I can't go back to Eferdom

Gorgon's heavy footsteps echoed through the filthy passages of the camp, as he marched towards Bezix's tent. The air was thick with tension, and the smell of blood hung in the air, almost suffocating.

As he pushed the tent flap aside, he was met with the sight of Bezix hunched over his weapon, sharpening it with a cold determination.

Gorgon's eyes darted around the tent, taking in the scattered weapons and blood-stained clothes. He shook his head in frustration, his mind still reeling from the news he had just received.

"What do I have to hear now?" he barked, as he stepped towards Bezix. "My best assassin can't deal with a sleeping person?"

Bezix looked up, his face obscured by a cloth mask that covered his features. He was angry, he was disappointed with himself and with Gorgon for not acknowledging his years of service and loyalty.

But there was little time for introspection, as Gorgon grabbed Bezix by the collar, holding his serrated blade to his neck.

The cold metal pressed against his skin, but Bezix was not afraid. He was angry, yes, but also determined. He knew he had let his guard down, and he had paid the price for it. Gorgon was right - what use was an assassin who couldn't even kill a sleeping person? He swallowed his pride and accepted his punishment, hoping to make amends and regain Gorgon's trust.

Gorgon's eyes bore into Bezix's, his anger palpable. "No more fuck-ups," he spat, his grip tightening on the collar. "Now your assignment is just to keep an eye on Arvish. Don't let him leave the camp."

Bezix nodded, his eyes never leaving Gorgon's. He knew what was at stake - failure was not an option. Gorgon released him, and he fell back into his seat.

"Do you think you can manage that, huh?" Gorgon asked. "I hope there is enough room for this on your plate."

Bezix couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment. He had given everything to this camp, to Gorgon, and yet he was still treated like a mere pawn. But he quickly shook off those thoughts, focusing instead on the assignment. He had a job to do, and he would not fail again.

As Gorgon stormed out of the tent, Bezix went back to sharpening his weapon with renewed focus, his thoughts consumed by the task at hand.

****

Arvish and the woman settled into his tent, the bright light of the sun casting shadows on the rough fabric walls. Arvish was intimidated by the situation. He had a woman for his needs, and it made him uneasy.

For a moment, he thought that Gorgon was not that wrong after all. But he shook that thought out of his head. No, this is not the way he wanted to live.

"So, what is your name?" he asked, trying to break the silence.

"I'm Maria," answered the woman, peeking out of a hole in the tent. "Your tent is close to the edge of the camp. We could escape easily, but only at night, when they can't see us crossing the big open landscape toward the city. Otherwise, they will come after us and hunt us down."

"I can't do that," Arvish replied, shaking his head.

Maria was stunned. "I saw that you don't want to be here either. They just want to use you like everyone else. Gorgon is a piece of sh*t. Even in Eferdom, there is a better life."

"I can't go back to Eferdom either after what I done," said Arvish, his voice sad and tired. "I have been searching for the resistance. That's how I ended up here."

"You came here because of that?" Maria asked, her tone skeptical. Arvish nodded as an answer.

The woman thought for a bit, weighing her options. She had no choice. "They are in Eferdom. I can lead you to them if you help me escape."

Maria rolled up her sleeve, revealing a tattoo of an eye on her right forearm. "I am one of them," she said simply.

"Wait, hold on," Arvish said, his mind racing. "You're telling me that you operate from there? Hmm, that would explain how you sent that drone."

"What drone?" Maria asked, her eyes narrowing.

"I was chased by the police, then a drone showed up, saying it was here to help—"

"Yeah, we don't have time for this," Maria cut in, her impatience clear. "We need to escape during the feast."

Arvish thought about it. Finally, he could find the resistance if he helped Maria, but…

"I can't do that," he said firmly.

"What do you mean you can't do that?" Maria asked, her voice rising. "You just said that you wanted to join them."

"I can't leave everyone here to suffer. I need to free the people," Arvish said, his gaze unwavering.

Maria was stunned. A man who didn't just think about himself. He reminded her of Ethan. Because of him, that she had joined the resistance's fight against the rulers.

Arvish sat in the tent, deep in thought. He knew what he had to do, but he didn't know how to do it. He couldn't leave the camp without being seen, but he couldn't stay and let Gorgon and the rulers continue to control everyone's lives.

"How do you want to achieve this?" Maria asked.

"I will break the cages and get everyone out," Arvish said confidently.

"Too loud, too big of a commotion. It will end as quickly as you start. And for this, they will kill everyone. So with your plan, you just killed everyone that you wanted to save," Maria bickered.

Arvish didn't like the thought of innocent lives being lost because of his actions. But he couldn't just sit idly by and watch these people suffer.

"I will defend them with this," he said, showing Maria his prosthetic hand.

"It's a great weapon. Maybe you could do this plan of yours with it. But what if the sheer number of enemy overwhelms you?" Maria asked. "No, we need to be smarter."

Arvish leaned forward, his eyes fixed intently on Maria. "What do you propose, then?" he asked, his tone curious.

Maria's mind raced as she considered her options. They needed to be careful if they were going to attempt this. Saving everyone here was all well and good, but Maria wasn't about to throw her life away for some small, ego-driven mission to save a few people. She had a bigger goal, one that involved the resistance.

"We need a key," Maria said finally, her voice low and urgent.

****

Nikodem had always been a man of means, and he had spared no expense in creating the perfect home for himself. His penthouse sat at the very top of a skyscraper, with stunning views of the city below.

Everywhere you looked, there was a work of art to admire, from the sculptures that adorned the walls to the paintings that hung in every room.

Nikodem lay in his bed, his frail body hooked up to various medical machines that beeped and whirred in the background. A servant stood by his bedside, waiting for any request he might have.

A doctor shuffled through his papers, his eyes focused on the documents in front of him. "You are near the end, Mr. Nikodem," the doctor said. "It's a miracle that you've made it to the age of hundred and twelve. I'm afraid there's not much more we can do for you. You've simply run out of time."

Nikodem's eyes blazed with anger, but to an onlooker, it would have seemed like he was simply in pain.

"I need more time, Doctor," Nikodem said. "Just a little more. What can we do?"

The doctor sighed, knowing what Nikodem was going to ask for. "Well, for starters, you would need a new heart. But with your condition, no hospital would put you on the transplant list."

Nikodem's eyes narrowed. "I have the money," he said. "I can pay for whatever it takes."

The doctor hesitated. "I understand that, Mr. Nikodem. But with your age-"

Before the doctor could finish his sentence, Nikodem pulled out a gun and shot the servant standing by his bedside. Blood spattered across the room, staining the expensive carpet.

The doctor gasped, his eyes widening in shock. "What are you doing?" he cried out.

"I just found a donor," Nikodem said, his eyes cold and calculating.