Chapter 12

5/30/119 Monday 5:30 AM

Sheffer Residence,

With the sun just peaking over the horizon, Chris stumbles out of the front door of his house. He rubs his eyes, bagged from lack of sleep. Due to the previous day’s events, he had not one but two nightmares.

He lets out a loud yawn and stretches his arms above his head. He then looks out at the field, thinking about the chores he has to do this morning, and curls his face to express his current grumpiness. Being deprived of sleep, he is far less motivated to do his chores than usual.

“I really don’t wanna. Well, I'm not repairing the field today no matter what they say. My normal chores are bad enough. Maybe I should pay Ethan to repair the field. If he can heal an arm, maybe he can heal grass.”

And on that note, he decides to stop gripping and think about which chore to accomplish first. He chooses milking, his 2nd least favorite chore, and runs over to the cow grazing area adjacent to the cratered field.

When he arrives, the cows high tail it away from him, signaling to him that they are spooked for some reason.

‘Still scared after yesterday?’ he thinks. Any animal would be scared of the person responsible for yesterday's carnage. The impacts must’ve sounded like explosions to these poor creatures.

Choosing one out of the handful of cows running away, Chris sneaks up, grabs, and lifts the entire animal onto his shoulder. He then carries it back to the milking area where the cow, carried upside down with its legs straight up in the air, suddenly finds itself back on the ground standing over a bucket.

***

One Hour Later,

Chris, after finishing his chores at incredible speed, cleans off his shoes and enters back into his house. Joe is still doing farm work and will be for the entire day while Gertrude is currently cooking breakfast.

Chris sits down at the table and stares blankly at his hands, thinking about the bullets he stopped yesterday. He notices that they are still shaking slightly from shock.

Despite me looking collected, I'm still shaken up from what happened yesterday. I thought I was fine, until I had the worst nightmare ever. I don't think I'll ever thank my alarm clock again.

His conversation with Ethan from yesterday flashes through his mind.

[Before]

“Just don’t complain if it becomes brutal.”

“I can handle it.”

“That’s what everyone says, until you puke at the first sight of a dead body.”

[Present]

‘I can’t let this get to me,’ Chris thinks to himself. ‘He warned me but I still followed him anyways. If I want to eventually explore the outside, I might have to see something like that again. Ok, if I just don’t think about it, I’ll be perfectly fine.’

Whilst he is having a deep contemplation, unbeknownst to him, Gertrude is staring intently at him with a worrisome gaze. Despite her antagonistic and childish personality, she does care for Chris quite deeply and has noticed that something is off.

He looks pale. Is he feeling okay? I hope nothing bad happened yesterday.

None of this love and concern exits her mouth.

“Oi, Chris. Don't just sit there looking like a statue. Come and dish breakfast.”

“Ok,” Chris answers and does just that, which causes Gertrude's expression to crumble. She stares at him with a scrutinizing eye.

‘Oh, something happened,’ she deduces. ‘He’s never this cooperative.. Damn …’

But then her thoughts start to slip out from her mouth in the form of muttering. “... that Ethan Blade. He better be prepared to rot in hell if anything happens to Chris. He made a good impression yesterday, but his attitude sounded mature and planned out, unlike how a young man should sound. Maybe I should …”

Chris snaps from his inner turmoil to the sound of gertrude incomprehensibly murmuring to herself.

I can't tell what she's muttering about, but the poor bastard on the receiving end is in for a ... shit ... storm?

Then a concerning thought dawns on him and cold sweat forms on his forehead.

I ... I'm not the poor bastard ... right? Have I done anything wrong? Well, yes … all of yesterday. Did she find out?!

Unwilling to stay and discover the truth, he takes his now dished breakfast and sneakily makes his way out of the kitchen to his room.

***

6:35 AM

Rose Hotel - Ethan’s Room,

Inside the dark hotel room, the curtains shut to block out the early morning light, Ethan meditates on top of his bed. Like before, a white aura surrounds while he Hinsates.

Ever since my battle with Chris, my Geinta has strengthened tremendously. Even if I cultivated all day for the last 3 days, I wouldn't have improved this much. I haven’t grown this fast since my intense combat training with Genku.

Geinta can be improved gradually by Hinsating, the practice of circulating, flexing and straining your energy. However, Geinta strengthens much faster during combat where one is pushing it to its max. This is why many Awakened seek out conflict, as to bolster their Geinta’s growth.

While he is Hinsating, suddenly, a voice transmits through the SDC sitting next to him on the bed. To clarify, an officer brought him this device last night to replace the one he broke. This way, the Sheriff could still keep in contact.

“H-hello,” says a meek voice through the SDC. “Mister Hunter. Sorry to disturb you at such an early hour. Are you awake?”

“Speak,” Ethan replies, picking up the device.

“Y-yes sir! The sheriff wants to see you right now. It's extremely urgent. Can you c ... please come down to Rapier street as soon as possible?”

Rapier Street ...?

“Sure. My ETA is 15 minutes.”

“Thank you! I will tell the Sheriff. Sorry to disturb you!”

Ethan sighs, shrugging off the officer's obvious anxiety towards him. With this change in plans, he uncrosses his legs and stands up off his bed.

Rapier street, huh? Where is that?

He quickly puts on clothes and whips out a map provided by the Hotel, which he quickly scans over to find the street he’s searching for. Knowing his destination, he slides his sword’s strap over his shoulder and takes off out of the window, Shan Stepping across the building rooftops to Rapier Street.

***

Rapier Street, 6:54 AM

Arriving atop a building on Rapier Street, he looks down on the scene to find a handful of run-down police cars huddled around an alleyway. He spots the Sheriff, who appears to be waiting, and jumps down to the ground to make his way over.

As he approaches the yellow tape blocking off the area, a policeman holds up his hand to stop him.

“Hey, sir, I’m going to need you to …”

Ethan, paying no attention to the Officer, Shan Steps past him, disappearing from his line of sight. Stunned, he swings his head around to see the Sheriff and Ethan greet each other with a nod, although the Sheriff seems slightly startled by Ethan's sudden appearance.

“Oh,” escapes his mouth, realising who he just tried to stop. Meanwhile, as Ethan is greeted, he detects a heaviness in the air, having noticed the expression of the policeman around him.

“I'm glad you’re here,” the Sheriff tells him, his voice sounding quite burdened. “Well, I know it's not your job but, can I hire you to solve a case with me?”

“Sure, but why do you need my help?” Ethan asks in response.

“Cause we have no detectives in this town. All of us are all normal Officers. And now I've just lost 5.”

“Lost 5 .. officers?”

“Y-yes.”

Confirming Ethan’s guess, he falls silent for a moment, trying to suppress his grief.

“I'm sorry. I've been to 3 of these crime scenes already, and have been informed about the other 2. I have known these guys for years. To see them lifeless with broken necks is disturbing.”

Ethan’s face twitches having received such information. Something has caught his attention.

“Do they all have broken necks?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Hm. Alright, let me see the body.”

The Sheriff steps into the alleyway and leads him to the body. Upon seeing it, he shifts his gaze elsewhere to avoid the sight of a dead friend while Ethan stares intently, bending down to examine the neck.

Looking for a few seconds, he then reaches to move the head with his bare hand.

“Gloves!” shouts the coroner. “You need gloves.”

Ethan snarks at this comment. Instead of direct contact, he extends his hand out flat a foot over the deceased man’s face. Suddenly, five white translucent strings extend from his fingertips and attach to the face’s skin.

[Creation Geinta: Puppet Strings]

These strings are made from precise Geinta manipulation. Observing him, the Sheriff, Coroner, and policemen at the scene all gasped in astonishment as Ethan slowly lifts the man’s head using these strings. He tilts and maneuvers the head in various directions, attempting to look at the hand marks on the neck.

“Coroner, did you find anything bizarre about the bruising of the neck?” Ethan asks.

“The pattern was quite strange. It looks as if someone did this with a single hand.”

“Exactly,” Ethan says, nodding his head. “He was killed with one hand.”

To this, the Sheriff’s eyes widen in realising, but the Coroner is skeptical. He shakes his head at the statement.

“That can’t be. I can imagine strangulation with a single hand but to snap the neck this cleanly would be impossible.”

“I could do it if I wanted to.” Ethan stares at the Coroner as if he’s an ignorant fool. “You don’t experience much of the outside world, do you? If one is an Awakened, it would be a fairly simple task to break a neck of a regular person.”

Realisation strikes the Coroner as well, while the Sheriff starts muttering to himself under his breath. In the midst of this mumbling, Ethan hears him snarl these words.

“Fucking Awakened.”

Ethan thinks back to the Sheriff’s previous attitude towards the Awakened and compares it to this moment.

Even he’s starting to believe in the prejudice this Territory holds. Well, it's understandable considering a handful of his friends were killed.

Cutting off the mumbling, he asks him a question about the policeman's identity.

“Sheriff, this man was at the park yesterday, right?”

“Yes, he was.”

“Were all of the deceased at the park yesterday?”

“Y-yes, they were.” he answers, his eyes wide with shock once more.

Ethan’s demeanor sharpens. “So that’s it. The Ghosts are targeting the policeman from the park yesterday.”

“Shit,” the Sheriff mumbles. “Why would they do that? I can’t think of a single reason to do so.”

Ethan ponders to himself, running through a list of their possible motives. He discards the notion of revenge, as killing small town cops is irrational and brings no benefit, even assuming they are angry. Systematic, clean killings, in dark alleys with the bruising on the neck indicating that the hand has grasping from behind means that revenge, or a sort of message, is highly unlikely.

In fact, the method of killing would be fantastic for interrogation, holding the policemen hostage from behind in order for them to answer questions.

“Maybe they were after information,” Ethan suggests, “but if that’s the case, what did they want to know?”

***

Rapier St Alleyway

11 Hours Ago,

A police officer walks down the street on his way home from work and cuts into the alleyway for a smoke. This is a usual routine of his while on his commute home. Entering the alleyway, he stops in his tracks and pulls out his cigarettes.

Before lighting one, he considers abstaining for the moment to conserve the pack. This is because the price of cigarettes has skyrocketed because shipping between Territories has become much more difficult due to road bandits.

However, he gives into his bad habit and lights one up. Taking in a deep breath of the smoke, a wave of relief engulfs as the nicotine enters his system. He stands still, staring at the alleyway wall as he enjoys the peace and quiet before returning home to his wife and kids.

As he does so, he fails to notice a man rising out of the concrete behind him, like a ghost passing through walls. This mysterious figure, once fully risen from the ground, reaches out with his left hand and grabs the officer's neck.

The officer, reacting quickly, drops the cigarette from his mouth and reaches for his gun on instinct, only to find it absent from its holster.

Click.

The sound of the gun cocks from behind his head. His mind scrambles, trying to understand how he didn’t notice his own pistol being snatched off his person. Now that his own firearm has turned against him, his breathing intensifies as he puts his hands up.

“Please don't kill me,” he says in a calm and collected voice, despite how frightened he actually is.

“That is up to you,” the voice from behind replies. The officer might not recognize who is currently threatening him, but this person is Alex Spencer, the leader of the Ghosts.

He continues, “Answer my questions diligently and I won't harm a hair on that balding head of yours.”

He nods in response to the man’s words, his heart pounding faster than it has in years. Wasting no time, the first question is asked.

“First, were you at the park today?”

“Riverdale park? Yes.”

“Good,” Alex responds. “Next question, what is the bounty hunter's identity?”

To this, the officer freezes. “I-I don't know. I don't even think the Sheriff knows.”

“That’s fine. I actually don’t care who he is. How about this? Where do I find him? Where does he rest his head at night?”

“I don’t know that either.”

Alex makes a disgruntled noise, which causes the officer’s heart to beat even faster. He suddenly notices his cigarette starting to burn a piece of trash next to his foot, but he ignores it.

“Who's the kid with him?” Alex asks.

“Kid?”

“Don't play dumb. There was a scrawny kid with glasses. His shirt was all torn up. Who is he?”

He’s right. The officer was playing dumb and knows exactly which ‘kid’ he’s talking about.

That was the Sheffer boy. He's a good kid who goes to school with my daughter. I can't sell him out.

“I still don't know,” he answers. “Sheriff kept it under wraps because he was a friend of the bounty hunter. I’m sorry.”

“Tsk.” Alex clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Well you weren't any help.”

“Please don’t kill me,” he pleads, a tear dripping down his face. “I’m sorry I don’t know anything. I have a family at home. Please don't take me away from them.”

Alex sighs. “That’s nice and all, but I’m doing this for my family as well.”

An instant later, Alex quickly snaps the Officer’s neck with only his left hand before releasing his grip of the body as it falls limp. Alex looks at his right hand, which holds the pistol he swiped.

Good thing I can snap a neck with my bare hands. The last thing I need is to draw attention by firing a gun in the middle of a small town.

He only used the gun for a threat, as it is undoubtedly more frightening than a hand. He bends down and slides the pistol back into the policeman’s holster before leaving the scene.

I still have a few others to do tonight. That list the first one gave us was longer than I thought I’d be for this small town. I better hurry it up. I don’t want to do this all night.

***

4 hours before that,

Abandoned Housing District, Ghost’s Base,

Alex takes a deep breath before addressing the group, his eyes sparkling with resolve.

“In all honesty, I would like to grab the girls and sneak away, but he’ll never let that happen. Instead, as impossible as it sounds, I'm going to kill that bounty hunter and then take back Guzel and Faith, even if I have to do it alone. It’s the only way we all make it out of here.”

To this declaration, the first to speak is Steffan, how confidently proclaims,

“Alex, I will help in any way I can.”

After him, Jarvis steps forward as well and says, “Though my assistance will mostly likely be minimal, I will help also.”

Alex smiles at Jarvis' comment, thinking to be too modest. His friend continues, addressing the remaining two who have yet to say anything.

“I think we all stand with Mr. Arngrimmson when he says we'll help,” Jarvis says, suggestively glaring at Charlotte and Ulrike.

“Alright, fine,” Ulrike groans. “I'll do it.”

“And what about miss Charlotte?”

To his question, she casually pushes her hair behind her ear and answers,

“If Alex goes, then I go.”

Alex smiles, pleased with their answers. To be perfectly honest, he knew from the start what their answers would be. He knew, for a fact, that Jarvis would support any decision he makes, as his best friend is long since used to his free spirited, reckless behavior.

He was confident that Steffan would also agree, as Steffan, despite his mother-bear personality, was once a ruthless mercenary. He wouldn’t flinch in the face of adversity. Hell, the first time he met him was when the man tried to kill him in a bar over a slight disagreement. He can be quite merciless when necessary.

Ulrike, although he puts up a tough and sarcastic front, genuinely cares about everyone in the group. He’s just a pessimistic realist, since he grew up a petty thief. However, at the end of the day, there’s no way he wouldn’t back down from following Alex into danger, especially with the rest of the group around.

Lastly, Charlotte would follow Alex to his death if he asked her. He and Jarvis met her while pulling a job a few years back. In the midst of performing a theft from a Conqueror's safe, she actually decided to shoot up his mansion in order to get her baby back, which the Conqueror had stolen from her while claiming it to be his.

In the end, the baby was killed during the confusion and she, in the process, lost the will to live. Alex, having killed the Conqueror and given her revenge, she now possesses undying loyalty to him. He fully expected her to agree to the plan once he declared he would be going.

“Thanks guys,” Alex says. “Now, what should we do?

“YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A PLAN!?” Ulrike shouts.

“I made my resolve on the spot,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Doesn't mean I thought out the details.”

His words evoke a loud, disappointed sigh from Ulrike.

“May I suggest dealing with the young man with glasses first.” proposes Jarvis. “They seem to pose much more of a threat while together. In other words, divide and conquer.”

“Ok, but we don't even know who he is” - Ulrike.

“What if we sneak into that tiny city hall they have and look him up?” - Steffan.

“That'll take way too long. We'll have been caught by the time we find his file. If he even has one” - Alex.

“Ok, so what do you suggest?” - Steffan.

“May I suggest another idea,” says Jarvis, speaking up once more. “There are but few Policemen in this territory. We should interrogate one and confirm if they were present at the shooting.

“If that is the case, we then ask if they know the identity of the young man. If they do, our work is done. If they don’t, we have them give a list of those on duty during the shooting. We then find and ask all who are on said list until we are given a name.”

“And once we know who he is?”

“Then we can easily find this kid's address and kill him in his sleep. That should also cause the bounty hunter to act irrationally out of rage. Two birds, one stone.”

Alex smirks, finding his friend's suggestion satisfactory.

“Jarvis, that's not a bad plan. Just time consuming.”

“We are not hard pressed.”

“That's true,” Alex says before addressing the rest of the group “Needless to say, after questioning the cops, kill them. Less cops means less trouble for us.”

***

Rapier St.

Present,

Ethan, after sorting through the list of facts in his mind, he arrives at a few conclusions for the Ghosts killing spree. One such possibly prompts to turn towards the Sheriff and request,

“Just in case they come after the kid, post officers at the high school. I doubt they'll target him, and even if they do, I doubt he’ll need help, but still …”

“Got it.”

Ethan turns his attention back to the body and sees the coroner examining the victims face for marks left by the Geinta strings. Ethan knows he won’t find any and ignores him. Instead, thinking of the possibility in which the Ghosts are targeting Chris, he looks in the direction of the kid's house.

The possibility of that is extremely slim. But, it never hurts to check.

He abruptly leaves the scene, confusing the Sheriff greatly, and heads in the direction of the Sheffer residence. If the Ghosts are targeting Chris and they have discovered who he is, it’s possible they could have found out where he lives as well.

If they struck at him while he was asleep, then there’s a real possibility he could have been killed. He wouldn’t sense an incoming attack while unconscious. After all, he’s still a defenceless kid who hasn’t built up any sort of survival instinct.

Thus, he sprints down the street at a speed faster than anyone in town can comprehend in order to check on the teen’s well being.