047.4 Hours Since Quartz's Disappearance

I'm once again lugging my big toolbox through the city, heading out to fix something for my boss. I'm not as excited about this one as my last out-of-shop job. For this one, I have to go to The Wall.

The Wall is....... just a wall. It's a big, ugly concrete circle that surrounds the city. There's no building that's taller than the wall. The sun is only visible in the middle of the day. The only people who go outside the wall are farmers. Even then, they're only out there for the bare minimum of time to plant or harvest crops. The other side of the wall is dangerous. Monsters conjugate outside every night, and not all of them flee from the daylight. Many people have lost their lives being overwhelmed by a daytime hoard. A sword, or even a bow, just can't keep up with such a number of foes.

As I walk closer to the wall, the districts and neighborhoods become much poorer. The East half of the city is richer and has two story buildings all the way to the wall, but the houses on this West city edge are nothing more than shacks. I try not to make any eye contact with the people I pass. These are the times where I wish I had a weapon just to carry for show. My older brother once told me that if I carry a weapon, I have to be willing to use it. I don't think I could hurt another living person if it came down to it.

The thought brings me back to the fight I saw two nights ago in the alleyway. As much as I've tried to stop thinking about it, my mind keeps wandering back to it. It just doesn't make a lot of sense. That guy didn't have anything on him that could be stolen. The guys with the weird logos were also carrying guns. Not everyone can get their hands on those. The only logical think I can think of is that it's gang related. The stranger could be someone high up in a gang, and those other men could have been from a rival gang, and they were sent to take him out. It's not uncommon. Gangs usually put logos and tags up all over their turf, but I don't recognize the one they were wearing. A new gang wouldn't already have access to guns, either. Street guns are far and few between. Most people can't disable their trackers. They also looked too well dressed and organized. There's all these questions, and no answers.

I'm thrown out of my thoughts when the scene around me darkens. I look up to see the wall looming before me. It's even more monstrous up close. Making sure there's nobody nearby, I fumble around in my jacket pocket to find the maintenance key. It was dropped off this morning along with half the payment, and I have to return it tomorrow morning. I imagine theft would result in imprisonment. Execution, maybe.

The wall has circular towers that jut out slightly from the rest of the build. Each of them are built half a mile apart. I walk up to it and run my hand along the side until I feel the slight depression. I follow down the line until I find the keyhole for the door. The key fits in perfectly and turns easily. The door, on the other hand, is heavy and hard to push open. I have to lean against it and push back to get it to open. Inside is a tall, hollow space with a single ladder running to the top. I feel like my boss always gives me the jobs involved with heights. It's a long climb, the heavy toolbox strapped to my back. It's morbid of me to think about how someone's probably died here before. It would only take one little slip. I shudder and keep climbing.

When I finally get to the top and open up the hatch, a blast of wind slams into my face and tosses my bangs around. It startles me to feel that powerful, invisible force. Wind can't easily move around in the walls. I've only ever felt the faintest of breezes towards the center of the city. I climb the rest of the way up the ladder and unstrap my toolbox, leaving the hatch open.

I was called here to fix a few lightbulbs. The employer was vague, but they think something's wrong with the wiring. The top of the wall is wide with waist high rails on either side. The inside rail has powerful lights shining down on the city at night. I move over to the fuse box for this half mile section and again use the key to open it up. It takes a few moments for me to find the problem. I'm so engrossed in my task that I don't hear the slight metallic sound of footsteps on the ladder. Later I realized that I should have closed the door back up, but it was heavy, and the maintenance shaft would have been incredibly dark.

I only look up when someone hits their foot on my toolbox and cusses. I jump nearly three feet into the air, already imagining the worst when I whip around. There's a man standing there and watching me. He's a little taller, with brown hair that covers up one of his eyes. My eyes keep drifting back to the sword strapped to his belt.

"Y-Your not s-suppose to be up here", I stutter. What can I do? He could throw me off the wall and no one would ever know. This one job isn't really worth my own life.

"Relax. I'll only be up here a few minutes", the stranger waves me off and walks closer to the wall's edge. He's looking over the rail and into the countryside beyond. "I saw you climbing up here, and wanted to take a look. It's silly and a waste of time, but I thought that I could maybe find some trace of my friend. Call me.......... Vixen".

"...... Ok...... My name is Simon". I'm skeptical, and I don't really believe his story, but I can't do much to get rid of him. Why does the name Vixen sound familiar? I go back to working on the fuse box while keeping an eye on the stranger. Does he want to steal some of my tools? That's the usual response when people see my big black box and hear all the metallic clanking inside. If people see you as a friend, it's harder for them to do bad things to you. This is my excuse to start a conversation. "So, your friend, what's he like?".

"Oh, um, I guess he has a really serious side. He cares a lot about other people. I just wish he would be more trusting. He was always so paranoid about people seeing his eyes", Vixen shrugs, stepping back from the rails. It seems like an uncomfortable subject for him, but that last detail strikes me as way too coincidental.

"His eyes? Your friend wouldn't happen to like wearing sunglasses, like, all the time? At night?", I mumble the last part. Vixen instantly becomes more alert and guarded.

"You saw someone like that!? Where? You have to tell me", he takes a few steps forward so that he's towering over me, still bent over the fuse box. He's not leaving without answers.

"W-Well, it's none of my business. I-I don't have an-anting to do with gangs", I cower a little, wishing I had just kept my mouth shut.

"No! We're not in some fucking gang! This is important, Simon. Please, just tell me what you saw", Vixen's expression softens, and it almost looks like he's begging. I hesitate a little, not wanting to get involved, but then I open my mouth to explain.