"*Ring*Ring*Ring*Ring*Ring"
Rays of sunlight shot in through the open window, filtered by the replica of a cotton-sewn curtain. A woman reached her scarred hand out from above the alarm clock and silenced it. She configured her attire into a professional one and attempted to style her long hair accordingly. But, her eyes were focused on a massive black board with many strings and pictures connecting and intertwining with each other, a faint sigh escaped the woman's mouth as she paused her preparation to examine the board in introspection before resuming her routine. Grabbing her briefcase, she picked up the fleshy cube placed beside her bed and exited the bedroom. The woman made her way towards the kitchen counter, opening the cabinet to reveal many luscious containers and bottles of substances. A container labeled "Life's Essence" was retrieved as the woman stopped in thought.
"churn–"
Funneling the black beans through a machine; it churned out a brown liquid that gradually dripped into a pitcher placed beneath it, releasing a delectable aroma that brought an uneasy enjoyment within the woman. Pouring the brown liquid from the pitcher into a mug, the woman took the hot beverage and relaxed her back against the sofa. Looking towards the balcony into the barely risen sun on the skyline the woman began to leisurely sip on her coffee. Placing the fleshy cube on top of the table, she retrieved a box from underneath the counter and extracted a syringe along with a complimentary bottle of Lawn; the woman injected the blue substance into its pores, the cube wriggled as its cyanatic skin recovered some of its vitality. Sensing nutrients within their flesh, it proceeded to extrapolate upon its purpose, speaking to the woman in frequencies only perceivable to her.
"You have, a message from, Vasmos K. Niemal."
The woman nodded while taking another sip of her coffee and gestured to the Speaker to continue.
"Good Morning Lesti, a day of productiveness awaits. I need you to investigate a few events that occurred recently. A researcher from The Ministry of Dawn has gone missing a couple of days ago, it hasn't been officially cataloged yet, I had my men send you the coordinates of where he last went. A potential tide rises against our fragile fortress. I look forward to your results."
The Speaker mimicked the tone and voice of the man who sent the message. Lesti placed her coffee down as the message played. A look of amusement appeared on her face, something Mr. Niemal has taken an interest in. Finally finishing her beverage, she packed the Speaker into her briefcase, her floor laced with decorated wood, she slipped her feet into a pair of shoes and left the apartment.
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Boarding off the Trevi, Lesti stepped through the station doors and landed on the filth-ridden ground. The atmosphere attempted to swallow her figure within the grim and hollowness of the air, but her attire and aura isolated and protected her. A couple of workers lifted their heads to see her, their expression a mixture of confusion, cautious, and curiosity. Lesti paid no heed to a few scattered calls for her attention by a couple of men.
"Ma'am–"
A lethargic voice called out to her from her side. A pair of hands reached out from below her, a clear scar of a stab wound showed despite the regeneration they seemed to possess. Lesti turned slightly to look at the old man on the ground. She crouched down and saw the many crawling blue tendrils around his neck and body.
"Hello sir, why do you seek to live?"
"What?– ", the man's face overwhelmed by absurdity and confusion.
"Sir, why do you cling onto life as you do now?"
The biopsy continued. Lesti pulled out a thin, patterned piece of skin from her wallet, the bill clipped between her index and middle finger as she showed it to the man. Desire stared back from the shallow pool of a man.
"I–I don't know? Because, because– I want to keep living… ", the man stuttered to finish his response.
Lesti's eyes continued to stare at the man after hearing his response, the words ruminating within her head. Her expression remained void and her gaze sent a chilling fright down the man's throat, it was then that the man noticed the badge on her chest. Special Investigator, Lesti Kamir; The Bureau of Internal Affairs.
"NO! No… Please!"
The man fell on his knees and begged the woman before him for mercy. Horror, one not out of physical intimidation but from the utmost dread of the complete annihilation of self suffocated the man. He fixed himself in this position for a minute or so.
"... "
But nothing happened. The man hearing neither response nor feeling any attack sheepishly raised his head back up. Two bills laid on the ground before him, the screaming in his mind was muffled by a chilling sensation, and the complete lack of the investigator.
Leaving the encounter Lesti continued to head towards the destination stated in her coordinates. After quite a bit of traveling across the factories and barns, she finally arrived at the old building in lock down. A few members of the DDA stood guard around the premises.
"H– Hold, ma'am, " a young guard raised his hand out. "Please present your ID. "
Seeing the badge on Lesti's chest, the older guard beside the young man hurriedly pulled him aside and politely bowed towards Lesti, gesturing her to continue inside. Eying the two men up and down a bit, Lesti continued into the building without saying a word. The older guard breathed out heavily, and pushed the young man back in anger, though it didn't matter to Lesti what that interaction entailed.
Taking the stairs up the building, Lesti arrived at the entrance of the ominously broken yet simple room, stopping before the door. She placed her briefcase on the ground and opened it. Lesti pulled out a pair of leather gloves and fitted it on her hands. Taking slow cautious steps into the room, her eyes focused on the floor, making sure not to miss or contaminate any crucial detail. A broken bent table laid on the side of the wall, a single chair stood in the middle of the room. Lesti's eyes swept the room in chaos.
"How clean."
A piece of material not belonging to this room stood out to Lesti, a piece of wooden frame laid in one of the corners of the room. Picking it up, she brought it close to her eyes to examine it. Its dated and sophisticated patterns immediately caught her attention.
"Opiuman, wealthy, slightly worn. But here…"
Lesti tucked the wooden piece into an evidence bag and continued back into the investigation. In the back end of the room was a shattered window frame, Lesti leaned out of the frame and saw glass shards scattered on the ground. A thin piece of metallic object caught her attention. She took the stairs down to further examine it. The young guard seeing her exit the building quickly went up to her, despite the pull backs from the older guard.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry for what I did. It was improper of me." the young man said as he lowered his head before her.
Lesti stopped in her tracks for a moment, her gaze tracked the guard in mild bewilderment.
"Who sent you here, and why?"
"Uh, Mr. Friend dispatched us," the young man answered in slight hesitation. "He ordered us to guard the building but improvise if we see fit(?)"
Lesti felt a sense of unease upon the man's body.
"Why are you scared?"
"What? No! I would never– ", the guard was taken aside by the question.
"Then carry on now, no need to mind me."
And without another word, Lesti moved past the stunned man to continue towards the back of the building. A loud silence dawned upon the guard and his partner, leaving only tales of the idiosyncratic to be remembered. The ground was covered in shattered glass, a single black object dyed the purity of the visage. Lesti crouched down and picked up the nail-like weapon, marks of use and tear along with dried blood and vital fluids stained the nail. Remnants of white calcium rubbed the tips of the nail. Lesti opened her briefcase to retrieve the Speaker. Using a scrapper to collect some of the white powder, Lesti fed the cyanistic cube the chalk.
"Speaker. Analyze."
"It, it is, our kind, family, they served, tirelessly, crushing all enemies with their huge stature, there marks fresh, inspiring fear, yes, brave they are." the cube vibrated and warmed in her hand, as if nostalgic for the favored memory.
Lesti listened to the broken chain of attempted human language by the fleshy cube. Her mind raced as meaning pieced and exempted within her mind, a conclusion was reached after some consideration. Pushing off her knees, Lesti stood up, the cube in her palms ceased to make noise, its presence once again relegated back into the case. Lesti began heading toward the stalls of merchants near the gate. The long trek leaves much for Lesti to see, the toiling workers, the dirtied and tired Fishermen, and the sights of opportunists who indulge in their small powers. Going into the market, her presence immediately alerted some attention, most of it cautious and hostile. Lesti was unbothered and even piqued by the displays of hostility. She took some time to examine the merchants in the area, fully taking in whatever fear or discomfort they exerted into her brain. Until locking her eyes at a stoic man who has quite a few patrons lining up for his service.
"Hello sir, I am looking to purchase some intelligence, state your price." Lesti asked as she stepped before the man's stall. The other patrons fled away at her appearance.
"Special Investigator…" the man looked down at his counter for a bit, his palm showing a film of sweat as he rubbed against each other. Whatever he says next could decide his fate for the rest of his career or his life if not careful. Destiny has played a cruel joke on this man.
"...I know a lot of people around these parts, any scoop is sure to brush by me ears. What do you need?" the man replied, attempting to rest his heart back into its rightful place.
"Menacer, Abnormal cranial structure, alone, Opiuman, Likely covered in filth and blood" Lesti listed the boxes one by one
"Funny ya said that, Mr. 'Friend' swung by yesterday askin' the same thing, ya'll investigating something?"
"That is none of your concern."
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry– didn't mean to pry…" The film of sweat appeared not only on his hands but also on the glass counter. "Well uh– that does ring a bell, some twat came by a few days ago. Same look and catch."
"Anything else noteworthy?"
"Well..." the trader's face flashed a brief look of guilt and dread, but he quickly masked it.
"Speak now." Lesti slowly reached into her pocket.
The command sent the merchant into a further reign of dread. After much hesitation and stalling, the man spilled everything he knew.
"Hold on! Hold! Wait– A Gracer, a newborn. That twat carried a baby Gracer in that Menacer Skull–" the man foresaw his doom with his confession.
Lesti looked into the man's eyes, piercing into his very soul. Fear of punishment, of prison, and of execution rotted away at the merchant's stature.
"Why did you hide it?"
The man, expecting arrest or sentencing, was both surprised and unsettled by Lesti's question. How should he answer this? He knows of the disaster a single Gracer could bring upon this city. It wouldn't be much to execute him on the spot. Should he tell her that he wanted to buy the Gracer and sell it at a higher price? Should he confess his sin and hope for a lesser penalty? Or should he try to kill her right now, strangle her to death right here? The man froze as seconds became years within his mind.
"..."
"...I wanted to give my family better, it's a lousy excuse, but it's the truth…" the man lowered his head in almost shameful introspection, a feeling he has not felt in years of being in this unforgiving business.
Lesti continued to gaze at the man. Then, she reached her hand into her pocket. The man closed his eyes to accept whatever karma was about to consume him. But nothing happened. A single card along with a couple of bills were pulled out of Lesti's wallet, and she handed it to the man.
"Wha?–" the man blinked in bewilderment.
The card was an assortment of instructions and routes.
"You have been charged with the over-abundant surplus of Hazardous: 1B Neolives, " Lesti gestured at the barrel of Witherers behind the man. "Report to the Court in the next 2 weeks for your judgement."
With that, Lesti left the completely stunned man. The man collapsed onto the ground in relief, his body and soul felt anew in absolution.
Lesti boarded onto the Trevi, her trip back to The Eternal District ensued. It has been a fruitful day, she has acquired quite a lot of things, both business and personal. The Trevi rumbled on as her consciousness drifted away into slumber. Her foot was a bit sore from all the walking today, and her throat was a tad scratchier than usual. She ruminated on the condition of her body and the things she learnt as she drifted between sleep and awakeness. She'll have to file all of these in a report, a tiny unnoticeable frown grew on her face.
"Ding! Deng!"
The Trevi came to a stop, her consciousness fully regained itself, and she stepped out into the cold and dry breeze. The ground was made with red bricks that arranged themselves as far as the eye can see. She strolled along the many shops and restaurants still open in the evening, some exhibited vibrant flashes of light and music, and some petite with a veil of relaxation. She picked what seemed reasonable to her and conducted her nightly sustenance accordingly. She set down her briefcase on the table, and took out the Speaker.
"Report from Special Investigator, Lesti Kamir, concerning the disappearance of the Shoher Class researcher. An individual, likely a fisherman of aristocratic descent from Opiuma, consumed the Tears of a Gracer and used its traits to kill and erase the remains of the Shoher class researcher. 'Friend'of the Seraphim Division is likely involved if not orchestrating the incident. Detailed paperwork will be provided within one Opiuman week. Report over."
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The buzzle of people and the calls of merchants filled the remaining spaces within Žádnýznam, specifically, the Hub. With so many figures and stories, there was one person who stood out among the dozens. Through the glass window, inside of a mediocre cafe built for the relaxation and entertainment of workers and merchants, sat a young woman in clean and professional attire, seated on a cheap metallic chair unfitting of her status. A man opened the door to the cafe and stepped through the frame, a rush of cold wind peeked into the space and caused the flames in the fireplace to flicker. The cheery man waved at the woman, but she didn't respond, sitting across from her. The metallic chair creaked and screeched as he sat down.
"Lesti! It is great to see you!"
"Mr. Friend, it is a pleasure to see you too."
"Aww, don't be so cold. Just call me Friend! That's what I am to all after all." the bright man chuckled a bit at their own joke.
Lesti didn't respond to the man's humor, instead waiving the waiter over with a slight raise of her hand.
"A cup of coffee, no ice."
"Of course! And what about you sir?"
"I'll have a standard Skoleboller, with Witherer sauce and everything, along with a glass of milk. I trust your skills, it is a truly fine establishment you have here!"
Lesti's eyes twitched upon hearing the request.
"Of course Mr. Friend! Thank you for the compliment. I'll be back in just a moment!" The waitress looked flattered and went into the kitchen.
"Mr. Friend, Are you behind the incident a few days ago concerning the disappearance of a Shoher Researcher?" Lesti said as she looked into Friend's eyes with her iconic gaze.
"Wow, really? Not even waiting for the food to arrive?" 'Friend' reciprocated the stare with one of his own that exuberated friendliness and warmth. "Patience is a virtue, talking over food is much more enjoyable, no?"
Lesti continued to stare at Friend, to which he paid her no mind.
"The truth is, I have nothing to hide! I am a very open and popular person after all. If I wanted to do something in secret, I would think twice before doing it myself!" The man locked his fingers before his chest, continuing to display his famous smile.
"Even if your logs show executions of a Farside worker not conceived on your schedule roughly 4 Opiuman months ago." A stack of paperwork was produced from Lesti's briefcase. "That's one of many. What are you up to, Mr. Friend?"
"Hmmm…" Friend hummed as he played with his fingers. His eyes absentmindedly met with Lesti's "Those are arduous, diligent work, Lesti. Very impressive."
"Mr. Friend, you haven't answered my question–" Lesti chased, but she was interrupted by the waitress who came back with the dessert and drink.
Setting down the cup of coffee in front of Lesti, she stirred the cup a bit with the small spoon. The coffee was lukewarm, and the aroma contained a hint of sourness. Friend was quite pleased with his Skoleboller, poking it with his fork slightly to verify the sauce and texture of the pastry. His glass of milk remained untouched on the side.
"Ah yes, the Skoleboller! Lesti, have you ever had one of these before?"
Lesti nodded her head half-hazardously, her eyes distracted by the sight of the tainted Skoleboller.
"Delightful isn't it? Only the skillful Opiumans could have conjured this from the wilds beyond. I, although never part of the Opiuman caste, love the Skoleboller very much. However, it is a bit too sweet for me." Friend skillfully sliced the Skoleboller into smaller pieces. "I'd say the Witherer sauce creates a perfect balance between the sugar and the savor of the bread."
"But, the Skoleboller is most commonly eaten with coffee," Lesti regained her focus and spoke. "Even if the coffee might be a bit sour."
Lesti forked a piece of Skoleboller from Friend's plate, and dipped it shallowly into her coffee, using her hands as a catcher, she carefully delivered the coffee soaked Skoleboller into her mouth. Her eyes stayed locked to Friend's the whole time.
"Why are you as you are, Mr. Friend?"
Friend's smile shrunk a bit, he turned his eyes to observe the people in the streets. His fingers rhythmically tapped on the table as he brought his other hand to his chin, holding his head. His full signature smile was back as he turned a teasing look towards Lesti. He placed the fork and knife onto the plate, the remaining Skoleboller was untouched.
"You are an interesting person, Ms. Lesti Kamir." Friend laid his hand off his chin onto the table, and leaned towards Lesti.
"Your questions, are meaningless." Friend leaned his back against the metal frame after uttering his line. His stretched arms laid apart on the table. "Like-wise, my answers, are equally meaningless."
Friend's posture changed, he played with the pieced Skoleboller on his plate with a metallic fork.
"Have you ever asked if this Skoleboller wants to or would be filled with Witherer jam one day?" Friend spoke calmly. "That it would be sliced and consumed by us today, in this, frankly, mediocre cafe?"
Lesti's expression faltered for a moment.
"Speaking of which, I hope you won't mind, but I invited a friend along with me today." Friend said as he studied Lesti in an innocent look.
A gust of cold harsh wind swooped into the cafe, the flickering fire was extinguished as a figure bearing a full face mask timidly but firmly stepped into the cafe. The waitress upon seeing the figure, tensed up, her expression turned into one of spite and long acquired rage.
"We will never forget…"
After saying this, the waitress ignored the figure and returned into the kitchen without saying another word. The figure was largely undisturbed by the remark. Seeing Friend seated with someone else, the unsettled figure stood in shock, apparent from their sudden stiff joints and movements.
"...Friend? I– I thought you wanted to have a discussion about work, privately?" The voice beneath the mask sounded frail and insecure. Their hands held onto their mask in rapid thoughts and reconsideration.
"No need to be scared! This lady here is a Special investigator from the BIA. Essentially a colleague of ours!" Friend shouted towards the masked figure and gestured to her to come closer.
The apprehensive woman approached the two, and spotted a chair to sit conservatively beside the table. From her body language, it is clear that she had no desire to be here anymore. She never looked at the suited woman on her left, while Lesti stared in speechlessness from when she witnessed the woman enter the cafe.
"Allow me to introduce you to 'Foe', a member of the Seraphim Division, who has voluntarily troubled themselves over the guardianship of Žádnýznam–"
"Why are you here?–" standing the pretense no longer, a question shot from Lesti towards the newly arrived woman. Her expression, unlike her usual self, depicted one of anger that was hidden and buried for many years.
"I– I'm sorry…" Tears began to roll down from beneath the mask, it dripped into the glass of milk. Her posture shrunk into that of an infant-like manner. She wailed in a tone much like one before a massive mental breakdown.
"Now, now, there's no need to be so aggressive towards my colleague here. Let's talk this out as reasonable and fair people." Friend interjected while watching the drama unfolding.
Lesti's breathing accelerated, a heat escaped from the locked chambers in her heart.
"Your guilt is pointless." Lesti practically scoffed at the pathetic woman on the chair.
"I– I'm sorry… but, I will never stop being sorry." Foe mustered up the strength to respond to Lesti in an uncharacteristically firm stance. "I wouldn't stop."
"WHY?" a moderate but noticeable shout roared from Lesti's throat, it was hardly a scream and yet it may as well have contained the grief of her entire life. Friend looked at her amused in her outburst, but Lesti ignored the man who silently chuckled.
"I– I chose it," Foe sheepishly raised her head up from her lap. The mask pointed directly at Lesti, though her face was hidden, a distinguishable human voice pierced through the cover and shimmered towards Lesti. "I am the sorrow of the abandoned; grief, how can I not?"
Lesti stopped, her wrath and rage quelled involuntarily. She sat motionlessly on the metallic chair, her gaze aimed forward, though it leaves no impression of vision. Seeing this, Friend pushed his chair back in a loud uncomfortable screech and stood up.
"Well! This was a pleasant meeting, Lesti, it was a pleasure speaking to you. Foe, let's head back to Cartiglen and report today's meetings." Friend delivered these words with a smile.
"'Friend', you go ahead, I have some other matters to attend to." Foe replied in some sourness and scuff. Remnants of tears continued to drip from the edges of her mask.
Friend wasn't bothered by Foe's response. He held up the plate of minced Skoleboller with only a single piece missing, and casually drowned it into the glass of milk, spilling it across the table on the stack of paper work in a saturated mess. He left the cafe after placing a few bills onto the counter. Soon, Foe left the cafe after cleaning the table somewhat, apologizing in a shaky, cry filled voice. Stains of milk and pastry hid in the cracks and rims of the furniture. Lesti was left alone to gaze out into the buzzling street as the sun set. Her eyes focused on nothing at all.
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Arriving at the West gate, the special investigator stopped and profusely observed the towering walls that could be spotted all around the city in their grotesque beauty. She moved past the small section of residence, the buildings degrading and becoming more abstract as she moved closer to the walls. At last, what stood before the investigator was the old metallic gates that, among other things, whispered stories of dissolution and necessity.
Pushing open the metallic door, she strided into the dark hallway illuminated only by a single decrepit ceiling light. Seeing the woman, the two guards choked a bit by their own spit before scramming out of the junction. The inspector who was resting in his seat slowly took his hat off and stood up as the woman stopped in front of the glass window.
"Good morning, inspector." The woman said as she turned to look at the old man within the shield.
"Good morning to you too, ma'am." the man hailed as he saluted the woman.
"Were you an Opiuman?" the woman said without any change in her emotions.
Hearing the strange yet accurate question, the old man rested his hand onto his sides.
"Yes ma'am."
"How perfect, the angle, the duration, and the firmness of your salute."
"...Thank you." the old man hesitated a bit but accepted the genuine compliment.
"Inspector, do you recall a fisherman that you processed a week back? They carried the corpse of a large Menacer, of Opiuman descent, likely of aristocracy."
The man shuddered, but he remained stiff and formal in his posture, exposing no cracks in his armor of calmness.
"Yes ma'am. I did in fact process them."
"Were you of DDA Decontamination standards and followed all inspection protocols?"
The man's words stopped at his throat. He urged and pushed them out of his throat.
"...Yes ma'am."
"..." the woman looked at the man up and down a bit, her face devoid of visible emotions.
The man remained standing, he felt the piercing gaze of the woman in front of him, powerless to do anything but to become a specimen for her to study. After a while, the woman spoke once more.
"...Inspector, I am also of Opiuman descent."
The scarred man stretched his eyes in shock, his surprise was quickly overridden by confusion of her sudden admittance.
"I loved Opiuma even as a child, it was more than just a district within Forceouna, it was my home. When The Unrelieving happened, I, much like you, survived the event." the woman recounted, her face remained expressionless.
"I swore to myself that day, that I would never allow such things to happen again." Her emotionless face began to leak a singe of melancholy and regret. One buried deep within her heart.
"Hence, I can't understand…" The woman stopped a bit, a hint of sadness briefly escaped from her controlled expression, she crouched and opened her briefcase on the ground, out of the man's sights. Standing back up, her face laced with nothing but the consuming forces of if not the Ocean itself
The man's eyes widened in horror as the woman slid a small capsule filled with a tiny amount of amber colored liquid into the metallic chute. The woman raised her head again to meet the inspector's, his face crumbling in fear and helplessness.
"...why you would allow a Neolife to trample upon our last and only homeland." Lesti's face pieced itself back together, the abyss stared back at the old man.
"You are hereby executed by means of Maimer Incapacitation Necrotic Dealignment (M.I.N.D), effective immediately, 4 months and 2 days after The Call of The Deep Phenomenon, Year 19PO," Lesti tucked the Speaker back into her briefcase. "Put the capsule in your mouth, lest further actions be taken against you."
The aged, scarred man shook in fear and despair, his vocal cords failing to unleash even a syllable of protest. His hands betrayed the actions his logical mind is convincing himself of doing. The man cupped the capsule into his hands, fearing his fingers would rebel against him. He looked at the woman one more time, her face was still as the waves itself. He shoved his weak and trembling hand into his twitching wide open mouth, the capsule slid down his throat. Almost immediately, the man fell onto the ground in complete paralysis. Pain, nothing but pain swallowed his entire body. It felt as if a molten nail was hit into every pore and inch of his body, never cooling, never stopping, and always feeling. His muscles, teeth, eyes, and even organs tried to crawl out from his flesh, away from the state of perpetual suffering. Lesti knelt as she watched the man spasmed on the ground in pain for hours, she burnt the image of the suffering man into her mind in mournful silence and stillness. Finally, the spasm caused by the Maimer poison stopped, along with the man's heart. The sound of air pushing itself out of the man's body made a sharp sound as it passed through his larynx. Lesti stood back-up, a silent drop of tear rolled down from her cheek, and she exited out through the slab of metal and rust.