Downward Spiral ~ 2

Crush walked out with his emotions enflamed. He cast up his head to breathe, met the ceiling, then cursed, "Right, I'm in a fucking cave; there is no fresh air."

[ The Creator: Marco ]

_

"Fuck you; I'm not in the mood," he grumbled, knocking away the sudden pop-up message.

Consecutive wooden whacks were coming from the left side of the Guild Hall. A yard area where they stored logs to be cut. Crush figured using an axe would be a good way to destress, so he wandered over.

Already hard at work was Charles, chopping away his woes as per usual. The intensity of his constant labor and salt-drenched clothing turned Crush off from wanting to join. He was slightly annoyed that his trepidations felt insignificant near the toiling man.

Crush respired, trying to decrease the irritation on his face, then called out for him. The broad chin man, lost in his dreamland didn't respond. Crush marched forward and struck his back and lectured, "You're going to scare away the customers."

Charles woke from immersion, observed Crush, then mustard a smile before he bowed. He'd only had a few colorless streaks in his hair before, but the top of his head had become dominantly white. No doubt due to the unknown phenomenon named Hair Depigmentation.

"I'm working on it, Sir," he said in apology.

"Told you to just address me by name," replied Crush, walking past the man and sitting on the remaining half-log he was cutting.

Charles wiped his forehead with his giant arms. "I know, but I have to insist." He replied, planting himself beside Crush, whose foot was rapidly drumming the ground.

"Bad day?" The man asked.

"Nope, things are great," Crush replied in an obviously agitated lie.

"I see," Charles said, discontinuing his inquiry. He knew not to press on other people's problems because he, too, preferred to keep to himself. The bearded lumberjack reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold picture pendant. He'd managed to keep it relatively clean despite their environment being lacking. He looked at it longingly for a minute, caressing the metal frame with a simple, heartfelt smile.

Crush, on the other hand, was not at peace. Although he was "getting fresh air," he involuntarily recalled what'd happened with Sprite. Glaring angrily at anyone that walked passed and making sore noises.

Charles broke the silence between them, speaking composedly. "I haven't had a chance to thank you for saving me back then."

Crush hunched over to shelter his constant, unpleasant groaning, then reacted. "I don't remember doing anything so heroic."

Charles chuckled under his breath, leaned into Crush, and held his pendant before his face. "Sitting around in this cave without hope of seeing my family again drove me to the lowest I'd ever been. I'd considered taking my axe to my throat."

"I'd already seen others do it, or they entered the tunnel just to be killed naturally."

(("Who drops something this heavy on someone going through a tough time,")) Complained Crush. He drew his face to the picture of the family, then felt obligated to ask, "Was it really that bad?"

"Worse," Replied Charles. "Many people were discouraged, depressed, ready to end it. The Garden's discovery gave some hope for survival, but it didn't change the fact that we were still trapped in a dungeon."

"Just when I'd faced my reality. There was laughter. You and Sprite were chuckling while those strangers brought mounds of lumber to your feet. While the entire world crumbled, you two existed outside the despair. I was curious, so I watched a little longer, and before I knew it, I was walking toward you."

"I see..." Crush took the picture of the man's family into his hands and brought it closer to his face to get a clearer image. (("I know this is where I'm supposed to ask about the photo, but then he'll just give me a long background story about these people I'll never meet in person."))

"You really helped us back then," Crush said, keeping his response quick.

"Mhm," Charles sounded, worming closer. He pointed to a child in the photo that resembled himself, then said, "You sort of remind me of my daughter."

(("Here we go,")) Crush thought.

"A tenacious spirit, just like her hippy mother," laughed the big-armed man. "I built our home in the woods, away from cities, and we taught our little girl how to make use of nature. By three, she knew the name of all the tools I was using, and four years later, I caught her in the middle of the night hammering nails into a plank."

"She sounds like quite the clever piece," commented Crush.

"Yea, you would have gotten along. She also has all these ideas, and honestly, she talks my ear off some days."

"Ideas, huh" cackled Crush. "Sounds like someone I know. Maybe I'll hire her for our business once we get back."

Charles clasped the photo between his palms, inched his eyes closed, then grinned, "yea, you'd be doing my wife and me a favor by putting that troublemaker to work."

Crush's face straightened. He pressed his middle finger onto his cheek that'd lifted with his unexpected smile. He peered at the floor, reflecting on what he'd said. (("Back?"))

(("Back where, to Earth? What will happen to everything we've built here if we return there? Can we take our treasure back? Or- I'd rather stay here if it means we don't have to start over on the city streets."))

(("At least here we're somebody. We've already built the Guild House; next, we'll build houses and kingdoms that we can rule. We-"))

(("That's right, WE, as in me and Sprite... I couldn't have done any of this without him."))

Crush shot up to his feet, glanced at the Guild Hall, then back at Charles, "Thanks for keeping me company."

Charles stood from the log, pocketed his pendant, then grabbed his axe. "You're welcome."

"We're running low on lumber, so I will grab some men to visit the Garden."

"You're going too? I could pin a Gathering Quest to the board and have others deliver it," offered Crush.

"Then I'd miss the satisfaction of seeing the trees fall to our hard labor," rejected Charles. He'd made friends with the local lumbers and often embarked into the Garden together. The entire Hub knew when they left because the gang comprised noisy, sweaty hulks whose boisterous laughter awakened others.

They may have done it for pleasure, but Crush gave the man a pouch of coins. He worried that If rumors spread that they didn't pay others for their services, it would tarnish the Hall's reputation.

After accepting the currency, he smiled, "You may not think of yourself as heroic, but you are generous. I'll make sure everyone gets compensated for their fair share."

Generous. Crush knew that the man would change his view if he knew half the stuff he thought in his head. Still, he bore the compliment.

"I hope you make up with your friend," Charles said, strolling off.

For a moment, Crush watched him walk off. He'd never told the man anything about his fight with Sprite, so how did he know? Was it some kind of third sense that fathers developed when they had kids?

No matter, while unanticipated, Crush discovered something from their conversation. And, just in time, because Sprite was exiting the Guil Hall. He was with five or so strangers in white hats who carried Loriana and the other girl on stretchers. Likely heading to the Hub's medical center. The facility wasn't nearly as fancy as it sounded, just a large tent where all the personnel with a history in medicine grouped to help anyone unwell. Crush wondered why his brother even bothered to shelter the two injured himself instead of taking them there first.

Alas, asking would just dig up more animosity, and Crush wanted to make amends. He left the yard and steered for the departing group but had his attention shackled by a nuisance.

[ The Creator: Marco ]

_

The second appearance of the window was enough to obliterate the solace he'd just found. He punched a hole through it, then kicked it to the curb before continuing his current objective.

One foot forward, and another window appeared with the same message. Irked, he pulled up the chat that'd been initiated. He'd received the exact text three times already. Instead of responding to their "Marco" with "Polo," he was keen to reply with a lengthy passage containing some M-rated words.

He furiously tapped around the screen while looking for a keyboard, but there still wasn't one. As he berated the panel, he received a fourth message, this one different from the past few.

[ The Creator: Found you! : ) ]

_

Crush's movements paused as he gazed at the screen in question; then, a few yards from his flank, he heard a chipper feminine voice.

"Sorry about the spam; I could only track your location while your window was open, and you kept ignoring my messages."

While rotating to face her, Crush coolly stuffed his hands in his pocket. He wanted to appear lax but had grabbed the sleep dart he carried for "unsatisfied" customers. That was the official reason he'd give if discovered. Really, he was worried because he sold soo many items with bogus explanations.

"Come to kill me?" He calmly asked.

"Of course not!" She exclaimed; her voice was just as painfully girly and immature as he envisioned from their text. When he observed her form, he found it to be unexpectedly human. He didn't know what a "core" would look like anyways, probably a massive stone or blob.

She was still far from ordinary while in the shape of a female. She stood as tall as Crush's collarbone, with a slender figure and olive-colored skin accentuated by purple eyeliner. Her black hair had purple highlights, straight-cut bangs, and short, wavy sides.

It was difficult to fathom, but her attire was not made of any science-grounded material like cloth or leather. It was... Space? Stars, galaxies, and millions of glimmers danced on her snugly fitted clothing. Tight and thin like latex, as if a part of her skin.

Her neck-high compressed long-sleeve top defined her womanly form. Her shorts rode down to her upper thigh before cutting off, exposing an inch of her leg. High heel boots made of the same galaxy material resumed where the skin was exposed, dark, and deep.

Star-shaped halos hovered around her wrist and ankles like shackles, but she was far from reserved. "Are you just going to stand there and gawk at us?" She commented.

The girl looked tricky as her weight shifted downwards. She wore a galaxy-forged belt around her lower waist, which held several black kunai and a short sword. Her choice of weapons spoke to her character, but Crush was determined not to be caught off guard.

"How about-," she started with a grin. The mysterious girl bent her knee, then lunged forward at Crush with remarkable force and exclaimed, "A hug!"

She blasted across the land with outreached arms. Just before her embrace could be accepted, Crush bunny hopped to the side of her zooming body. She flew by with a powerful gust, flipped forward, then anchored into the ground before promptly rolling onto her bottom.

"What's this?" She said, observing an item she didn't have seconds ago.

Crush resumed a straight posture after she flew by, then began to fidget with a strange, cold, black compass. "It's called a wallet, and what's this?"

The bizarre girl turned her gaze to Crush, realizing he'd swiped one of her belongings as she flew by. She pointed at him with stupefaction, then yelled, "Thief!"

"I prefer the term opportunist. Besides, you stole my wallet."

She bounced to her feet, tossed the wallet, then exclaimed, "We would have sensed if you used a skill from the thief Class, so how'd you do it!?"

"What Class Crystal are you wearing!" She yelled, closing her hands into the shape of binoculars and aiming at his chest.

Crush nabbed his Class Crystals between his fist so she couldn't see, then recounted, "So, you're a thief? I don't think we saw that option at the beginning. We were only offered Rogue."

"No fair! You know our Class; now tell us yours!" She said with a grump.

"Maybe," muttered Crush. He removed his necklace and stored it in his pocket along with the unidentified item he had swiped. "First, I have a few questions."

She crossed her arms, filled her cheeks with air, and pouted, "Meanie."

Crush took her response as an agreement. Despite her cutesy act, he felt she was more than capable of killing him, let alone just stealing a necklace. Yet, she willingly fell into the role of victim.

An opportunity? Or a trap?