Her name was-"
The dream shattered at the peak of a sharp, loud sound.
BAM!
A body slumped to the concrete ground. The smell of gunpowder overwhelmed the senses. For a second, Crane couldn't recognize where he was or who had died right in front of him.
Then the second was gone, and his new surroundings 'malfunctioned' on him. They suddenly became 'familiar' to him, like he had been to that strange place before. Ancient artifacts were displayed around him, and walls were built up like a fortress.
On the battle-stricken floor was a familiar sight. A young woman with her neck broken, her eyes bloodied, and her body changed with a deathly complexion laid before him.
A ghost of his past.
"No! No!" Crane hollered. Not this memory!
But his feet ran for him. Even when the whole world was shifting—changing—he hurried over. This was a dream, wasn't it? Stop it!
Let him try and save her!
But when he reached over to her, to Jade Aldemir, the vision changed. Jade wasn't where she was anymore. Instead, the woman from the photo took her place. Crane's claws didn't appear. Slender, ungloved, smooth hands did reach out, rolling the lady over to expose a gunshot in her chest. No trace of an infection.
The redness bled through her clean white shirt. And across the cold warehouse floor...
Crane wasn't Crane in the dream. He was watching through someone else's eyes. Two memories clashed together. They overlapped like glitches in a matrix system. They didn't match, but the scenes resembled each other so similarly in comparison. Jade where the woman laid, arms splayed out. The woman in Jade's spot, dead.
He could hear Jack's voice somewhere. Or did it come from his mouth? She begged for the other woman to get up. Tears dropped as she did everything she could.
"P-Please… Little Princess, p-please!" Jack pleaded. "Get up…"
The woman wouldn't. She breathed her last breath. Her body went limp in Jack's hands. And her almond-shaped eyes turned dead cold…
"No. No, no, no, no…"
No matter how much she pleaded, her partner wouldn't get up.
"Didn't I tell you?"
Crane spun up at a stranger's voice. No. Not him. All he was in the dream was a spectator.
The reins didn't belong to him, anyway.
The place wasn't the museum. A warehouse? With the rain outside. Not the Harran sun. Dead men in yellow-marked attires didn't litter the floor—a group of properly dressed, deadly-trained men, standing alive, surrounded Crane, on guard. The kind hired to soil their hands for a high payroll.
In front of him wasn't Rais. But it was the kind of man a corrupt colonel would work with before the outbreak. The stranger particularly stood out from the goons.
The lithe-built, tanned Greek wore an expensive suit, leather loafers, a sleek jacket draped over his shoulder, and pompadour-style hair gelled back. A typical sleazebag businessman who could get away with money and power. He had all the reads: he was untouchable. Unbreakable. Everyone followed him without question. The best kind of cop could be persuaded by him to turn a blind eye, with money or force. The dirtiest politician could be easily swayed because the man had something he couldn't say no to.
He was unstoppable.
Not even Mad Jack could stop him.
Crane recognized the face. On a dossier. A mark he remembered going after once. That face appeared on the news three years ago.
In the dapper man's hand was a revolver, a costly, customized kind. Smoke seeped from the barrel. He kneeled down to her level and said with a cruel, cold smile.
"I own you, Jack."
The gun pointed right at Crane's temple.
BAM!
"Gah!"
Crane rose up and searched around with heavy breaths. But he wasn't indoors. He was outside. At the hydrodam. Even under the drizzle, sweat tinkled down his temple.
The man with the revolver wasn't squatting in front of him. The strange dead woman or Jack weren't around. Not even Rahim standing in the kitchen of that apartment.
Crane was alone on his perch, back in the present.
A/N: 17/2/2021
Hello everyone and another chapter out. It took longer not just because of CYN holiday but also because things got a bit of a turn right next door to me that it left me a bit frazzled. I'm alright now and back to writing, the next chapter also almost done. Moreover, next week on 25th Feb is the two year anniversary of my fic, something I never thought about and should have with how long this fic has gone. Because of that, I plan to make the next chapter upload on that day - and it'll be a good one with both the fun parts and the emotional parts. :D
This chapter was also something because actually this chapter and the next would have been one until I made the decision to split it up. Even move the flashback back here instead of forward. And I AM VERY HAPPY with this flashback because GOD, was my original version just terrible. Didn't flow like how I wanted it to. XD And its Rahim again. Who doesn't want more Rahim in fics. Moreover, I think it gives a strong way to the later parts between past Jack and Rahim for Crane to see.
Additionally, I had thought of making this plot up to a certain number of chps and move onto the next arc soon but with how things have gone, it probably won't look like it's ending (especially when there's still some things to wrap up). But I do see the last third of this arc coming my way after the next chp. So let's see how this arc story will go.
Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chp and look out for the next one on 25th Feb.
20/2/21 - Chapter title changed
3/6/21 - Made fixes and edits.
3/3/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments.
13/1/24 - Final fixes and changes, I hope