The Kin

"Good morning." The pale lady said in a faint whisper that felt far away. Everything was pale, and everything was blurry, like a dream.

"Why did you leave?" Now that woman looked closer than he imagined. He reached out, wanting to stroke her golden blonde hair one last time. He didn't know why. An aching feeling in his heart told him to.

"They're here, and it's all your fault." Though he knew the lady was angry, her voice still seemed angelic, like a light touch to cure a wound.

His fault? He thought. "N-N...No..." He felt his fingers tremble, struggling to get the words out, as the feeling of purity had faded around him.

"Fix it, fix them, find me, find us!" And she turned around before he could grab her one last time.

There was no longer a white like he imagined, there was only his arm outstretched in front of him, and his mouth gaping, his eyes longing, and he collapsed.

***

"Carla..." I hear myself groan. A slippery feeling slides down my cheek and rests on my arm.

"Ugh..." I look towards it. "What the...fuck?" No...no that's saliva. Gross. My arm is outstretched in front of me, like I'm reaching for someone. Carla...

Well, I'm too lazy to move anyway. Where am I, exactly? Huh. Next to me, no...all around me is sand. Why is there sand all around me? Is it another dust storm? Is that what happened?

"Ca...Carla?" I say again. Who was Carla? Carla...I don't know who you are, but every time I say it, or even think the name, my heart races, and that inexplicable feeling of desire and purpose comes to my mind.

My eyes widen. No way...I'm outside?! I push myself up, and the dust and the sand all around me fall like a shedding dog. The winds are pushing harder at my back, and then in front of me, there come more sand.

"Shit!" I fall back on my ass. Another wave of sand whirling in through all directions. I look at all directions, and all around me is just the infinite patch of sand.

I'm in the Outlands. The Outlands...really? I don't remember going out from town. I look down at myself, where are most of my clothes? All I have on me is a shirt, boxers, and slippers. Did my hair grow? I can't remember anything.

A weird, brown figure in the distance catches my eye. I walk towards it, covering my mouth and squinting my eyes. A storm is brewing, and I better get somewhere before I get caught up in the middle of it.

A flash of light strikes me again, and the figure slowly appears to be...a person.

"Carla!" At this point, I don't even care if the sand is attacking me in all four directions. My legs carry me and I reach out to grab her back. Her golden hair, her hazel eyes, her clear complexion and her skinny figure, Carla...

I grab her jacket, but it wasn't who I was looking for...Carla. In fact, it isn't even a person, it's just a fucking cactus.

"Ha..." I laugh to myself. "I really am going crazy." I take the jacket for myself, and I put it on. This must be mine.

I trudge along, there should be some sort of town nearby. I can't survive here for long. It's hot, it's dusty, it's windy, and there's a storm brewing. Everything's hazy, and everything out here can either kill you for food, or kill you for sport.

j u s t  l i k e  y o u

I at least remember that.

Carla...I look at my jacket one more time. Inside the jacket is are two C's, one Z and one R. Carla...Casey...Rylanders. Carla Rylander. Carla, my beloved sister. My name is Carter, I know that. Carter Rylander. And Casey, my niece.

"Don't leave me!"

"I won't."

"Find me."

Mianna. The Village of Mianna. How do I get there? Well, I sure as hell know that thinking to myself won't get me anywhere. I look around, no trails of anything, no footsteps, no wagon wheels, no nothing. The storm's hitting harder, and the sun's beating down on my skin making me sweat a ton more than I need to.

I reach into my coat pocket. The soft silk of a handkerchief I once held laces onto my fingers, and I put it over my nose and mouth. Better than nothing.

For a while, there will be nothing but sand and dust spewing in my faces, and there will be nothing but death if I continue this pace.

"Oi?!" I hear someone shout. "Oi!" They shout louder. I look to my right, and collapse yet again.

"Aye!" A figure runs up to me, and he puts his arm around my shoulder keeping me up. "Hey, are you alright? Marco, get him some milk." He looks to me straight in the eyes. "You'll be fine."

Tall man, slim figure, funny outfits all with a matching vest and wearing no shoes...it all looks ridiculous, but ridiculously familiar. His hair is plain white, and particularly disheveled. Another figure, only shorter, but a little more buff, which I can only assume is Marco, hands the man a bottle of milk and he opens my mouth to make me drink.

I take the bottle before his hand and finish all of it myself, not knowing that I was this dehydrated. I'm too far gone, I must've been.

"Alright, I'm gonna get you inside the wagon, now, can you walk?" He asks me.

I nod furiously, my head feeling like it's cut off from the rest of my body. "Well alright, come on." He grunts, lifting me up and helping me walk to the wagon. Except, not only is there one wagon, there are four, all decorated with scrapped junk and cows pushing the wagons instead of horses.

Gypsies, most probably.

He lifts me up into the back wagon, and he gets in, himself, only to be the one directing the cows. I look around me and it's all traveling supplies, trinkets, and adventure milestones in the form of an object. Definitely gypsies.

"Alright, let's get a move on then." The man yells. Everything I need is in here:  milk, a wagon, some food, a knife. A knife, right there, on the wall, as a sort of trophy. If I could reach it...

"We don't see many people in the Outlands, and definitely not any whom are basically naked besides a jacket." The man states.

He looks to me. "So what is it, huh? Runnin' away?" I don't answer. I don't even know myself, but I'm sure I must've. "Don't talk? Fine." He sighs. "Name's Jackson, by the way."

I still don't talk. My eyes fixate on the knife. I need that knife. From a mirror in the front of the wagon, his eyes wander onto the knife itself. "That there's my grandpa's pride. Though he used it to kill, we don't do any of that anymore. I hope you understand that, as well."

I don't answer.

"That's a nice way to thank your saviors, I'll bet, by killing them."

Gypsy.

"Well..." Jackson sighs. "You best get some rest. We'll be nearin' town in a few hours."

I lift myself up. "What town?"

"So he talks?" He glances at me worriedly. "Reebus."

The slums. Reebus, my hometown, the one place that I fuckin' hate. I remember that, definitely. Surviving's much harder than dying, and they blame me for stirring up shit when that shit was eventually going to stir itself up anyway.

"What, you from there?" No answer. "You only talk when it's convenient for you." He scoffs. "Go on and sleep then, go ahead, you won't be dead in the morning like I know we would be if you didn't sleep."

Yeah, it sure has been a while, I'm guessing, since I last been there. Two happy decades? I'm the Kin, the serial killer, and I'm coming back.

Every killer's got a hometown.

***

It's been a few hours, I'm pretty sure. The knife's still there, and for some reason these Gypsies trust me. Good, I can use that to my advantage.

I need to go home. I need to find Carla, and I need to find Casey, there's no way I'm going back into that town without being recognized or hung up and burned. It's a wonder how these Gypsies are accepted into The Slums, but much has changed over the years, I'm sure.

They need me there. If I don't have them with me then who's going to take care of them? there's no one else but me. I know, The Kin now suddenly has a heart...and he now suddenly cares about people.

Maybe it's true.

Or maybe you lazy worrisome working-class fuckers that don't know shit actually can guess this answer correctly.

I start to remember it...I was running from something. Someone else that wanted to kill me. I'm the most powerful man there ever was, so knowing I had to run from something, or maybe someone actually got to me, really pisses me the fuck off.

A shadow passes the wagon, and I close my eyes. In front of that shadow are the Gypsies gathering and chatting, taking stock of every essential supply they have left. And at the center of it all is Jackson and people protesting. I listen in, pretending I'm still asleep.

"...Not good here, Jackie! He's dangerous!" A woman, tall and red haired complains.

"Eh? Dangerous? I don't think so. There's no reason for him to harm us anyway, he looks too out of it. I mean, just look at the guy." I feel their eyes on me. "He's knocked out."

"Listen to me, Jackie!" She sounds desperate, grabbing his cravat. "No one goes out here on their own. I think he was running from something. And when you run, you bring danger with you. Ain't that enough reason!"

"Quiet, Lana! We don't have evidence that he's a criminal."

"Criminal or not, I say we stake him!" An older woman pitches in.

"Make him bait for our next meal!" An older man adds in.

I hear Jackson grunt. "What did I say, huh? We are not like Esmit!" The chatter dies down. "We all agreed we're not going back those times, it's what made Harley quit, what made her run away with that idiot, evil brother of hers."

"Tch." The older man scoffs. "We all know she didn't quit because of that."

"But what we did...what we were...ugh." He sighs. "It doesn't matter. We're gonna show people we're kinder now, and no one has to fight us."

"Not to mention they're not strong enough to." Another boy quietly adds in.

"What the fuck did I just say, huh?" Jackson growls. "Don't let our strength get to your head. Even at our best we still lose a lot of good folk. We're gonna let this man be, we're gonna clothe him, we're gonna feed him, and we're gonna bring him home to let him start a life, aight?"

I take a peek and open my eyes slightly. Marco puts his hand on Jackson's shoulder and says, "We all know it, Jackson, but that doesn't mean we don't have the right to be concerned."

"That's right! He looked familiar, like an old face from town." The old woman scratches her chin. "Like...Kin."

"Kin? That was a long time ago, Nani, what makes you think he'll be back here. Besides, it didn't look like him anyway. Your vision's blurred." The boy disbelieves.

"You shut your trap, Bing, I know what I'm talking about. You all know what he looks like, Kin, why don't you go ahead and check him then. He's asleep, right?"

"Hey, did he say he was from Reebus?" Marco asks.

Jackson shakes his head. "No...but he never said he wasn't from Reebus, either..." He sighs. "Marco, why don't you go check on him. Give us the signal, okay? Come on, a storm's brewing and I wanna get home as fast as we can."

"You want me to be careful er hasty?" Marco questions.

"Oh Christ, Marco, it's just a peek, we can't spend time on this man's innocence, don't you wanna see Harley?" He asks.

Marco looks away. "Yer benefit of the doubt thing may not always be the best idea. There's time before the storm, besides, I'm not so sure she'll want to visit us with him around."

"Make sure it ain't the other way around, now. They're both good kids." He pats his back. "Come on, let's get a move on."

"Okay, I'll give you a holler." The wagon door's still open, but just before he turns around, I take my boots off and angle them to the side to make it look like I turned around and I'm still sleeping like a child.

I get up and pull the knife from the wall of the wagon, cut a piece of my shirt, and await his arrival. Just when he comes in, I reach for him, grabbing him by the neck and stuff the cloth in his mouth, sticking the knife next to his neck so he knows what's going on. His eyes widen, then they remain to normal size like he understand's what's going on.

His feet are about to move, but then I whisper, "Kick me, anyway, and I shift my gravity so that this kills you, understand?"

His eyes tell them for me.

"I'd rather die." I can make out, as he says quietly.

"What about the rest of your gypsy friends?"

He almost chokes on the cloth trying to grunt in frustration.

"Hey, are you alright?" Jackson asks. "We're about to go now, is he The Kin?"

I nod to him, and take off his cloth. "No, he's not."

"Alright. See, I told you guys."

I hear someone make a tsk noise and walk away.

His footsteps near, and he finally walks in, almost screaming, but then understands the situation. He raises his hands and he says, "Okay, just let him go. This ain't no way to repay the people who saved you."

I motion for him to take his jacket off and the rest of his clothes for him to give it to me. "Alright, when I do that, you let him go, alright?"

I nod, and he does so, leaving him only with an undershirt, shorts, and a hat. I nod towards the hat, and he takes that off as well. "Okay, now let him go."

I take a step to the right and stick the knife in Marco's throat, flipping him over, and throwing the knife to Jackson's chest before he says anything.

I put on his clothes, disguising myself as him, and just when the wagons and caravans get a move on, I slowly take a turn to the right, to go anywhere than where they're going.

Mianna...wherever that is, I'm gonna find that place, and I'm gonna go there. I promised I would.

Too far to the right and then the caravan in front of me starts to question what I'm doing. "Hey, Jackson, where are you going?"

I ignore them and just give them a thumbs up still taking a right turn.

"Jackson, what the hell are you doing, is everything okay?" I make the mistake of looking at Lana for one second, and she starts to scream. I immediately make the cows go as fast as they can, to the right and try to make my escape.

"Ah! It's Kin!"  The woman shouts.

Well, shit. The wagon goes as far as it can, probably ten meters, before the other wagons head in my direction. The two gypsies behind me are readying their fiery weapons, their Molotovs. They should know the cows are going to perish too.

I make a quick turn, well, as fast as these cows can go, which is 30 miles per hour, top speed. The cows do their moving for me, and I do my best to kill them off myself. There's gotta be something in this van to fight their fire with.

A molotov misses, though undeniably lands close to the front of the wagon.

"You son of a bitch, you're just a monster!" The woman cries.

I hang onto the grimy edges of the caravan wagon, and I burrow through the cabinets. Of course they have alcohol here. I rip off a cloth of Marco's shirt. Now, all I need is a match. Something, anything to start a fire with this thing.

Another molotov strikes closer to the wagon. Any closer and I'd die of a fire.

A set of a shotgun shells make a few bullets in the walls of the wagon, hitting my hat off. "Agh, shit!" I take cover, the whole shelf's antiques falling off. Right there, on the ground next to me, a lighter. Another round of bullets storm the wagon. At this rate, the wall might just come apart.

The molotov's now lit, ready to be thrown. At that point, a sudden explosion catches the back right wheel of the wagon on fire, startling the cows and destabilizing our path.

Before I drop the molotov, I throw it towards Lana's wagon and it misses by a mile. "Ha! The Kin's lost it! Let's get 'em now, boys!"

Dammit. They have no more alcohol, and I'm sure that lighter was a one time thing.  Quickly, I make the cows go straight in front of the wagons, pushing towards the flames, even though our wagon's gonna burn up soon.

"Fuck!" I hear one of them say.

Our two wagons collide, and clash into the next one. I make my jump, scratching my left leg at the pole of the other wagon. That means there's only one wagon left. The last wagon, quite far from us, is turning around.

"Gah! You...piece of shit..." The older woman from the wagon cries out, her body crushed from the debris.

HahahaHA! That bastard doesn't know any better huh?

I take out my knife, and as hard as it is to keep a poker face, I still do. On the inside, I'm laughing my ass off, but there's no need to show emotion. This woman's not worth it.

I take out of my knife and...

"FUCK!" She cries. "You shouldn't have come back, Kin! You're gonna get what you deserve some day. You shoulda kept runnin' from the past, you coward!"

I look her straight in the eyes, and my knife sticks into her throat, making sure she'll bleed out first, and then die.

I push it in a lot harder and twist the knife before I take it out.

Right, one more wagon. Damn shame this one had to go. Oh well, of course there's a town nearby. That's where these gypsies were all heading.

A sudden roar from a thunder cloud makes the ringing in my ears start again. Damn Outlands...

And would you look at that? A sand storm's already been brewed huh? If they're gonna come after me, I'm ready, but it just proves what a big bunch of idiots they all are. The last of those gypsies ram their wagons towards us at full speed, hiding myself under debris, holding the knife close to my chest.

But before they reach me, the wind blows the tops of their wagons off, and the dust hits their eyes, blinding the cows and their riders. Their wagon crashes on it's own, the cows stumbling on each other, dying on themselves.

Well, damn. No need for the work, I suppose.

It's a shame, though, about all these dead cows and all of these items for barter just to be destroyed later. They were heading somewhere, and wherever they're going, I'm going to get the supplies there myself.

I tuck my body deeper inside the debris. There's no way I can start a fire with all this dust, and no good in cooking the cows because...well...I don't have a fire. I tug the long, silk handkerchief over my nose and keep the hat. Over there, just there, are the dead bodies and probably some guns.

I take their shotguns and their shells; their shoes look fine so I might as well take them. Now, I at least have a better chance of survival. I'm all hydrated and rested, so I should be fine.

The Slums aren't even too far. Slowly, after a few steps, the Blurry village comes to show. The Gates that aren't closely guarded are close by and crowded with people. And today, they're opened, probably because of a signal these gypsies gave.

Too bad now, there weren't even a lot of them anyway. I wonder what jobs they have now after their big fuck up back in the old days.

I remember a fire, a fire over the gypsies and the other people of the Slums. Yeah, these gypsies were always threatened for stealing supplies so they could go on their 'Odysseys,' to different slums. If they survived the Outlands, which they are the best at after so many of these ridiculous trips.

Now, I wasn't around at the time of the fire. As far as I can tell, I wasn't that long ago, but that kinda stuff happened often. It makes me remember the time that people warned me about different gangs their main enemy, and I'm not trying brag only just a little, me, had gone. I heard news of their tragedy before in Mianna, I'm sure, and I'm guessing it was so bad it made them want to change.

Yeah, that's right, most of them were strong men and women, all talents of their own and psychic in such a way that most battles were won through their 'magic,' and their crazy right shit they call their intuition. Most thought they harnessed the power of the devil, too, while most had to plunder they had their 'magic eye.'

Sure they plundered. They plundered a lot even, but all their battles were won until their leader...Esmit I believe, thought fighting their battles head on was better.

And frankly, they suck at that the most.

Yeah, I know who I am. I'm the Kin. 'Kin' for the kin of Hades and Hercules if the two could ever possibly have a love child, then that is me. The one with the strength of a billion men, they said. The one who killed people just for fun.

Which is not all entirely true, I sure do have the strength but when they mean kill for fun, they mean I don't have a conscience when I kill.

I am a monster.

Not to say I'm completely devoid of emotion, rather I feel a twinge of guilt upon Reebus since it's downfall and lack of water is gone because of me. I'm sure if I ever showed my face again in Reebus then I would die, but...

I'm just selfish. I don't care what it takes as long as I get what I want, I'll do anything. And I don't need riches, I don't need money, I just want to survive. Isn't that everyone's greatest wish?

Power.

The storm hits upon my back, pushing me along as I hurry to the gates. Many people are lined there today waiting, but I suppose not getting. Eventually they'll figure out that they're all gone, but for now, maybe they'll think it's a set of merchants that lost their way or some sort of false alarm.

"Hey? Is someone there?!" I hear someone shout as they try to flash the light on me, but the dust covered it anyway.

"I see someone, is it them?" Another asks.

Chatter quickly starts to rise and the dust grows bigger, blocking their vision but definitely working into my favor.

"Wait, everyone, get back!" The person on the light shouts, pushing everything on back from the storm. Of course, they don't stray too far, they're waiting for someone they thought they saw to come closer.

Instead, the cloud is right above them, and people who were already continuing with their daily lives draws the people who weren't already doing so to continue theirs.

The dust blinds all of them, and I make sure to start from the corner, walking through the alley and walking with the crowds to avoid any suspicion. I wrap the long handkerchief over my face and lift the hat down so most won't recognize me. Only problem is this shirt, pants, and gloves ain't mine. It's my own jacket of course, and without all the dust, it's look is normal and almost new. I button up the jacket and stick my hands in the pockets. Maybe there are sunglasses around.

No one's looking at me weirdly yet, and I doubt they'd recognize my jacket because I don't remember ever wearing it here in Reebus. I don't know where the nearest milk store is, and I sure as hell don't remember where the butcher is, but I do remember my home. Sure if I walk to there I'll find some sort of supply store.

Knowing me, I've gotta have some sort of gun in my home. This knife will do nicely, though.

There, a bar. The only thing I get in a bar is eggnog, because that's the only good thing you can get in a bar. The rest is mumbo jumbo shit that I don't know about because no one with good taste ever gets it.

The bells jingle on the opening of the door. All the men stare at me, wondering if I'm worth the fight. If death is worth a good fight then so be it. A few steps down the aisle and they already stop looking at me.

Except for two men. There, to the right of me. Yes. Right beside me sitting in the far right with the creakiest of stools.

They apparently must think death is worth a good fight.

The bartender looks at me curiously and cautiously. "What can I get you, sir?"

"Eggnog." I say. "In a shot glass."

He nods. "Sure."

"Aye." The taller of the guys sitting next to me shouts at the bartender grinning idiotically. "Eggnog, huh? Eh, make it three glasses for us." Then his eyes catch mine, and a sudden ferocity in his eyes emerges. The bartender nods and walks off, cleaning the same wine glass he's been cleaning. "Because only one idiot drinks eggnog from a shot glass."

Jensen. One of the mother fuckers who fucked your mother.

"I don't wanna make a scene, Ry, but I just wanna let you know that you've got some nerve is all." Jensen leans closer to my ear.

"You haven't changed a bit." He smirks. "Before you kill me though, that whole incognito thing isn't gonna last long."

I chuckle. "What gave it away? Was it that hat? That jacket? I could've sworn I never wore this jacket here, but who knows?" The three glasses and one shot glass of eggnog slides down the bar. I take a shot and set it down. "I believe I've been suffering from some sort of amnesia."

"You know...I'm tempted to believe you on this one but...I'm really not. I know better."

I shrug. "I wouldn't believe it myself, but...to be honest I just woke up in the middle of the Outlands."

"Not surprised you survived though, but I thought you'd avoid this place to your death."

I chuckle. "Well, if there's one thing that drives me more than hate is survival."

"I see..." Jensen drinks all of his eggnog. "Well, I'll tell you this: It was your eyes. And even if you cover your eyes you still have that foul odor of a demon. Something you can't avoid. And I'll be honest, with no money and not even something as simple as a gun with you, you're not gonna survive long in a town where everyone hates you, now that you have no allies and nothing but the thick skin you have to protect you."

He then laughs heartily, and whispers. "And I'm not your ally, Kin."

"Well aware of that. Reminiscing isn't exclusive to allies only, of course." I raise my empty shot glass.

"True," He sighs, and then gives me a weird warning in my eyes. "But I'm just giving you a head start of survival here since you're not even armed." Which he should know isn't even in the least bit true. "I'm gonna tell my buddies about you, you can count on that. Will they hunt you, probably so. But you've got the tiniest sliver of hope that they won't come after you in fear. They'll hunt you now, now that they know you're vulnerable."

I scoff and start to walk away in the side door. Whatever Jensen has planned, he has no idea what I can do. He thinks after a few years of prosperity I can't revert back to the old self and kill anyone that gets in my way? Right now, I need to get back to Carla. Whatever this town thinks of me is worth getting back to the people I promised to become better to.

"Hey, you haven't paid yet!" The bartender shouts.

"It's okay." Jensen instantly calms him down, taking out some cash. "This one's one me."

I don't even look back. That son of a bitch is planning an ambush, and I noticed Jensen's little rat try to escape from the bar. By now, the word must've spread, but now, it ain't spread too far yet.

Right now, I need some money, and right now, the thing I need most is to change my look completely. Little things like deja vu make their way into my mind, and I remember the stores that I've been through in this town, but now they look dirtier, maybe because of all this dust.

There, a barber store. Something that'll definitely change my hair and my looks.

I barge into the barber store, the bang of the door so loud that everyone stops to look at what's happened. Few people are in here, today. Two customers and three workers, which is a lot less than what's normally going on.

"Give me a hair cut, something to change my looks completely...Now!" I bellow, and the tiny lady with the bounciest and brownest short hair working at the register trembles. She puts on her white apron over her yellow uniform and fixes her name tag. But I don't really are what it says.

"Y-Yes, I'll be right there." Her lips quiver, grabbing a pair of scissors and sitting me down.

"Hey, give me that seat." I point. "That one, the one nearest to the window."

She nods quickly. "O-okay."

"Oh get over yourself." I groan. "No reason to be so afraid, for now." She gulps.

"R-right." She starts cutting the long hair and shaving the beard in a way that almost changes your facial shape. The barber starts cutting my long hair in a way the slicks my hair back, but a few long bangs cover my forehead and almost my eyes. My side burns are kept but straightened, and all that's left she's doing now is adding an undercut to my hair, although my slicked-back hair overlaps most of my undercut, although my hair isn't too long at this point.

I start to listen in on the people next to me.

The one man says to the another woman: Did you hear about the academy today?

Her: Yeah, I heard. Those poor kids are getting shipped off like they're property.

Him: To most people, they are now.

Her: Yeah, those auctions have gone up a lot. Child slavery is cruel, but...it's free labor.

Him: Hmm...I'm sure. Lots of parents are even selling their kids to get money.

Her: Is this how we're living now? After a child's owner dies they go out and have more kids to sell to another owner to make some money?

Him: Wouldn't you?

Her: I don't know. Right now, everything's going steadily, but you'll never know what happens.

Him: I understand. I have a daughter, I would never give her up. Good schools are hard to maintain, and luckily she made it into one. Our neighbors, not so lucky. One of their daughters had been sold to someone else, their eldest son killed during military training, and their youngest daughter with her sassy mouth was also up for a Two-Dayer in the academy. Damn Corpal soldiers think they're better than everyone...

Her: You know, if your daughter's pretty enough, she can be sold at the Interior.

Him: Tch...I don't even wanna think about that. Although I'm sure you'd get a lot of money for it.

Her: I'm sure. Maybe he/she would have a better life if one was sold there, but, who knows. The Interior thinks of us as pigs. No, lower than pigs. The lowest of the low. The subordinate to the most inferior.

Him: Unfortunately so. I heard The Blade helped other people like him out of the academy.

Her: The Blade? I thought he lived in Bedrock all these years.

Him: Yeah, but that girl who's really good with a gun, you know, that girl who's always wearing that navy blue bandanna over her face? The one who's with the Blade? Yeah, she was from the Academy. I'm sure she's the one he first saved.

Her: I didn't know that they were actually partners. I thought that Blade guy worked alone, even if he's just a kid, there's no denying he's the strongest of Reebus.

Him: A title like that can earn you a lot of enemies, which is why I'm sure he probably recruited that one gun chick to fight for him.

Her: Still, I don't even know why he bothered. Even if you escape the Academy, they still have to plunder for food? They can never even get a full job. They'll have to keep killing for a long time.

Him: That's right. But to think, I'm sure they've made enough money with their jobs to survive. It pays to be strong, and pays the most to be the strongest.

Her: The strongest man, huh?

I look to the lady giving me a hair cut and ask, "What are they talking about?"

"W-what?!" She cries. "Uh-um...they're talking about the strongest man."

"Yeah, I know, but a kid?" I ask.

She nods. "Yes. A kid from Bedrock. He's what people call the Blade. He delivers illegal things to different people, and he doesn't have a gang, only allies of a few people. He's what I-I'd think would be the next Kin, but, although he's caused enough trouble..." She grunts and the pair of scissors in her hands tremble.

Does she know something? I smile.

She glimpses at her hands and then at me. Her pained face looks away and says, "U-um...it's nothing more to achieve simple survival, rather than a competition or a war with the Interior."

"I see." I nod. "Do you know anything else about him?"

She shakes her head. "No-not...really. I mean, he has a partner...and they're the best of friends now, I guess. The Navy Leg? Her name's Ha-I mean, it doesn't matter now. They're all strong, that's all."

The Blade, huh? And right now, he's the strongest? "Let me ask you, if the Kin were to be here right now and challenge the Blade, who do you think would win?"

"I-I'm not sure." She looks away. "The answer to that would mean a lot of dead people."

"If you ask me." The man who was talking to the lady says. "I'd say The Blade. He's quick, notorious, strong, and not to mention he has his partner with him. Of course, you didn't ask me, and I didn't ask you to eavesdrop on our conversation."

"I would have to say The Kin." The woman says. "Though a child his age has the strength of a professional, he hasn't been in in the business as long as the Kin has. And that child is more of a strong nuisance rather than the Kin who's a notorious serial killer. Although, some might say twenty-some-years of age is half way through death. Most of those kids matured to act like thirty-year-olds, especially the plundering ones. He's definitely one of them."

"W-Why do you ask?" The barber asks me.

"Don't tell me you're planning on taking on The Blade. There are so many idiots like you, acting like you're the new Kin." The woman rolls her eyes.

"You look familiar, although I can't quite remember who you are..." The man starts, but then he sighs. "I'm sure you're one of the thugs I've seen earlier. Didn't think I'd actually see one go to a barber shop."

"No one thought that Blade guy would actually be into candles." The woman snorted. "Weird to see people like you as humans, but don't worry, as long as you promise not to kill us, we won't report you to anyone."

"That's right, The Corpals are surrounding the interior walls and walk down these streets like they own the place. Still, one wrong move and the guns they've been given are enough to wipe us all out." The man sighs. "Can't believe that's what most kids are being raised to do. It's a tough choice, but seriously, fuck the Corpals."

The dust starts to die down as the loud blowing from the outside suddenly ends, catching everyone's attention.

"I guess the Corpals have given up on giving us a warning on the storms..." The woman sighs. "Good thing they die down quicker...or maybe it's just me. Maybe we're all just used to hell."

Several different figures emerge from the dying dust. Thugs. Certain thugs yelling and looking at passing and panicked people. They're looking for me.

Their shouts are hard to make out from the glass, but everyone's still staring at them. Eventually they'll find me, and I'll have to make a move.

Then one of them points to me, and another man, who's smug face I remember...Jensen, holding a stack of cash, from which I can only assume is from tipping them off, nods and the thugs start to walk towards the barber shop.

"H-Hey...are they...are they looking for y-you?" My barber asks, and the rest of them look at me. I show her my knife and shush her, and she starts to back away.

"Say a word," I whisper, "And I'll stick this in your throat." She nods and continues her cutting.

"H-Hey I don't want part of this, man!" The man cries, starting to get up.

"Then don't. Sit down and pretend like nothing's going on." He nods and the two of them gulp, but then he stands up again.

"No way, dude...I'm calling the Corpals, and all of your...friends are going to jail!"

The door opens abruptly once more breaking the glass to the left and on the door. The Man and Woman nod to each other, getting up slowly to walk out of the store. At first, the thugs let them pass, focusing only on me.

That is until the Bitch and his Rat stopped them at the door.

"Whoa, whoa...whoa!" Jensen stops them with the same smirk that his rat friend has, except that Rat's is uglier. "Uh, you can't get up. There are rules to these kinds of things, you know?"

"Rules? What rules? Rules to what?" The man asks.

He chuckles. "Uh...the one where we're about to murder someone. You know, to put it in your words, it means there can't be any witnesses. I mean, it would just look ridiculous if we were outgunned by the Corpals. We'd lose respect."

The Rat grabbed the two of their arms and pushed them up against the wall.

"Wait, Wait!" The woman screams.

The man calls out, whimpering under the gun of the rat. "Please, I have a daughter, I'll pay you what you want. I'll do anything, please!"

"Daughter?" Jensen asks. "She cute? I might reconsider..."

"No!" The man cries. "No, you assholes, get the fuck out of here!"

"Wait, no!" The woman calls out, but the man jumps at the Rat trying to strangle the gun from his hands, only to be shot by Jensen behind him.

"Ah!" The woman cries. She looks up and stands up, unwilling to give in. "You motherfuckers, shoot me. I won't give in to fear. I will-"

Jensen shoots her without a moments hesitation. She slumps on the ground, gagging on her blood as the bullet lodges into her throat.

"Whoops, missed. I need to work on that. But hey, I gave you what you want." He stands in front of her and shoots her again. "What a waste of a bullet."

The rest of the barbers cower in the back, and the one finishing my hair backs away, crying and trembling already.

"What did I say, Kin?" The barber squeaks and jumps at Jensen's words. "Not your ally."

"Asshole!" I shout, jumping at him with my knife, sticking it deep in his throat, carrying his body and running towards the rat in front of him, cornering him before he could dodge the knife sticking out of Jensen's nape.

I duck before a bullet hits me, letting the two bodies fall over me, using them as a human shield. The knife falls out, letting me grab it. Without the knife in the two bodies, I throw Jensen's at the big man who came in, pinning him to the ground and using the Rat's as another human shield, jumping on top of the man only to stick the knife in his head.

A blood from the body of my human shield sprays on my head, and only two people are left. Both of them shooting at me. One of them nears me with a machete, and I use the same tactic, using the thin Rat and sticking a knife all the way through his skin, stabbing the one with the machete in the chest.

The one with the gun runs after me too, and a bullet hits my leg, and I jump at him, using the gun against him, killing him for sure.

I walk over the same bodies, shooting all of them in the head for safe measure. The three barbers, look at me, wondering what would happen to them.

"Y-you're the Kin?" My barber asks.

I point the gun in their direction. "You two, dispose of these bodies." They nod, struggling to lift them. "You, my barber," She nods and whimpers. "finish my hair cut. I'll need some money and a change of clothes later."

She sets me down and shakes even more. I ask her, "Where do I buy cows and a wagon? Maybe some maps?"

She stutters, "U-U-Uh...I...I-y-you would buy them from the merchants. T-they're in the Interior, but t-there are some people who actually make them on their farms here. As far as I can tell, you can only buy maps from those Gypsies. They should be here soon...but...if there are maps somewhere else, they'd be really hard to find. Maybe the...the interior? I'm sorry, I don't know, I really don't know!"

The Gypsies huh? Well shit, if there was anything that survived in that wreckage, I doubt it would be maps, which are made out of paper, of all things, and papyrus. The possibility that the storm hadn't blown it away is very low.

After an hour of silence, it seems like the three women have finished their jobs. I take the cash and remember the conversation the two other customers had. The Barber hands me my clothes, and I smile, all three of them still trembling, all of them probably sent a message already, but if they had, I'd have known.

"Y-you know..." One of the Barbers say. "You'll pay for what happened."

I shoot her.

The two of them cower again, and almost cry. "Wait, but we-" I shot the other girl barber, cutting off her words. The last one was the girl who cut my hair. I owe her a lot, but...what she might cause me completely ruins the debt I'm in for her.

"P-please." She begs. "Please...I'm begging you...don't do this, I-"

And another shot sounds. I should've asked that girl to clean these bodies and kill her where she disposed them, but...I clean them myself.

Everything looks clean, except for the glass, but I leave this run down store and turn the open sign to close.

Closed forever.

The way home didn't seem like anyone knew who I was, and the storm was dying down, it looked night, even though everything looked like orange and dust. And by 'home,' I mean the small apartment at the edge of the lower sector of the Slums where the only way to get there is through the gross and ominous Prime Pass, the above ground tunnels.

What everyone calls the Overhead Tunnels.

And I hate calling it home. It's not home if no one you love is there anymore but, it's not like I ever truly loved anyone here anyway. This is just a place for me...

To recuperate before I go off and kill someone for my sake again.

If I wanna go to my real home, it's gonna take a lot of that to go back. If it means stirring up trouble again, let it come. The same weapons are here, and the same memories are here. All enough for me to start and get all my supplies.