Chapter 6: The Village of Two Colors
The air of Mle was the first indication that something was not right.
After weeks of breathing the metallic stench and recycled air of "The Rust Pilgrim", the first breath on the landing dock was a shock to the senses. It was clean, almost sweet air, with the scent of unknown flowers and damp earth. The sky was not the oppressive red of Pyrr or the infinite black of the void; it was a soft lavender color, dotted with two small pale moons that were visible even during the day.
Kara Zor-El descended the ship's ramp, her boots making a dull thud on the polished polymer of the dock. Beside her, Ruthye Marye Knoll followed like a shadow, her wide eyes absorbing the scene with an intensity that belied her young age. The contrast with the interior of the freighter was absolute. Behind them was filth, noise, and despair. Before them stretched a plaza that looked like it was taken from a utopian dream.
The architecture was elegant and organic, buildings of a brilliant white with spiral ornaments that imitated the shapes of seashells. Small streams of crystalline water meandered through the plaza, crossed by bridges made of a material that shone like mother-of-pearl. Everything was flawless. Too flawless.
That's when they noticed the colors. The inhabitants of Mle, tall and slender humanoid beings, had skin of two distinct tones. The majority, those who strolled through the center of the plaza, who ran the open-fronted shops and who greeted with kind smiles, had skin of a cerulean blue, like the sky on Earth on a clear day. Their clothes were in shades of purple and lavender, clean and well-cut.
But on the fringes, in the shadows of the arcades, sweeping the streets with straw brooms or carrying heavy boxes, there were others. Their skin was a deep purple, like a ripe eggplant. Their clothes were a dull, worn blue. And they did not smile. They moved with a resigned stillness, their shoulders hunched, their eyes always fixed on the ground. If their gazes accidentally met those of a "blue," they would immediately look away, as if eye contact were a crime.
"This place is... strange," whispered Ruthye, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her father's sword.
"Strange isn't the word," Kara replied in a low voice, her blue eyes scanning the plaza, analyzing, cataloging. "It's orderly. Too orderly."
They approached a fruit stand run by a "blue" with a radiant smile.
"Welcome to Mle, travelers!" said the merchant, his voice melodic. "May I offer you a shalla fruit? Sweet as the first light of morning."
"Thank you," Kara said, her tone polite but direct. "We are looking for a man. An outsider. He calls himself Krem of the Yellow Hills. He travels with a band of criminals, the Outlaws."
The merchant's smile wavered for a fraction of a second, a micro-gesture that Kara did not miss. "Ah, I'm afraid I can't help you. We don't see many people of that... ilk around here. Mle is a peaceful village. We keep things that way."
As he spoke, a passing "purple" accidentally stumbled against one of the fruit baskets, spilling a few pieces onto the ground. The "purple" froze, his face a mask of absolute panic. He hurriedly knelt, picking up the fruit with trembling hands. The "blue" merchant did not yell at him. He simply stared, and his smile disappeared, replaced by a cold, hard, icy gaze. The fear emanating from the "purple" was so palpable that Kara could almost taste it.
"I understand," Kara said, her voice now a little colder. "What if I ask him?" She nodded toward the "purple," who was still on the ground.
The merchant's smile returned, but this time it was forced. "I don't think he knows anything. They are... simple people. They don't pay attention to the affairs of the world." It was a clear warning.
Kara and Ruthye walked away from the stand.
"They're lying," said Ruthye with the absolute certainty of a child. "Everyone is lying."
"Yes," Kara confirmed, her gaze fixed on a group of "blues" who were now watching them from a distance, their kind smiles replaced by looks of cold evaluation. "They are. And we need to find out why."
She realized they were not just hiding a criminal. They were protecting a secret. A secret so great and so dark that they had divided their own world into two colors to keep it safe. And they had just stumbled right into the middle of it.
*****
Mle's town hall was the embodiment of the town's philosophy: a flawless, orderly structure of a beauty so perfect it was unsettling. There was not a speck of dust on the blue marble floors, not a single withered leaf on the ornamental plants that decorated the hallways. The air was fresh and smelled clean, an artificial aroma that had nothing to do with the earth and flowers outside.
They were led to the mayor's office without much delay. The room was spacious and minimalist, dominated by a huge window that offered a panoramic view of the perfectly manicured plaza. The mayor, a middle-aged "blue" with a charismatic face and a smile that seemed rehearsed in a mirror, rose from behind his glass desk to greet them.
"Supergirl! And your young... associate!" he exclaimed, his voice a smooth, practiced baritone. "This is an unexpected honor. I am Mayor Valerius. Please, have a seat. Can I offer you anything? A shalla nectar?"
"Thank you, Mayor. We're fine," Kara replied, her tone polite but devoid of warmth. She and Ruthye sat in the uncomfortably elegant chairs facing the desk. "We'll get straight to the point. We are looking for a criminal named Krem of the Yellow Hills and his band, the Outlaws. We have reason to believe they have passed through Mle."
Valerius's smile did not waver, but his eyes hardened for a fraction of a second. "I'm afraid your information is incorrect. As you can see, Mle is a haven of peace. We have no dealings with criminals. Our community values harmony above all else."
"Harmony is sometimes used to hide secrets," said Ruthye, her voice small but firm. Kara placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"A very... insightful observation for someone so young," the mayor said, his tone now tinged with condescending paternalism. "But we have no secrets here. Only a community that works in unity."
"Including the purple-skinned ones?" Kara asked directly.
Valerius's smile finally tightened. He leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together. "Ah, the Purples. Yes. Well, they... chose a different path. They are a separatist faction, very attached to their old and tragic ways. They isolate themselves by their own choice. Any problems they have, they have brought upon themselves. We, the Blues, have tried to integrate them for generations, but they resist progress."
It was a perfect speech. Calculated. Full of a twisted logic that blamed the victim. Kara had heard variations of that same speech on dozens of worlds, including Earth. It was the rhetoric of an oppressor. Her super-hearing, though not yet at full power, caught a slight increase in the mayor's heart rate. He was lying, and he knew it.
"I understand," Kara said, standing up. "Thank you for your time, Mayor."
"Of course," Valerius said, also rising, his charismatic smile returning in full force. "I kindly suggest that you continue your journey. I'm afraid you will find nothing of interest here. And your presence, being so... noticeable, might disrupt the delicate balance we have worked so hard to maintain."
It was a threat. Polite, wrapped in a smile, but a threat nonetheless.
As they left the town hall and returned to the plaza's lavender light, Kara looked toward the poorer, more neglected district that was visible in the distance. The purple district.
"He's lying," Ruthye said beside her.
"I know," Kara responded, her gaze hardening. "And if the Blues won't talk, we'll have to ask the Purples. And something tells me they only talk after nightfall."
*****
When Mle's two pale moons rose over the horizon, casting a silvery, ghostly light over the village, the blue district fell into an orderly silence. The shop lights went out, doors closed, and the plaza was left empty, a monument to a forced peace. But in the purple district, the silence was different. It was not peaceful. It was the tense, heavy silence of fear.
They ventured into its narrow, unpaved streets. Here, the buildings were not a brilliant white, but a worn, gray stone. The windows did not glow with warm light; they were closed with wooden shutters, like eyes that refused to see. The only sound was the whistling of the wind that slipped through the alleyways, a murmur that seemed to carry the whispers of a million untold stories.
(Kara POV)
'This place stinks of fear,' Kara thought, her senses sharpened by the night air. 'It's not the sharp fear of a battle. It's an old fear. Resigned. It has seeped into the very stones.'
She walked with a deliberate calm, her body alert to every shadow. Ruthye followed her closely, her small hand gripping the back of Kara's jacket. The girl said nothing, but Kara could feel her tension, a small vibration of anxiety and determination. She was scared, but she would not back down. Kara felt a pang of admiration for her.
They tried knocking on a couple of doors. There was no response. Only a deeper silence from within. It was like trying to talk to a town of ghosts.
"They won't talk," whispered Ruthye. "They're too afraid."
"I know," Kara replied quietly. "But they are watching us. I can feel it. We just need to give them a reason to trust us."
They rounded a corner into a darker alleyway, a tunnel of stone and shadows. And that's when the trap sprung.
(Third Person)
From the shadows of the rooftops and doorways, figures emerged. There were six "blues," their faces hidden behind unadorned cloth masks. They carried no energy weapons, but heavy metal clubs instead. The mayor's thugs. Their goal was not to kill them, but to teach them a lesson. To scare them into leaving the planet.
They moved silently, surrounding them, cutting off their only escape route.
Ruthye choked back a cry and drew her sword, her small figure planted in front of Kara in an act of suicidal loyalty.
Kara placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, kid. I've got this."
Her expression was not one of fear. It was one of deep and absolute weariness. She was fed up with bullies. Fed up with secrets. Fed up with this cruel universe.
The first attacker lunged, his club whistling through the air. Kara did not move to dodge it. She simply raised a hand. The metal club impacted against her palm with a dull thud and bent in half as if it were made of clay. The attacker stared at his ruined weapon, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Kara's response was a single, fluid motion. She grabbed the man by the collar of his tunic, lifted him from the ground with insulting ease, and threw him against his companions. The impact was like a bowling ball knocking down pins. Three of them fell in a heap of limbs and confusion.
The remaining two hesitated, fear beginning to replace their confidence. They attacked together. Kara moved between them like a shadow. A precise blow to one's elbow, dislocating the joint with an audible snap. A leg sweep that sent the other one backward against the stone wall.
The fight lasted no more than ten seconds. It had not been a battle. It had been a clean-up. Kara stood in the middle of the alley, surrounded by the moaning figures of the thugs. She had not revealed her super speed or heat vision. She hadn't needed to. Her strength, even held back, was more than enough.
From a second-story window of a nearby building, a pair of ancient, purple eyes had witnessed everything. An old man, who had watched his people be oppressed for decades, had just seen a stranger dismantle the mayor's thugs with the same ease with which one brushes away flies. He saw the strength. He saw the containment. And for the first time in a long time, he felt an emotion he thought was dead: hope.
As the attackers crawled and fled into the darkness, the old man made a decision. He turned off the light of his lamp, went down the stairs, and stepped out onto the street for the first time that night.
He approached the two outsiders, his hunched figure trembling slightly, not with fear, but with a long-dormant resolve.
"You...," he began, his voice was a hoarse whisper from disuse. "...are not like the others. You seek the truth. Come with me. There is something you must see."
*****
The "purple" elder did not lead them back to the illuminated streets of the blue district. Instead, he led them along a hidden path, away from the village toward the desolate fields that stretched out under the silvery, ghostly light of Mle's two moons. The cold wind whistled through the rocks, a lonely sound that seemed to carry the laments of the earth itself. They walked in silence for what seemed like an eternity, the only sound being that of their footsteps on the dry ground and the soft clinking of Ruthye's sword against her back.
Kara did not ask questions. She simply followed the elder, her body still tense from the fight, her mind processing the conspiracy that was being unveiled. Ruthye, by her side, walked with a somber determination, her young face hardened by the night of revelations.
Finally, the elder stopped. They were in the middle of an open field, a plain covered with sparse grass and pale flowers that glowed faintly under the light of the moons. At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
"They arrived ten years ago," the elder began, his voice a hoarse whisper, heavy with the weight of a decade of forced silence. "Krem and his Outlaws. They were a plague, a storm of violence that swept the outer systems. When they arrived in Mle, they demanded a tribute: ships, supplies, half of our harvest."
He paused, his gaze lost in the field. "Mayor Valerius and the council of the Blues met with them. They negotiated. We, the Purples, thought they were negotiating for all of us. How naive we were."
He turned to look at Kara and Ruthye, and in his ancient eyes there was a pain so profound it was almost an abyss. "It wasn't the Outlaws who killed us... it was our neighbors. The Blues made a pact. In exchange for their own safety, their own village, their own peace... they handed us over. They gave the Outlaws permission to pillage our district, to take whatever they wanted, to do whatever they wanted... on the condition that they would leave the blue district in peace."
"The Outlaws took our young people, our possessions. And those who resisted... they brought them here."
He pointed to the ground at his feet. "This land is fertile. Too fertile for this climate. The flowers here grow taller, paler. They grow over the bones of my people."
Kara felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the night wind. She looked at the field, and for the first time, she saw the subtle undulation of the terrain, the shallow depressions that were not natural. She knelt, her hand brushing the earth.
Ruthye looked at Kara, confused. "What... what does he mean?"
Kara did not answer with words. She closed her eyes. She concentrated. And she looked.
Her x-ray vision penetrated the surface of the earth, passing through the layers of rock and soil. And she saw the horror.
It was not a grave. It was a labyrinth of bones. Thousands of skeletons, unceremoniously piled up, intertwined in the final postures of agony and despair. She saw the small skeletons of children next to those of their parents. She saw fractured skulls, broken ribs. The scale of the massacre was overwhelming, a silent city of the dead that lay just beneath the surface of a field of pale flowers.
The memory of Krypton hit her with the force of a physical blow. The trembling of the ground, the silent scream of a million souls vanishing. But this was different. This was worse. Krypton had been destroyed by arrogance and blindness. This... this had been a choice. An act of betrayal. The deliberate sacrifice of half a people to save the other.
She opened her eyes, a single silent tear rolling down her cheek. The cruelty of the universe, which she had tried to forget at the bottom of a glass, presented itself to her again in all its terrible clarity. Evil was not always a monster with claws and teeth. Sometimes, it had the smiling face of a mayor and the pragmatic logic of survival.
Ruthye saw the tear on Kara's face and understood. Her own mission, which had seemed so pure and so just, suddenly felt... small. Her father had been a good man, killed by a bad man. It was simple. But this... this was a web of evil, where the victims and the executioners had shared the same sun, the same land. Her black-and-white view of the world, of heroes and villains, began to crack, exposing a universe much more complicated and terrifying than she had ever imagined.
*****
(Urahara POV)
Light-years away, in a garden where the air always smelled of freshly brewed tea and the calm of a summer rain that never fell, Urahara Kisuke watched the events on Mle on a holographic monitor. The screen did not show the visceral horror of the bone field, but a flow of cold, analytical data: brainwave graphs, stress pattern analysis in the voice, a conceptual map of the village's loyalties and fears. It showed no horror or sadness. His expression was that of a scientist who has just confirmed a particularly fascinating hypothesis.
He poured himself a cup of tea, the steam rising in lazy wisps in front of the screen's light.
'Fascinating,' he thought, taking a sip. 'Utilitarian calculation in its crudest and most cowardly form. The deliberate sacrifice of a minority to ensure the perceived survival of the majority. An immoral system, yes, but with a coherent internal logic from a self-preservation perspective. Fear is a very effective catalyst for brutal logic.'
His gaze shifted to two points of light on the hologram, one bright blue (Kara) and one smaller but intense green (Ruthye).
'The external variable, the Kryptonian Anomaly, has introduced a catalyst of compassion, exposing the fragility of the system's balance. Her reaction to injustice is an instinct as fundamental as breathing. Predictable, but no less interesting to observe.'
Then, he focused on the green point of light.
'And the girl... the small variable of vengeance. She is receiving an invaluable lesson about the non-binary nature of good and evil. Her mission, which was once a straight line, has now fractured into a prism of moral grays. The trajectory of her development is... promising. Much more than I had anticipated.'
Urahara took another sip of tea, completely detached from the horror of the events. For him, it was not a tragedy. It was simply... data collection. A planetary-scale sociological experiment that was unfolding perfectly. He turned off the monitor with a wave of his hand, leaving the back room in a silent calm, only broken by the gentle glow of the stasis basket where Krypto slept.
'A system based on such a fundamental secret,' he reflected as he headed back to his porch. 'It is destined to collapse. And when it does, I will be there to watch the pieces fall.'
Omake:
Scene: Limbo Town - A Place That Shouldn't Exist
The sky was plaid. The buildings bent at impossible angles, and rivers of strawberry soda flowed from the sewers. In the town square, a group of lampposts were playing poker. This was Limbo Town, a small fiefdom of Chaos anchored to the earthly plane.
And in the middle of the square, completely unfazed by the surrounding madness, stood Urahara Kisuke. He held a small device that hummed softly as he scanned a soda fountain that was weeping tears of caramel. He wore his usual shopkeeper's smile, as if he were at a local farmer's market.
A burst of red lightning and shrill laughter announced his arrival.
"Hey! Hey! Look what the cat dragged in!" shouted a childish, piercing voice.
Klarion the Witch-Boy appeared, floating upside down in the air, with his horned hair, puritan-style suit, and a malicious grin. His cat familiar, Teekl, hissed from his shoulder, fur on end.
"A new toy in my town," Klarion said, spinning around. "And he didn't ask for permission! That's rude! Teekl says we should turn his bones into rattles."
Urahara lowered his device and began to fan himself. "My apologies, Klarion-san. I'm new to the neighborhood. I'm just doing a bit of research on the spontaneous crystallization of sucrose under extra-dimensional pressure. It's fascinating."
"Boringgg!" Klarion whined. "We don't do research here! We break things! Like you!"
With a wave of his hand, the ground beneath Urahara's feet turned into licorice quicksand. Urahara, however, did not sink. He simply took an effortless step onto the sticky surface as if it were solid ground.
'Hadō #4. Byakurai, modified for pinpoint solidification instead of piercing. Primitive, but effective,' he thought.
"An interesting party trick," Urahara commented aloud. "But the execution is a bit... sticky."
Klarion's face contorted into a childish pout. "It's not a trick! It's CHAOS! And now you're gonna be a part of it!"
He waved his arms, and the nearby buildings came to life, their windows becoming hungry eyes and their doors toothed maws. They lunged at Urahara.
Urahara sighed, the sigh of a patient teacher with a particularly slow student.
"Bakudō #61. Rikujōkōrō."
Six beams of yellow light erupted around him, not to attack, but to form a perfect cage. The monster-buildings crashed against the beams and crumbled into piles of brick and dust, their chaotic animation undone by the pure logic of the binding spell.
"Very... exuberant," Urahara said. "But lacking finesse. True chaos, my young friend, isn't simply about destroying. It's about altering the system in unexpected ways. For instance..."
Klarion, now furious, screamed and began to gather a massive, crackling ball of red energy above his head. "I'm tired of you, hat man! I'm gonna erase you!"
Urahara didn't move to counter the energy ball. His gaze shifted for a fraction of a second to Klarion's shoulder. To the cat.
"Bakudō #1. Sai."
It was a whisper. A single beam of light, no thicker than a thread, shot out. It wasn't aimed at Klarion, nor at his devastating spell. It wrapped gently around Teekl.
The cat was unharmed, but it was completely immobilized, encased in a loop of spiritual energy that conceptually separated it from its master.
The ball of chaotic energy above Klarion's head flickered. His power fluctuated violently. For an instant, his physical form turned translucent; his connection to this reality, his anchor, had been compromised. Genuine panic flashed in his eyes.
As quickly as it appeared, the binding on Teekl vanished. The cat meowed, confused.
Klarion dissipated his attack, now floating cautiously, his bravado replaced by a fearful suspicion.
"You cheated," he said, sounding like a child who had a toy taken away.
"I did not," Urahara replied kindly. "I simply identified the critical component of your system and demonstrated a vulnerability. I had no intention of harming you or your lovely familiar."
He put his fan away.
"I am here only as an observer. I have no interest in your 'playground'. So, I propose a mutual non-aggression pact," Urahara said. "I won't interfere with your... 'fun', and you won't interfere with my research. It's the most logical arrangement, don't you think?"
Klarion stared at him with a scowl, pouting. He had lost, and he knew it. Worse, he had lost to someone who had treated him like a science experiment, not a fearsome Lord of Chaos.
"Whatever," he muttered, and with a final hiss from Teekl, he vanished in another burst of red lightning.
Urahara adjusted his hat and took out his scanning device again, pointing it back at the weeping soda fountain.
'Now, where were we? Ah, yes. The relationship between fabricated emotions and sucrose resonance. Fascinating.'
A/N
Hey everyone,
I'm sorry for not posting lately. I've been really busy and a bit short on inspiration. But I've recently felt the urge to write again, so I'll be trying to post more often. I think I said I'd post one chapter per week, and I owe you three, haha.
The good news is, I've already written drafts up to chapter 11, which will conclude the Woman of Tomorrow arc. After that, the story will focus much more on Urahara. I'm not sure what to adapt next, as I have a lot of ideas from movies, series, and comics. I'd appreciate any recommendations or suggestions for plotlines you'd like to see that aren't overused. For example, I recently discovered the Mister Miracle comics and loved them, so I might do a couple of episodes with characters from that series.
Since I'm three chapters behind, I'll be posting one today (Thursday), another on Saturday, and one more on Monday. The next one after that will go back to Thursdays.
By the way, is anyone watching the Peacemaker series? I'm loving everything about it so far.
Thank you for reading my works, both my originals and my translations.
Until next time, Mike.