The desert planet

~ I'd really apreciate it if you share your thoughts on the story !

Anyway here you go:

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The twin suns of Sumeria G-9 beat down mercilessly on the endless expanses of desert, casting long shadows across the barren landscape. The planet, a vast wasteland of sand and heat, held one last bastion of humanity: the ancient city of Babylon. Amidst this harsh environment, the Astralport stood as a gleaming oasis, a hub of interplanetary travel and trade.

A lone figure emerged from the cool, metallic confines of a spacecraft. His form was shrouded in a billowing cape that shielded him from the blistering rays of the desert planet. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his presence commanding attention even among the diverse and bustling crowd of travelers. His face, however, revealed hollow and distant eyes that seemed drowned in some form of darkness or illusion. Long black hair fell gracefully onto his shoulders, framing a face marked by facial hair here and there, poorly trimmed, that gave him a worn-out look of a man in his late thirties.

The Astralport was alive with activity, a cacophony of voices in countless languages, the hum of engines, and the scent of exotic spices from distant worlds. Yet, the man remained focused, his mind set on the mission that had brought him to this unforgiving planet.

His first destination was the ancient city of Babylon. From the Astralport, he boarded a high-speed train that would carry him across the desert expanse. It was a marvel of engineering, yet the man remained unsurprised. As a traveler coming from afar in distant space, this desolate planet's technology was surely not the best he had witnessed. The train was a sleek silver serpent that cut through the sands with ease. Inside, the temperature was cool and the seats luxurious, a stark contrast to the harsh environment outside.

He took a seat by the window, staring out at the shifting dunes and the distant ruins without really seeing them. His reflection in the glass was a ghostly image, eyes empty and devoid of life. Fellow passengers glanced his way, drawn by his imposing presence, but his hollow stare discouraged any attempts at conversation.

However, one young man, tanned and energetic, seemed undeterred. Taking a seat across from the mysterious traveler, he smiled warmly. "Are you here for the Shamash festival?" he asked, his voice full of a local's pride and curiosity.

The man stayed silent faced to the local's inquiry, his expression showing a slight flicker of confusion. The young man, noticing the lack of recognition, continued, "You know, the Shamash festival? It's drawing all these tourists. We Sumerians spend a whole week worshiping the sun god, Utu."

The man nodded slightly, not wanting to draw further attention. The local seemed satisfied and kept talking, while the man's mind drifted back to the faraway scenery of the golden dunes.

The journey to Babylon was swift, the landscape blurring as the train sped along its track. When the towering spires of the city finally appeared on the horizon, they were dominated by the Great Tower of Babylon, a majestic and imposing structure that pierced the sky. The tower, an architectural marvel, was both a symbol of human ingenuity and the seat of power where the supreme king resided. This colossal edifice was visible from miles away, casting a long shadow over the city and its surroundings. They say the first ruler of Babylon built it as a place of worship dedicated to Utu, but also as a symbol of humanity's last bastion in Sumeria G-9. A marvel remaining unique even across the vast cosmos.

Upon arrival, he disembarked and made his way through the crowded station. The city's heart beat with life, a stark contrast to his own emptiness. He moved through the throngs of people with the same detached efficiency, his destination clear in his mind.

His first stop was the renowned Golden Sands Bazaar, a marketplace famed throughout the galaxy for its wonders and curiosities. Here, one could find anything and everything: rare artifacts, forbidden technologies, and items of great power. It was a place where fortunes were made and lost, where every shadow hid a potential ally or enemy.

As he approached the bazaar, the man's eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the sprawling expanse of tents and stalls that stretched as far as the eye could see. The air was thick with the sounds of haggling and laughter, the clinking of coins, and the occasional shout of a vendor praising their wares.

As he wandered through the bustling marketplace, his expression remained unchanged, indifferent to the vibrant chaos around him. He moved through the crowds like a ghost, unresponsive to the lively atmosphere. Vendors called out to him, trying to lure him to their stalls with promises of exotic goods and rare treasures, but he barely glanced in their direction.

A merchant, noticing his imposing presence, stepped into his path. "Good sir, perhaps something from the far reaches of the galaxy? A relic from the ancient ruins of Xandar?" the merchant offered, holding up a gleaming artifact.

The man's eyes flickered briefly to the item before moving on, uninterested. Without a word, he brushed past the merchant, his cape trailing in the dust. The merchant watched him go, puzzled by the lack of response as he continued his silent journey through the bazaar, his mind a void, his purpose a distant beacon guiding his steps.

As he wandered, his attention was captured by a small kitten playing on the bench of a nearby stall. Its playfulness seemed to momentarily break through the veil of indifference that shrouded him. He knelt down, extending a hand towards the kitten. It approached cautiously, sniffing his fingers before allowing him to gently stroke its fur.

"Such cute creatures, aren't they?" the vendor remarked, noticing the interaction as he arranged a display of maps and navigational equipment. His voice held a hint of warmth.

The man nodded in agreement, a faint flicker of emotion crossing his otherwise stoic expression. He reluctantly tore his gaze away from the kitten and turned towards the vendor.

"Can I help you, traveler?" the vendor asked, his tone friendly and welcoming.

The man nodded, his attention now fully on the task at hand. "I need a map," he stated, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

The vendor nodded understandingly and reached under the counter, retrieving a small chip. "This should do the trick," he said, offering it to his customer.

The man inserts the chip into his metallic handpiece, a technology of some sort, and with a soft hum, it displays a holographic representation of the city, illuminating the space before him with a three-dimensional map.

With a brief nod of thanks, he turned away from the stall and continued on his journey through the bazaar. His eyes scanned the bustling streets, searching for a nearby inn where he could rest and gather his thoughts.

Following the path indicated by the holographic map, he navigated the winding streets of Babylon, the ancient city stretching out before him like a labyrinth of stone and shadow. As he walked, his senses alert, he noticed a commotion unfolding in a narrow dark alleyway nearby.

His footsteps slowed as he approached, his gaze falling upon a young teenager surrounded by three aggressive figures. Their voices were harsh and demanding, accusing the teenager of owing them money. The air crackled with tension as the situation escalated. The man, his expression still void of emotion, stepped into the alley, his presence drawing the attention of the bullies. They eyed him warily, their words laced with arrogance and contempt.

"Huh? Do you wanna get beaten up too, old man?" one of them sneered, his fists clenched in anticipation.

"Leave," the man responded, his voice monotone. The bullies laughed, mocking his indifference, while the teenager was surprised someone was willing to speak out for him. "I won't say it again…",

"Leave." his expression starting to show a slight annoyance.

"It seems you don't understand old fart, you're the one who needs to leave" replies one of the men, stepping forth to intimidate their unwelcome visitor.

Without a word, the man moved with sudden and unexpected speed, closing the distance between himself and the first bully. In one swift motion, he grabbed the man by the collar and slammed his head against the wall with a resounding thud.

The other two assailants, startled by the sudden turn of events, hesitated. But before they could react, the man dispatched them with swift and decisive blows. The second bully attempted to retaliate, but the man swiftly countered with a quick uppercut, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The third, now alone and outnumbered, cowered in fear, his vain talk of avenging his friends crumbling in the face of the man's unwavering resolve. With a final threat, the third bully retreated, leaving the man standing alone in the alley with the injured yet amazed teenager. 

"Are you alright?" the man asks, the man offers a hand to the young man, helping him to stand.

The teenager winced in pain as he rose, his expression filled with discomfort.

"Argh," he sighed, his voice strained. "They beat me up good."

The man nodded in understanding, his expression softening slightly. He glanced around the alley, assessing the situation before turning his attention back to the teenager.

"You need to treat your injuries," he said, his voice devoid of its earlier monotone.

"Can you walk?"

The teenager nodded, determination flickering in his eyes despite the pain. With the man's support, he limped out of the alley, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls of Babylon.

Together, they navigated the streets until they reached a humble square-shaped stone house nearby. The teenager ushered the man inside, where a warm and welcoming atmosphere greeted them.

The boy's mother, a kind-hearted woman with weary eyes, greeted them with concern etched on her face. She was of medium height, with strands of gray weaving through her dark hair, and wore a simple dress that had seen better days.

"Mom, I'm okay. This man helped me," the teenager said, gesturing towards the stranger.

The mother's eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft yet sincere. "Please, come in."

She quickly began tending to her son's injuries, her hands gentle but firm as she applied salves and bandages.

The man watched silently.

"Does it hurt?" the mother asked, her tone full of motherly concern as she treated her son's wounds.

"A little," the teenager admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Once the teenager's injuries had been treated, the boy's mother insisted on preparing a humble meal for their guest.

"Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing to the table. "It's not much, but it's the least we can do."

As they ate, conversation flowed easily, the man's stoic demeanor softening in the presence of their genuine kindness.

"Thank you for helping my son," the mother said, her eyes filled with gratitude.

"It was nothing," the man replied, his voice quiet yet sincere. 

The teenager nodded in agreement, a small smile playing at his lips. "Yeah, thanks! Your fighting skills were super awesome !!" he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

The man gave a slight nod, acknowledging the compliment but not dwelling on it. 

"So, who were those?" he inquired, wondering if they deserved the beating.

"My father owed them money…" the boy answered with a slight melancholy. "But he passed away recently, and the debt remained unpaid…" , he sighs silently before looking at the man's reaction.

"Is that so?", the man added, filling the silence with a question he wasn't needing an answer for. 

"Here you go mister!" happily expressed the mother, as she served the man a cup of hot green tea and some sweets.

"Thank you," he replied, grabbing the cup and sipping the fragrant tea.

"But…, I own a stall now at the Bazaar, even though it's small and the sales are not so great, I will pay that debt someday !" his eyes were filled with hope as he answered the man with excitement.

"If they ever come back, find me, i will beat them up again.", the man adds, to which the boy reacted in a slight smile, "It's time i leave, thanks for the welcome." he grabs a final treat, and stands up, walking to the door.

"Wait !" shouts the boy as he quickly stands up, "Where can I find you? Mister…uuh-" the boy remembered the man never gave him his name, nor he gave his to him.

"My name is Hollow, you'll find me in the nearby inn." he said as he turned back facing the boy with his expressionless face.

"My name is Elyas, Elyas Cyrus, thank you for your help mister Hollow!" 

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The night falls before late, and the inn fills with loud voices of chatter and an aroma of various meals wafting from the kitchen. Hollow made his way through the crowded common room, his presence barely registering amidst the lively atmosphere.

Finding a secluded corner, he settled into a shadowy alcove, his eyes scanning the room with detached interest. It wasn't long before a figure approached him, moving with a subtle grace that betrayed years of experience.

The informant, a seasoned veteran, slipped a small data chip into Hollow's hand without a word. Their eyes met briefly, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them before the informant melted back into the crowd.

Hollow discreetly pocketed the chip, his expression unchanged.

Rising from his seat, he made his way to the bar and ordered a drink. As the alcohol burned its way down his throat, Hollow felt nothing but a faint warmth, a reminder of his body's inability to succumb to intoxication.

He had long since discovered that his unique physiology rendered him immune to the effects of alcohol, a thing he always thought was a curse.

Ordering another drink out of habit rather than desire, Hollow sipped it slowly, thinking about the life he might have had if he were able to get drunk.

Eventually, he pushed himself away from the bar, his steps steady as he made his way to his room. Entering his room, he settled onto the bed, retrieving the chip from his cloak. With a flick of his wrist, he inserted it into his metallic handpiece, a soft hum indicating it was reading the data.

A holographic message projected into the space before him, displaying a map and detailed instructions on where to find the first person he needed to investigate—a key piece of the puzzle in his mission. Hollow's gaze remained fixed on the projection, absorbing every detail.

"The black market…" he said silently, as he vaguely gazed at the ceiling.