Chương 56: Not Much Hope

It only took Hector a few seconds of mulling over his system report to decide what to do next. Go ahead and start the leveling process. That leaves me with six potentia, right? By way of answer, Evie flashed another system update: / /35 potentia applied. Corpus Vivum conditioning has begun. Approximately 24 hours to complete level advancement. Disorientation, weakness, and even fleeting incapacitation may occur. Extra caloric intake is recommended. // //Aura potentia: 6. // Hector nodded.

"Buy the speed boost." //Speed Boost ability purchased for 5 aura potentia… Initiating aura pathway propagation. This process is queued and will not begin until after you've completed your level-up. Once begun, expect extreme fatigue for up to 6 hours. Bed rest is recommended. // Hector noticed Sass staring, clearly fascinated by the idea that he was interacting with his aura system. He smiled and held up a finger.

"Almost done. Evie, don't start that second one unless I'm going to be sleeping. Give me a heads-up." //Understood. //"So, like, that's how you do it? You just talk to the AI and it applies the potentia?" Hector nodded, sipping his cola; the car attendant had been good about keeping it topped off.

"Basically." The car lurched, decelerating appreciably, and the AI announced they were approaching Heliopolis.

"Where's our stop?" Sass asked, peering out the window. Hector wondered if she'd ever been to Helio before. Had she ever left Redwick Station?

"Past the center of town. We've got a few minutes." She nodded, reaching for her cola, sipping it through the straw.

"Is it true about aura colors?" Hector sighed.

"Is what true?"

"How the colors, um, cancel each other?" That got Hector's attention. He arched an eyebrow, looking at her skeptically." What now?"

"Like the rhymes?" Sass looked at him like he was dense. When he continued to stare, shaking his head slightly, she said, "Like, 'When blue faces red, better off dead,' right? And 'green against gold—fold or be sold,' and—oh—'black eats light, end of the fight.' Everybody knows that stuff." Hector's words left his tongue before he could review them: "That's a load of shit." Sass's eyes widened, and she flinched like the words had been a slap.

"What? Seriously? But everyone knows—""Everyone doesn't know shit. Aura colors don't cancel each other. They don't affect each other at all. An aura color tints an aura user's talents—it shapes the pathways their aura system can find. Red auras, like me, will find different archetypes than a green aura, and so on."

"But why's everyone scared of reds, then?"

"Well, a red aura doesn't cancel any other auras, but like I said, the color will tint abilities. Reds get more offensive talents and archetypes. My Aura Blade is more effective than a—well, to use your example, a blue's."

"But blues don't automatically lose to reds?" Hector snorted.

"No. Blues tend to get more defensive abilities, and I guess you could see how those nonsense rhymes could get started, but the variety of aura abilities is too vast to simplify things like that. My, um, mentor said he'd seen golds who could crush most reds, even blacks. He said he knew a blue who could implode a city block." Hector wasn't sure why he was being so vehement about the whole thing.

Things were just so different in his new life—not because of the years that had passed, but because he was mixed in with people who'd learned nothing beyond the Imperial-mandated curriculum. He shook his head at the thought. Even before he'd joined the Guard, before he'd risen through the strata of society, he didn't recall such ignorance. It felt almost intentional—like the Empire or maybe just the elite in general were working to keep the masses down by feeding them disinformation.

It wouldn't surprise him, but he also had to consider that it was just another symptom of a decaying civilization, that knowledge truly was being lost.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," Sass said, apparently having seen a reflection of Hector's dour thoughts on his face. He shook his head again, more forcefully.

"No, it's not you. I think this conversation has just been a reminder of how far I have to go."

"For?" He smiled at her, but there wasn't an ounce of amusement in the expression.

"Vengeance."

"Against?"

"Powerful people, Sass." She licked her lips, and for the first time he saw genuine doubt in her eyes. She'd given up everything to follow a veritable stranger into the unknown. After her first real look into his psyche, she'd come away with a new understanding: everything was not okay with Hector Valerius. He smirked at the thought, and she blew out a soft huff of air, a half-laugh.

"I should have known you were damaged."

"Yeah, that's putting it lightly."

"Well, you're not gonna chase me off that easily." Hector didn't reply. His mind had gone down dark pathways, one of which led to a broken corpse that used to belong to a blonde-haired doll named Lemon. When the train pulled into their stop, he was up, bag in hand, walking with a purpose before the brakes finished squealing. When he stepped out into the less-than-clean, chilly air of Heliopolis, he paused on the platform to turn left and right, getting his bearings. Sass came up beside him, and he pointed.

"We'll go talk to Grando first." She followed him to the concrete steps, breathlessly asking, "Grando?"

"Crime boss Lemon works for." He took the steps two at a time, and Sass kept pace easily enough; she was fit. Hector wove through the pedestrians at the bottom, covering ground at an almost reckless pace. He couldn't help it; he kept seeing Lemon's cold, lifeless face, and he kept thinking about how he had so many questions he still wanted to ask her—where was home to her? What got her hooked up with Grando? Did she have any family? Any dreams?

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. They were stupid questions; things he could have asked a hundred times, but he hadn't, and the idea that he might not be able to really bothered him. Maybe it was Britt's recent death affecting him, or maybe talking to Sass had jostled some of his personality back into place, but all he felt when he thought of Lemon was regret and something almost like shame.

How many chances to be a human with her had he let slip through his fingers?

"H-Hector?" Sass asked, grunting an apology as she spun to avoid a slow-walking older man. Her backpack scraped the corner of a building as they angled around it.

"Yeah?"

"You good?"

"I told you, my friend's missing."

"Right. Um, right." Sass pressed her lips together, gripped her backpack straps, and the skull tattoo grew more prominent, covering her natural features. When they reached the club, Hector nodded to the bouncer on duty—the guy with the chrome forehead.

"Grando in?"

"Shit, that you? Thought you quit or something. Yeah, he's in." He tilted his head at Sass, but didn't say anything as they walked past him, slipping into the club. Music thumped through the air. Chem vapors made Hector's eyes sting, and he squinted into the dim light, spying Orin lurking at his little booth near the storeroom door. At that hour, only one stage was active, but the girls dancing were giving their all for the handful of patrons clustered around.

He didn't recognize the girls, so he pushed past the little throng, Sass close behind. When he reached Orin's table, the big enforcer had his nose buried in a crystal-glass tablet and didn't notice his approach. Hector shook the table with his boot, and the bruiser looked up, scowling.

"Cut the shit—" His eyes widened when he saw Hector, and he lurched to his feet.

"Damn, killer! I didn't know you'd be here today." He held out a meaty fist, and Hector gave it a thump.

"Lemon?" Orin frowned, shaking his head.

"No word, man. Haven't found shit on the cam feeds, either. Grando put some feelers out, and I haven't talked to him yet. Maybe…" He trailed off as Hector turned and walked over to the storeroom door. He paused before opening it and turned back to Orin, pointing to Sass.

"This is Sass." As Orin nodded, Hector looked into Sass's bright eyes, glinting from the depths of her skull sockets.

"Just wait here a few. I gotta talk to Grando." She nodded, and Hector yanked the door open, slipping into the storeroom—his birthplace in that strange new life.

"I said I was busy," the crime boss said, his back to the door, smoke swirling up around him as he continued, obviously speaking to someone over a call, "Yeah, yeah, just like that. No, make sure he knows it was from me. Make sure you write the message exactly—""Grando," Hector said, his voice flat but loud enough to cut through the other man's chatter. The boss spun in his chair, reached up and removed his cigar from his mouth, and then said, "I'll call you back."

His eyes flashed with tiny lights before he said, "I didn't think you'd be back today. Figured you'd stay for a day or two after those goddamn fights. Holy shit, my boy! We cleaned up!" Hector stepped closer, nodding.

"Good. What about Lemon?"

"Ah, listen, buddy, I don't know what to tell you; there's not much hope. Girls like that—sometimes they just disappear. Maybe she met someone."

"Don't talk to me like I'm one of your idiot thugs." Grando inhaled deeply, stuffing his cigar out in an ashtray. Through a haze of smoke, he looked up at Hector.

"You and I both know she's probably gone. She had a lot of dangerous clients." He shrugged.

"Then there're the PKs. They turn a blind eye most of the time—hell, half of them probably hired her—but all it takes is one bad day, one PK pushed past his limit for bullshit. Girls like Lemon are easy targets. Man, I lose girls every damn week…" Hector growled, stepping closer to Grando's desk. His eyes glinted dangerously—flickers of crimson aura bleeding into his pathways.

"We're going to find her, and if she is gone, then the people responsible will pay." Grando reached for his cigar, saw that he'd already put it out, and frowned.

"You make me nervous, Hector. I've got news about the rift—not sure we really have time—""Don't test me on this one, Grando."

"Fine." The boss sighed, then held up a thick, well-manicured finger.

"Let me call a meeting." His eyes unfocused and, after a few seconds, he said, "Get all the boys into the club…yes, now." As Grando refocused on Hector, he pointed to the chair in front of his desk.

"Now will you sit down a minute? I'm gonna put all my guys on the Lemon thing. We'll figure out what's up." Hector hesitated for a moment—he felt the urgent need to be looking for Lemon, but he couldn't turn down the help of an army of criminals, could he? Grando's men knew the neighborhood. They knew the city, and they'd know who to ask. It was worth waiting a little while for them to assemble. He sat down in the chair, though he had to lean forward slightly because of his backpack.

"So, I made the cash we needed for the rift by betting on your fights. A little more, in fact, but I'm taking that as a management fee."

"I want to see the slips."

"Come on, Hector! You gotta start trusting me sometime!" When Hector just stared, Grando sighed and shrugged.

"I'll forward the bet details to you." Hector nodded.

"So, here's the deal, I paid the crooked son of a bitch who's selling the slot for the rift raid, and it looks like he neglected to tell me all the logistics." Son of a bitch is trying to angle for more cash.

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that you're going to be joining an existing team and they do drills—for weeks —leading up to the raid." Hector exhaled, relaxing. Grando wasn't scheming—at least not about that—it made perfect sense that rift teams would practice together before going in.

"So?"

"So they already started! It's three weeks until the raid, and they want your ass in Kessler's Reach yesterday." Hector waved a hand dismissively.

"They'll wait. Don't worry anyway; I know what to do in a rift." Grando scowled.

"I know they'll wait, because I paid the damn bits, but we need to take this shit seriously. Between that skin you're wearing and this rift access, I'm pretty damn deep into—""You're shitting me, right?" Hector leaned forward.

"That money you put down for the rift access was thanks to me. I paid for that! As for this skin —" Hector saw Britt's face, pale and lifeless; he saw the rift fiend splitting its way out of the merc he'd killed; he saw Tacitianus opening a portal to hell.

"Easy, Hector," Grando said, tamping his hands down in the air before him.

"You're right, you're right. I'm too used to dealing with scumbags like myself, okay?" As Hector began to breathe again, leaning back in the chair, Grando asked, "Seriously, though, do you think you can head out there soon?"

"After I figure out Lemon's situation."

"Right." Grando grunted, pushing himself away from his desk and standing up.

"Let's go out and wait for the boys. I'm sure some of them are already here." Hector couldn't miss the bulge of the plasma blaster inside Grando's coat. That's new.

"What's with the blaster?" Grando shrugged.

"Just a precaution—having some trouble with another crew." He snapped his fingers.

"Reminds me! I owe you for your cut of the stardust you and Orin snatched." Hector stood, shrugging.

"How much?"

"Your cut's right around 10k. I'll make you square before you leave for the Reach." Hector stared at him for a few seconds. He always felt like Grando was scheming, but what could he do? It wasn't like stealing and selling illegal chems was something he had any talent for. It wasn't like he had contacts he could call who could make connections like the ones he'd need to get into rifts.

At the thought, Grover Sparling's offer with regard to the Tharsis Games came to mind, and a new idea began to tickle the back of Hector's skull. Save it. You've got enough on your plate. His crabby inner voice was right, so Hector nodded, and together he and Grando walked over to the door. Both men looked at each other, waiting for the other to open it. Surprisingly, Grando relented, leaning forward to yank the door open.

He pushed through first, and Hector followed, listening as the boss bellowed at the men who'd begun to gather in the nearby bar area.

"When I call a meeting, that doesn't mean get piss drunk on my booze!" Hector looked over his shoulder, scanning the men. He recognized some of them, and his eyes fell on one in particular. It was Jam, slouching against the bar, one elbow on the synthetic wood top, an unlit chem-stick dangling from his teeth. He was leaning over, talking to Sass—of course. When he reached up to twist the chem-stick, his red eyes glinting in the dim light, something silver flashed.

It was a ring on Jam's pointer finger—something Hector wouldn't normally notice. In fact, if you inspected the fingers of all the men in that bar, there were probably fifty rings to look at. Even so, something made Hector notice that ring—notice the familiar skull-shaped design. He'd seen that ring many times. In fact, it had adorned his own finger for a few days. Maybe Hector had put the Berserker archetype to sleep, but that didn't matter; he'd always had an angry monster lurking beneath the surface.

He didn't try to hold it back as the world turned crimson, as his body flared with flickering red flames that flowed into his right hand, coalescing into the shape of a wicked, mirrored blade. In a single heartbeat, he was across the bar, his left hand snatching Jam's wrist, his right flicking out with that deadly edge. Blood sprayed, Jam wailed, and Hector held up the bloody finger, ring still attached.

"Where'd you get this?" he growled.