He had already made it a good couple of blocks away, but Gervyl’s strength was waning at an alarming rate. His muscles screamed in agony and bowels twisted like a tangle of snakes. But worst of all was the killer headache, like getting one’s skull cracked open with a rusty pickaxe. He had overextended himself beyond what he was usually comfortable with when using his psionic powers and now he was paying the price. The Amber at the base of his skull was still faintly glowing, giving off excessive amounts of heat. It felt like it was boiling his brain from the inside, but at that time he had no other choice but to resort to composing. He would have been killed by that lunatic otherwise. He panicked and overdid it…

“Shit,” he hissed to himself, pushing forwards with his tail between his legs through a crowd of curious pedestrians, who wanted to see the extent of the destruction he’d left behind. “Good,” he thought. “The more people between me and him, the better,” groans of pain escaped his mouth as he looked for a dark hole to hide in, knowing full well that he wouldn’t find a room in time. He wanted to curse this damn city and his terrible luck, but he bit his tongue. Perhaps he had made his own bed when he stole that bag.

He swerved to the side, making a dive into a side alley where he saw no people. Bags of trash littered the ground and water from broken pipes trickled down the rusty walls, but it seemed safe enough. Safest so far, at least. But his time was up. With the last of his strength failing and his consciousness fading, he plunged face first into a pile of trash bags with a loud thud, his body going numb from exhaustion.

In an instant his mind was pulled into the darkness of an ever familiar dream. A vision of boundless void, as suffocating as it was calming. His numb body drifted aimlessly in its cold embrace, slowly falling deeper and deeper into the never ending abyss, like a feather taken by the breeze into the unknown. Right into the swarm of shadowy figures.

They were shapeless, their very presence blurred by the darkness as they squirmed and thrashed wildly, melting into a chaotic mass of nothingness. They circled him as his life drained, predators ready to pounce. Slowly, meticulously they tightened their grip on him. But they never rushed in, impatiently waiting at the edge of the light. The warm glow of many flames that now circled Gervyl’s body. The beasts feared the fires as they lashed out at them with their burning hot tongues, as to counter the creatures’ advances. But the wisps, too, were slowly fading, growing weaker with each outburst, merely delaying the inevitable. One by one they were devoured.

Before long only the smallest and the meekest of the flames remained. Barely even a spark, it stubbornly refused to go into the night. It was Gervyl’s flame, beating weakly in his chest. A mere glint in the vast, unforgiving ocean of darkness. It trembled as the creatures closed in, but this fear gave birth to something much greater. Something astonishing. In a glorious blaze, like the rising sun after the longest of nights, the flame burst with determination, driving the creatures back, if only for a split second. A single second, before waning again. That was the extent of his current strength. The extent of his life.

At last, it disappeared from sight… But didn’t fade. Hidden between two smooth, ivory hands it lived yet, saved by a merciful goddess, an avatar of beauty. Her hair, woven from the night itself floated gently in the waves as she laid on him her eyes, glittering like the stars on the night sky. In her gaze he saw hope… Or perhaps he just saw his own reflection. Her tender lips opened.

“Are you done napping, or do I have to give you a little wake-up kick?” asked an alien, distorted voice through the goddess’s mouth.

“What?” mumbled Gerv in his confusion, as the world around him crumbled to dust.

“Alright, a kick it is,” he heard the voice again, this time clear as day. His heart kicked into overdrive as his brain finally processed the sentence, abruptly pulling him back into the waking world.

Just in time to intercept the incoming foot centimeters away from his stomach.

“What in the gods’…” he tried to yell, but the force of the impact squeezed the breath out of him, even though he thought he blocked in time. He rolled off the side of the garbage pile, wheezing and choking on air. “What the hell, lady? You looking for trouble?” he asked angrily, still groggy and in pain. In the corner of his eye seeing a tapping foot.

“Well aren’t you a precious little thing?” she asked sarcastically. “How about a good morning? A ‘How are you?’ Maybe an introduction?” she continued in a mocking tone.

“Don’t mess with me, woman, or…” he growled grumpily, his head still splitting in half. He mustered his strength and propped himself up on his previous bed of trash, but before he could get off the ground, she gave him a light kick from behind, sending him back into the pile. She then flipped him on his back and planted her foot on his chest, firmly pressing him down.

“Or what?” she interrupted him. “What are you going to do to me?” she pressed him, looking deep into his soul with a pair of magnificent blue eyes, her pitch black bangs almost touching his face.

“What the hell do you even want?” he groaned after a second, stunned briefly by her beauty. Was she a prostitute looking for clients? Doubtful. Perhaps a scammer? But why would she want to scam someone sleeping in the dump? Besides, extortion seemed to be a more fitting name for what was occurring.

“Well, a ‘thank you’ would be a good start,” she pouted, confusing Gerv even further.

“A thank you for what? For assaulting me, or for dirtying my shirt?” he rebuked, trying to push her shoe off his chest, with little success.

“You were plenty dirty already when I found you!” she exclaimed. “You should feel grateful. Blessed, even, for all this time I’ve wasted on watching you snooze! If not for me you could have already been robbed…”

“I have no money…” he interjected in a monotone voice.

“Or assaulted…” she enumerated, raising fingers as she did.

“Oh, the irony…” he shook his head, almost cracking a smile.

“Or even killed by somebody! Organ traders stalk these alleys all the time.”

“And what would you have done to stop them?” he inquired with a serious look in his eyes.

“Beat ‘em up!” she flexed her thin bicep with a smug expression.

He laid there for a few moments, pondering her reply in silence and then just chuckled, feeling his headache lift just a tiny bit. “Alright, I think I believe you,” he rested his head on the garbage-filled pillow, digesting her words. “Thanks,” he said a bit half-heartedly, but with enough sincerity to appease the she-demon. For now.

“That’s more like it,” she stepped off at last, even extending a hand to help Gerv up. She didn’t wait for him to take it, though, as he was taking way too long. Instead she just grabbed his arm and, with very little effort, pulled him up to a standing position.

“Whoa!” gasped the man, feeling a burst of adrenaline. “Did I lose some weight?”

“You do look pretty thin,” she replied, rubbing her chin, looking him up and down. “And pretty beat up, too.”

“Oh, that’s just how I usually look,” he joked, glancing towards the alley’s exit. But just as he took a step forwards, she jumped in front of him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ve got business to do, believe it or not… And it’s on the more time-sensitive side, too,” he tried to go around her, but she stopped him again.

“Now hold up a second,” she commanded. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Look, lady. I’m sorry for your lost time, but I already told you that I have no money,” he shook his head.

“Oh, I know. I already patted you down.”

“Huh?” he raised a brow in disbelief.

“… For weapons. I wouldn’t want you waking up and shooting me, or worse!” she quickly clarified, not that it made the situation much better.

“Right…” his doubts were growing by the second, and he couldn’t simply keep his mouth shut, so he asked. “What is it that you want, then?”

“Your name, obviously.”

He gave her a look, as if asking if she was okay in the head.

“What, just because we are on Porriga, common courtesy doesn’t apply?” She asked, making her annoyance very apparent.

She leaned forwards just a bit, letting her long, wavy hair fall from her shoulders like two jet black waterfalls, contrasting with her modest, pinkish-red dress, and poked his chest with a finger, getting dangerously close. From this distance her beautiful blue eyes and luscious lips were even more alluring than Gerv initially thought. She was beautiful. Too beautiful for this island. Worse still, she was his exact type, save for the character. And even it had a charm of its own. He knew she was trouble, his gut told him so, and that’s why he was in a hurry to get away. But there she stood, an insurmountable obstacle, right in front of him.

“Name’s Gervyl,” he blurted out hesitantly, unable to quickly make up some fake name.

She smiled, childlike glee showing on her face. “I like that. ‘Gervyl.’ I’m Verris.”

“Verris, huh?” an idea popped up in his head. “Means ‘mirage’ in Doran, if I’m not mistaken,” he nodded to himself. “That’s a very beautiful name,” he faked a smile, poorly, and added: “Almost as dazzling as you are,” he sold her a cheesy line and whether it charmed her or made her cringe, it mattered not. It made her hesitate for a moment, letting Gerv squeeze by her.

It didn’t deter her from following him, though, as he made his way towards one of the main streets.

“And what does your name mean?” she prodded, sticking close by, going almost shoulder to shoulder with the mercenary.

“I don’t think it means anything. It just rolls off the tongue nicely, so people call me that,” he didn’t seem very interested in further discussion.

“And who are those ‘people’?” she inquired, jumping out of the dark alley and turning around.

“They know who they are,” he scoffed dismissively, stepping into the neon lights, turning away from the girl. Not a single ray of sunshine pierced through the cable ceiling above. He must have been out for a couple of hours.

“Did those guys rough you up like that?” she stuck to him like a shadow. A very talkative one at that.

“I just got served some pain and excitement,” he smirked, thinking about Sildor’s words.

“If that excites you…” Gervyl thought he saw the woman shudder a bit, but maybe that was just his imagination. “I won’t judge, but you should really take care of those wounds.”

“The ones you just tried to add to? I’ll put some spit on them and lay down for a bit. The sailor’s way, or so I was told.”

“If you are looking for something better than a garbage heap, I think I can be of help.”

“I doubt you can offer me anything more comfortable.”

“You are pretty weird.”

“Look who’s talking.” He rolled his eyes.

“So what are you doing on Porriga? Your first time?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“The scammers around these parts could probably see you from a mile away, that’s how bad it is.”

“I know a guy who could see me from up to five miles, so it’s not that big of an accomplishment, really…” he briefly cracked a smile. “ So what gave me away?” he asked without giving it much thought, while trying to piece together where exactly he ended up running to earlier in a panic.

“Not just one thing, I guess. Just the way you are?” she got in front again, glancing back from time to time.

“Very helpful.”

“Stiff,” She snapped her fingers. “And sober.”

“I see how it is. You are making fun of me,” he finally caught on.

“A little. I wanted to loosen you up a bit.”

“Plenty of ‘girls’ tried earlier today, mostly with sweet words and copious amounts of alcohol. But as you may have already noticed, I’m not one to give into vices... easily,” he sighed. “So what else do you want?”

“Excuse me?” she flinched.

“There must be a reason why you are still following me. I gave you my name already, did I not?”

“There’s no reason. Seems like we are just going in the same direction,” she came to a halt and turned around to show a mischievous grin

“What a coincidence…” he mumbled, not really buying it. He took a sharp turn to the left, hoping to lose her, but she didn’t seem to mind and continued her march, two steps behind him.

“So what’s this ‘business’ you were talking about?”

“Nasty stuff. Too nasty to even begin describing.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Maybe that’s what I want you to think,” he shrugged. “Besides, aren’t you scared, bothering a complete stranger like that?”

“What should I be afraid of?”

“I could be leading you into some secluded place to jump you.”

“Right…” she seemed unbothered. “In that case, all I would have to do is beat some sense into you.”

“Well, aren’t you feisty?”

“Porrigans need to show some spine from time to time if they want to survive,” she patted him on the back, a little too strongly for his liking.

“Is that an advice?” he swerved to the side again, each turn like that leading him further away from the hustle and bustle of the main streets, into the more calm, residential district.

“Can be. The second one is ‘be brave, but not stupid,’” she furrowed her brow a little. “So who gave you this beating. Don’t be shy, I won’t laugh.”

“Am I supposed to know? That a Porrigan custom? To introduce yourself to the person you are assaulting?” suddenly, he grew tired of this conversation, the memory of the horned bastard souring his mood. “Some crazy mutant. ‘Yadar’ or some such.”

“Hold it!” she exclaimed, grabbing him by the back of his coat, almost making him fall. “You are the guy everyone’s been talking about?”

“Oh, great. Did I make a name for myself as a splendid punching bag?”

“This is incredible!” she gasped, half amazed, half worried. “You have no idea how lucky you are to even be standing!”

“Did I win a lottery? Was the prize a bone fracture and a concussion?”

She frantically looked around and pushed Gerv against a wall, as if to hide him from sight. Her strength was inhuman, even though she was neither a mutant, nor a cyborg as far as Gerv could tell.

“Just a couple of bruises is considered a miracle when you butt heads with Yadar,” she said in a hushed voice.

“Hey, easy!” he yelped, feeling his sore muscles flare up again. “Is he some sort of a big shot around these parts?”

“You have no idea. He’s one of the syndicate bosses. The biggest of shots. Lower districts practically belong to him.”

“Excellent. Will be easy to find him once I patch myself up. Have a ‘friendly chat’ about this little prank he pulled on me, and a couple of other subjects,” images of Ambers resting in this maniac’s hand flashed in Gerv’s mind.

“Listen to me. Leave the island, today if you can, tomorrow morning at the latest,” concern spread over her face in a matter of seconds.

He stared into her eyes for a moment, then sighed. “Let me go,” he tapped her thin arms, with which she was pinning him to a wall.

“Will you leave from here?”

“Obviously not,” he ducked, escaping her grasp and continuing his stride. “I came here with a goal in mind. Leaving is not an option.”

“Yadar doesn’t leave any business unfinished.”

“And neither do I, you can trust me on that.”

“Why are you so hellbent on staying?”

“And why do you care?” he finally put into words what was bothering him this whole conversation. A moment passed in silence. “I get it, you are a very nice girl. A bit out there, but nice. You made that much clear, but why would you care about someone you just met?”

“This is what I do on this island. I help people in need.”

“Why?”

“Because… if I don’t do it, then who will?”

“Listen to me, girl… No, Verris. Maybe it is you who should get out of this city? It doesn’t deserve you anyways.”

“Look…” her voice seemed a little distant. Gerv took a peek back and saw her leaning against a big metal door. “I was serious when I told you that you could stay the night. We help all kinds of people.”

“Is this where you’ve been leading me?”

“So you noticed?”

“Took me a while.”

The building Verris was about to enter wasn’t anything special. Same old rusty scrap that made up the rest of the city was standing before him, molded into a form. The one difference was in the lights. The place lacked the false neon promise of thrilling nights, instead giving off a warm, homely glow from each of its windows. Above the door frame was a single word, engraved in a metal plate. Tereta, meaning home, or a safe harbor in Doran.

“Won’t you at least let me dress your wounds?”

“I’ll lick them in some dark corner somewhere. Don’t worry, I’ve been through worse,” he assured, barely managing not to cave to his desire to stay. No more debts, he thought to himself. “I’m a magnet for trouble, though. I’m sure you’ll find me again on some trash heap eventually, so maybe next time..”

“… I just hope you’ll still be alive when I do. Humans are so… frail, after all,” there was sadness in her voice, but she would not force herself on the man any further.

“Don’t bully strangers, lest they bite back.” He laughed to lift the mood as he turned to take his leave.

“Stay safe out there.”