The subway entrance was overgrown with weeds and partially blocked. The wooden planks had been pried to reveal a gap of space for a person to slip through.
Kane crouched down, wearing gloves to prevent any splinters, before he pried away more of the wood. On the side, Elliot clapped and whistled loudly, admiring the flex in the doctor's jaw.
In return, he received a short and indifferent glance of warning.
Although Kane's voice wasn't in his head at that moment, he could almost imagine a curt and calm comment of 'be quiet'.
Nora pursed her lips. "I'm wary of the consequences if we venture down. It's... dangerous. We know nothing of their intentions or plans—we're walking into a trap."
"We either walk into it, or we allow it to walk to us," said Kane, analyzing the options behind his calculating gaze. "Which would you prefer?"
There was some comfort in Kane's familiar attitude that reminded Nora of Lucas, in a way. Although the latter was more reckless, snappier at times, yet curious, Kane represented responsibility and reliability.
Of course, allowing the enemy to go to the hospital wasn't ideal—there were too many patients to protect, and they couldn't risk that.
She wondered if it had been the right choice to leave Elias behind to guard the children and Lucas. But she wanted to place her trust in the kindness he rarely revealed. The moment of gentleness he showed when tending to Lucas.
Elliot jumped through the gap, skipping on the steps as he waved. "We're already here, aren't we? No going back now!"
Kane let out a sigh of exasperation as he followed the rowdy young man into the subway, nodding at Nora. If she chose to remain at the top, he wouldn't blame her.
But she also had somebody she wanted to protect.
Even if that person was just a ghost of the past, an illusion.
The cracking stone walls were covered in both graffiti and dirt, weeds growing at the corners of the steps. Old lights flickered in and out, barely alive. It was as if they could all burn out at once, at any given moment.
Nora hoped that wouldn't be the case—fighting in the dark in another's territory was asking for death.
She tucked a wayward strand of short hair behind her ears, swallowing nervously. Her palms felt a little sweaty, and there was a natural sense of disgust at the dirty walls and ground, not cleaned in perhaps years.
Nora didn't like dirt or uncleanliness, as many others did. She dressed neatly, didn't get into fights, and was the best student in her classes.
It was a wonder how things had changed since.
She fired a gun, aimed to kill others, and survived in bloodbaths that she never thought she'd make it out of. She ventured into risky places and situations without question; getting mud on her brand-new shoes no longer mattered.
What else would inevitably change?
"What will happen even if the apocalypse ends?" she wondered aloud.
Elliot peered at her, his whistling stopping. "Well... who knows, right? Isn't it too early to think about things that aren't gonna happen anytime soon?"
Kane shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with wondering. Eventually, humanity will return to a new sense of normality and society will adjust again—as they adjusted to death and fighting, they will eventually adjust to a normal life again."
"Can we really overlook the tragedy that has happened?" She asked genuinely, as if going back to her classes again were too strange and unnatural.
Kane nodded, glancing at the floating spiderweb that brushed his jacket, and swiped it off. "It's surprising how quickly people can adjust."
She thought about it, and Kane looked away without saying anything else. Life-changing moments weren't really life-changing; they were just about adapting to a new routine.
Moving countries sounded terrifying and lonely, but after a year, many adjusted to their new life and considered it normal again.
A new job was frightening, but in a year, it'd become routine, and they'd find comfort in the new, eventually old, environment.
And relationships burned bright in the first weeks of romance, before couples either settled into a satisfying routine or grew bored and separated.
That wasn't to say there weren't exceptions, but it was truly frightening how soon people adapted to different events. How the new and exciting quickly became old and regular.
They reached the end of the steps, and entered. Concave ceilings loomed around them, and there were rusted tracks that hadn't been used in years or more. It felt unsettling to stand in a place once bustling with people, now lifeless.
"However," the man cut through the silence, "that doesn't mean things won't change. There will be dead to mourn, and buildings to repair. A 'new' normal doesn't mean that we forget everything that happened."
Nora stared at the doctor, then smiled softly. "Yes, that's true."
Elliot suddenly lifted his head sharply, leaping to the side. Kane reacted a second after, slamming into Nora as the pair tumbled against the harsh ground, the sound of an item flying above them.
The unknown object pierced through a wall, while the three groaned from the unexpected scene.
Loud clapping echoed from all around them, sound bouncing around the enclosed space. They couldn't see where it came from.
Elliot flipped backwards again, with incredibly light and flexible moves, landing on his feet. He smiled slyly at the invisible arrow that soared beside the curve of his body and dodged several more with exaggerated movements.
When Nora watched in surprise, Kane gave a calm glance over. "It's one of his abilities. The nimbleness of a feline."
Elliot shouted from where he perched on a slab of stone. "Hey! Don't give away my secrets, Doctor! Doesn't this ability perfectly suit a capable youth like myself?"
"It suits you well, seeing how you like to run away."
"...hey, that's not fair!"
Alastair glanced sideways, raising his thick eyebrows in interest. "Now, I didn't know that, Sylvia. Keeping secrets from me, are you?"
"It was a negligible meeting. Our interactions were limited," said the beautiful woman curtly. "Our brief encounter will not affect any tasks you give to me, Master."
Before anybody could speak, Alastair swiveled his head around with a look of panic and embarrassment. "Hold up—don't think of me as a pervert, strangers. Her way of calling me is something she decided herself!"
Elliot tilted his head and grinned. "Isn't your defending of the action more suspicious?"
"Is that how things work? Conversations are full of psychological tricks, truly."
Kane silently observed the scruffy man across from him—messy in appearance, but not in body language or attitude. Behaving in a relaxed manner that didn't care for the surroundings, absolutely confident in his survival.
Was that confidence because of the woman beside him, whom Kane hadn't even realized was there until she appeared to block Elliot's attacks?
There was something uncanny about the pair, man and woman.
Lucas had always been adept at figuring people out and at deciphering who to trust and who not to. Like that time, his brother, only ten, saw a teenager in rags, with dark circles under his eyes, approaching a girl.
The strangers nearby screamed and hurled insults at him. Even Kane had admitted to suspecting the scene, with the appearance of the teenager being incredibly poor. However, he wouldn't have reacted in such an exaggerated manner.
It had been Lucas, a boy with baby fat still in his cheeks, who pointed a finger out and said calmly, "He's trying to return her wallet."
The child's words had broken up the chaotic scene and brought everybody to realize that there was indeed a wallet in the teenager's hands, held towards the girl.
And that if they looked closely, the teenager's eyes were rimmed in red from being accused, back hunched away as if frightened of being hit.
Kane chuckled to himself under his breath.
"Am I boring you, that your thoughts would stray to amusement?" wondered Alastair loudly, his hoarse voice grating yet languid. "Now, since you're all here and everything, I'll give you some options."
"Options?" called out Nora softly, though her voice was firm and her stare set, fingers still wrapped around her gun. "What options?"
"The first is obviously most ideal—for you and me. You won't feel any pain in the slightest, and I'll achieve wonderful specimens."
Kane understood immediately and spoke curtly. "You intend to steal our faces."
"Let's say it's an ability of mine, to disconnect the skin cells and make something... unique and tethering between life and death. And the strong make wonderful guards, while your faces would decorate my rooms beautifully."
Elliot leaned closer to Kane and whispered loudly, "Careful, pretty doctor. It's a pervert! You're the most ideal target!"
"..." Kane opened his mouth and closed it before pushing away Elliot's face with a single finger, shaking his head. "You said there were other options."
"Ah, you're declining the first one, then? I've always known my hobbies were a little out of the ordinary, but that's unfortunate indeed," lamented the man, scratching at his beard. Kane didn't let down his guard for a moment.
Because he could recognize the sharpness behind the messy appearance, the arrogance in the man's movements.
"How about..." He snapped his fingers, and Sylvia disappeared.
Kane spun around, grabbing the slender wrists that appeared from nowhere, throwing the woman to the ground in a swiftly, his coat billowing around him.
He kicked underneath as she propped herself up, swinging his long legs around and pinning her to the ground as he twisted her arm sharply behind.
In moments, she was disabled.
The woman, hair unraveled at the edges to frame her icy expression, didn't look at Kane. Her gaze remained as if permanently glued on Alastair.
"Dearest Sylvia, I'm rather disappointed," mused the man. "I suppose I must reward the winner, since you insist on not joining my collection, then I'll allow you to escape if you defeat a hundred of my lovely friends."
Another snap of his fingers, and a hundred pairs of blinking eyes peered from the darkness of the subway, both under the shaking lights and within the shadows.
"For the trouble, I'll not only provide you with some more adequate weapons—I'm a collector, after all—but also the company of my most precious servant."
Elliot sneered at the words, full of complaint. "Heh... why should we adhere to your perverse desires? Hey, can't I just kill him here?"
Alastair's smile went cold, flattened, and plain. "A collection of things you may not have an interest in, but I do. Regardless, if the world is burning, then I see no point in holding back on my darkest thoughts."
"Nah, isn't there the saying or something? To keep one's sanity during the darkest times is to remain a dim ray of hope during madness."
"I don't believe I've heard of that saying."
"Yeah, I don't think I have either. I just made it up."
Alastair's expression thinned, lacking its original amusement as he turned his unkempt gaze to Kane. "Now, your answer, doctor?"
"This woman here is not an object for you to trade with."
"You're noble, certainly." A sharp, ugly chuckle escaped the man as he tilted his head at Sylvia. "What do you say, Sylvia? Do you disagree with my offer?"
"I will follow your will."
Kane furrowed his eyebrows, lifting his knee from her back as he stood up, patting the dust away. "I don't like treating you like a trade. It's unseemly."
"You either agree," said the woman coldly, "Or disagree and die here. I am nothing, and my life is my Master's to use. If he tells me to die, I will die. And if I should live, then I'll live."
Stubbornness hardened her features, and Kane refrained from protesting any further. There was an obscure relationship between the pair that he couldn't decipher.
It wasn't exactly romantic or subservient—no; it was a deep-rooted loyalty and dedication. She offered her life up on a silver platter, in which Alastair seemed to indulge willingly.
Nora, standing at the side and watching with both fear and contemplation, recalled how Sylvia had pitted against them in the Prison Story.
Was this the person she was willing to exert all means to return to?
Alastair was smiling again before he stepped back and disappeared, only to return with several items in his arms. He tossed one down with precise aim, landing at the feet of each person.
"For the gorgeous woman, a set of guns that has an unlimited supply. If you're lucky, you may fire a shot with a little surprise."
Silver guns crossed in front of Nora, who blinked in surprise, enchanted as her fingers drew towards the cold metal before her mind could process it. She lifted it, disregarding any suspicion, feeling the lightness in her palms.
Kane flinched, not daring to run out as he waited for any peculiar reactions to occur. Nora blinked, having shaken out of her stupor, and frowned. "I sense nothing wrong with this."
"Of course. Why would I provide you with faulty equipment and dare to ruin my reputation? Now, for the cheeky and irritated youth whom I dearly wish death upon, a set of blades that can slice through bone—even your own."
The daggers curved dangerously, bent into a sharp incline, and coated in a dark sheen—a silver skull encrusted on the handle, fitting for a wild and reckless youth.
Alastair prompted the other to pick it up. "Doesn't it look cool? I believe this is in fashion for children your age."
Elliot, who had reached out, froze. Then, deciding being called a child couldn't compare to gaining an exciting, free, and most importantly, free daggers, picked it up and grinned.
"Then I'll happily accept it, old man!"
"As for you," the man ignored the youth's annoying ramblings, turning to the doctor, "I believe you have a precious ability you've yet to use. Therefore, I won't grant you anything."
He gestured towards Sylvia, who leaped up and elegantly landed by his side. The pair stared, but the darkness at their feet condensed before splintering out and swallowing them entirely.
In seconds, they disappeared.
But it wasn't the time to think about that—Kane jerked his chin up, staring into the hundred peering faces, all lacking noses or mouths.
Nora had forgotten that the odd pair had completed a Story together, even getting into a curse due to Elliot's recklessness and foolery.
A sigh escaped the doctor as he straightened his coat and called out into the darkness, standing underneath a flickering light. "I would prefer not to resort to violence if possible. Is your only intention our deaths?"
Laughter rumbled chaotically, and a distant shadow appeared in the light. They couldn't tell where the messy, middle-aged man came from, dressed in tattered clothing.
"The name's Alastair McQueen, and no, my intention is not solely your deaths."
He scratched the back of his head, a scruffy bed of brown hair atop his head. "Now, now," he said, as Nora drew her gun and Elliot spun his blades between slender fingers. "Let's all get along."
Kane gazed ahead without betraying any emotion. In a straight and calm voice, he spoke. "Then tell me, Alastair McQueen, what are your intentions? You have attacked us on two occasions now."
Alastair shook his head gruffly. "If you'd have died from such things, then it would've been useless to seek you out, ay?"
Without warning, Elliot, who had been watching from the side, lunged at the man, leaping up from high in the air. The man tilted his chin back, scratching his beard calmly.
"Hm, that won't do."
Metal clashed loudly, reverberating around them. A beautiful face appeared from behind Alastair, flinging a sword up to block Elliot's blades.
The crazed youth fell back, jumping closer to Kane. Body crouched by the man's side, it conveyed a sense of reliance on the doctor.
A woman stepped from behind Alastair, hair tied neatly in a bun as her cold eyes settled over each person. Dark red lipstick stained her plump lips as she dressed in a modest black dress and combat boots.
The air remained stagnant.
Alastair cleared his throat crudely, gesturing towards the woman who stood a few inches taller. "Right, introductions are important when socializing, hm? This here is my dear and ever loyal maid, Sylvia."
A nod was all that was given by the woman, gazing with eyes that told what she saw were not human, but merely insignificant bugs.
Nora parted her lips in surprise, realizing the familiarity in the woman's face. "I... we've met before, haven't we?"