Risen Chapter 28: The First Taste

“Looks like you were worried for nothing, huh?” Roy teased as the sun fell. Despite his words, he had been notably concerned throughout the day. Part of that had been my fault; I had taken care to impress upon him the dangerousness of the Gray Woman, along with his own relative helplessness. Though he had already begun to take Jack’s advice, accumulating a horde of creepy crawlies, he lacked the Unified Risen to make himself truly effective in the way that he eventually could be.

Without a large enough number of [Unity]-altered Risen to act as his eyes and ears, Roy was unable to coordinate his Risen from a distance, forced instead to remain closer at hand. That made his body the weak point in his capabilities, which was an uncomfortable thought - especially after hearing of the extent to which gray dust could enhance an individual’s strength.

Even when stealing, Roy had acted behind his Risen for the most part; it wasn’t difficult to see why he would be uneasy.

I let his bravado go without comment. To tell the truth, I was also extremely relieved that trouble had not yet arrived. The day, following so closely behind the previous hectic events, had left my mind akin to a taut steel wire, pulled to the brink and ready to snap at a moment’s notice. There had just been so much, lately. First the thugs in the alley, then my worries about the Guard, followed by my encounter with the Dusters and their enigmatic leader, only to find new worries regarding Gil and the Stone...it was a bit overwhelming, truly.

In the past 48 hours, I had been tugged every which way - each tug insistently demanding my full attention, each deserving it. Yet, I could give that to none of them. I was spread too thin, stretched too wide.

I wasn’t sure what to do.

That was the crux of the matter. As much as I had always wanted to be a hero, those dreams had always involved joining the Guardians, becoming a part of the greatest hero organization in Rothel. That choice no longer existed. As far as I could tell, the closest approximation to that nearby was the Spectral Guard, and I had already surmised that interacting with them closely might be a risky maneuver; the bias against Corrupted, as I was sure they would eventually discover I was one, made me hesitant.

I could very well be worried over nothing. In fact, I probably was.

It didn’t matter.

It hit too close to home; it reminded me too much of the way things had been. The way that I had been vilified, hated for a characteristic that I could not control. The way that the heroes of the world had turned against me. As justified as that might have been, it still stung.

It still left a mark, one that affected me even now.

So no, joining up with the Spectral Guard was likely a last resort. Unfortunately, that meant that I was left with far fewer options. Hopefully, the warnings that I had passed on through Gil proved effective, but there was no way to be sure without getting personally involved.

I felt far more comfortable working with Katrina’s Killers. Maybe it was their attitudes; irreverent, yet highly competent. Maybe I was simply latching onto the first groups of people that showed me companionship, the first people that accepted me. Either way, I had made my decision.

During the day, I had managed to get to know a few more of the mercenaries. The group was rather small, all told, numbering 12 mercenaries after they had taken in Roy. Still, their small size meant that they were all the more closely-knit.

My first impression of them had been a strange one, but not altogether incorrect. The two men, Derrick and Ethan, who had been engaged in a drunken knife-throwing contest when I entered the mercenaries’ quarters, were rather like Jack. They were almost comical in their antics, seeming as if the world was something of a joke to them to outside observers. That assumption would have been wrong. Just like Jack, they acted the way they did because the world was anything but a joke to them. It was all too serious, and they were more aware than most how fragile their life might be.

All of the mercenaries were, really. They just had different ways of showing it.

Some took after Will, instead, such as Robert and Hector. They were somber, dour almost. They, too, understood the tenuous nature of life - they simply took that knowledge in another direction, doing all that they could to be deadly and highly competent.

One might have thought that the opposing attitudes would have caused strife, but it didn’t. Perhaps it was because each of those attitudes had a representative in the higher-ups of the group. Perhaps it was because of the example set by Katrina, Jack, and Will. Perhaps it was because they knew that, at the end of the day, they had each other’s backs.

They were there for one another, whatever might come their way.

In the end, maybe that was what appealed to me so much. That sense of trust, of friendship and reliance, of acceptance despite their differences.

There was a degree of camaraderie involved in their interactions that I had sorely missed over my long years of isolation. It made me feel like I was taking the first steps towards becoming who I used to be, before...

I pulled away from that thought, returning my attention to the conversation at hand.

“Maybe I did worry a bit too much. Still, I -” my words were cut off by a loud crash. I cursed, Roy cursing alongside me.

It seemed that we had spoken too soon.

We rushed in the direction of the noise. With the sun down, the High Market had become far more empty. Only a few stragglers, slowed by overladen shopping bags and, in the case of a rare few, overladen livers. Those few dawdlers had panicked looks pasted upon their faces, though the drunks among them were far slower to react. Still, it seemed that the robberies by the Gray Woman’s subordinates was recognizable enough that they knew there was trouble - or perhaps it was just the natural human inclination to startle at loud noises.

Regardless, they had begun to clear the area with haste, long-shadowed legs stretching against the walls in the light of cast by the nearby lanterns. They were prominent, here in the High District, placed with far more frequency. Whereas the lanterns that dotted the Low District’s streets were few in number and often damaged beyond repair, plunging streets and alleyways into deep shadows, the High Market was well-lit. Though the difference might have been due to additional lights being placed at points of increased traffic such as the High Market, I had a niggling suspicion that it was simply yet another example of the contrast between the rich and the poor.

Even with powers, that schism would always exist.

For now, I chose to ignore that troubling thought, deciding instead to be thankful for the illumination provided by the abundant lanterns in the area. Having seen the Gray Woman, I knew that anyone under the immediate effects of gray dust would blend into the darkness, camouflaged by their stonelike flesh. Fortunately, the concealing effect would not be to the same degree as it would have in my own time, as the building’s construction had shifted from gray stone and concrete to white bone, causing a greater degree of contrast.

Regardless, I was still thankful for the light. Anything would help; I did not want to lose any of the mercenaries. I did not want to lose any of my newfound friends.

With that in mind, I controlled my pace. Though I was worried for those that were already fighting, I knew that Roy was the most vulnerable of everyone involved - as well as being the one for whom I felt the greatest sense of responsibility. I could have left him in the dust, sprinting onward with a complete disregard for pesky little things like endurance and strain. I didn’t, keeping stride with the youth as we ran through the High Market.

Fortunately, the noise had come from the eastern edge of the High Market. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, as the more affluent of the shops were clustered closer to those who could most afford to pay - to wit, away from the western side that skewed closer to the Low District. With that in mind, Katrina and Will were deployed in the area. Jack had taken position on the southern edge, with a similar reasoning. The south end of the High Market pressed against the Temple District; while it wasn’t quite as residential as the High District, and thus less likely to provide an influx of shoppers, it was certainly well-off.

With the three mercenary officers clustered so close together, I had enough faith that they could hold to stay my anxiety. Were my crow-self in the area, I would have been tempted to check. However, my sense of responsibility had dictated that I leave it near where I could keep an eye on Gil. As it stood, he was holed up in the Spectral Guard’s HQ after having brought them the Stone and my message; I was thankful for that, as I was nearly certain that the insistent man from earlier in the day had known what the Stone was. It might have been my paranoia speaking, having grown accustomed to terrible things occurring, but I was sure that the Gray Woman would soon know about it - that is, if she didn’t already.

Meanwhile, my other two Unified Risen were safely ensconced in my chest cavity. With the current numbers that I had available in the area, they were far too valuable to use in any situation that wasn’t an immediate emergency. I had a few more in Reaper’s Grave, but they were being kept safe for future purposes.

Another blast of noise came from the eastern edge of the High Market, a thunderous cracking on bone that I could only hope was a building and not a person. I couldn’t imagine many people barring Katrina surviving an impact that powerful.

Roy, despite his heaving breaths, increased his pace; I increased my own alongside him, lengthening my stride to match his. Despite the danger involved, it was heartening to see. I had been right about the former thief. Despite the criminal nature of our first encounter, he had the makings of a hero. Even now, he was fighting to reach the others - people he barely knew, mind - despite knowing how relatively unprepared he was. It was inspiring, in a way.

It was the sort of thing that had made me want to be a hero, myself. That desire to help others, to throw oneself into danger despite the odds...it was beautiful to hear about.

It was breathtaking to see.

His heavy-laden pack, strapped tightly around him, bounced slightly as he ran. Chitin and carapace scraped together with each step, the sound nearly hidden behind the youth’s panting breaths.

Soon, they would be let free.

Soon, the former thief would have his first taste of heroism.