Runner 3

A week passed, and Marcel woke up, his back turned towards the person next to him, whoever it was. Marcel started to rub his head as he picked himself up and walked towards the bathroom. His cheeks had become full, his arms back to what they used to be, and his eyes filled with more life but yet, he could not recognize who he was.

Marcel looked at himself in the mirror, his old clean brown short hair had grown shaggy and long, reaching towards his shoulder. His thin green eyes and thin lips, combined with his light tan skin. Though all of this felt similar to him, he looked as if he had been through a war, a battle of strength and power.

Marcel washed his face and looked again, in anger, he splashed another batch of water, then another, and he kept splashing water on his face. After the tenth splash of water, Marcel looked at his face again, it was still...not him.

Marcel fell back onto the floor, and looked at the ceiling, the nightmares, the deaths, the sacrifices, Marcel sat down and kept looking at the ceiling. Except now he didn't care, now, he just stared, was he worthy, was he worthy of this goal at all?

A knock was heard on the bathroom door as Marcel turned his head slightly to the left.

"Who is it," Marcel said.

"It is Watson,"

"For what, why are you knocking on my door,"

"Just get out of the bathroom for a second for me," Mr. Watson requested.

Marcel quickly grabbed the cold doorknob as he opened the door, he looked up to the towering 6 feet tall Mr. Watson.

Mr. Watson crouched down towards Marcel's height. his eyes facing his.

"Marcel, how are you feeling," Mr. Watson said, putting his palm on his forehead.

"Nothing much, I feel normal but not," Marcel replied.

Mr. Watson looked at him confused before standing up.

"It seems you are not that sick, you are going to be able to travel with us to Lyca, we are going to go through a number of safehouses to make sure we end up where we need to be, and hide that book," Mr. Watson explained.

Marcel looked straight on as he listened to Mr. Watson. His feet creaked the board as Alissa woke up from her sleep, the boy next to her was asleep too.

Mr. Watson slightly pushed the other boy, pushing him slowly to not bother him to sleep too much.

Marcel watched as Mr. Watson tried to wake up the boy, he looked at the wooden planks below him, the dark coarse wood. He dared not to look at Alissa for the week, he did not have a right to. He had killed her siblings and he had killed her family, his family.

Marcel clamped his teeth together and looked towards the future, the past was no longer needed, he needed to achieve his goal. He didn't want to know, but he knew sacrifices and the deaths of his loved ones were going to come along the way. Was he really going to do this, for the sake of his race, he asked himself this, pondering as he looked into deep space.

Marcel watched as the final boy woke up, his dark brown hair, with highlights of gold in the middle and freckles covering his entire face. Marcel looked back on the memories with the boy. The boy was a crybaby, he was too weak to run and play sports, and the only thing he enjoyed was playing with toys.

Marcel looked at the boy as he slowly walked up towards the bathroom, he kept staring, his pupils peering from the corners of his eyes as he watched him go inside the bathroom. Marcel looked away, as he quickly grabbed an extra piece of brown cloth. He took off the top of his old one and tossed it into a bin.

Marcel started to put on this new piece of cloth as he extended his arms out and stretched it out to where it fits nicely but was not too tight on Marcel. Marcel looked at Mr. Watson who was starting to put on a big puffer thick jacket.

Marcel signed to Mr. Watson and Mr. Watson tossed a smaller one to him. Marcel grabbed it in the air, and he quickly put the jacket on. Marcel had not gone with Mr. Watson to the market, and since Mr. Watson saw he was feeling better, he was going to take him out today.

Marcel started to rub his feet into the boots as he stretched out his arms and popped his foot back inside the shoe. Marcel quickly stood up on his feet, wiping down the dust from his straight brown khakis.

"Hey, wear this mask for a second, it's brown, and it matches somewhat with your clothes to so you don't look like one of the homeless, those are the ones they hunt first," Mr. Watson said, tossing the item to Marcel.

Marcel stretched out his hand and grabbed the mask in his palm, he quickly put the mask on his face and started to twist his neck around cracking it.

Mr. Watson went back to the boy and Alissa, crouching down towards them.

"Make sure to stay inside this room, do not open the door to anyone, and make sure to never step a single foot outside this room.

The two kids nodded as Mr. Watson stood up and nudged towards the door. Marcel nodded back towards Mr. Watson as he opened the door, back to the outside world after a week. The lights of the bright orange sun rayed over them as Marcel covered his eyes.

The weather was warm, a few gusts of wind swayed over him, blowing his brown hair to the left, showing only a few strands of his naturally unknown white hair. Mr. Watson walked out, closing the door behind him as he locked the door with his finger.

Marcel looked around, this place was an outdoor tavern, covered with light oak wooden floors, and the top floor was surrounded by a metal systemo railing, as marcel leaned er he saw the people talking below. Their clothes were not messy, nor were they elegant.

"Where in the middle zone aren't we," Marcel concluded.

"Yes, it was a week-long trip, but through two other safehouses, but now we ended up here. Our clothes are fine to get us y in the middle zone for now, with the rest of the middle class." Mr. Watson replied, explaining their past situation.

"So how are we going to blend into Lyca,"

"It matters, maybe grab an elegant coat here and there in the market while we grab some food." Mr. Watson replied.

They both turned to the right and stepped down the wooden planks, the creaking being drowned by the noises of the customers below. Mr. Watson and Marcel quickly walked their way through the people of the crowd. as they shifted left and right, giving gentle shrugs as they tried to move to the exit.

Marcel looked at the people's pockets around him and gulped, as he saw one pouch out in the open marcel quickly pounced at the opportunity and grabbed the pouch. Suddenly Marcel was pouncing his hands around the room, grabbing small pouches left and right, with about ten to twenty gold credits in the pouches.

Once Marcel and Mr. Watson reached the tall open black gate marcel had gotten himself fifty gold credits from the people inside the outdoor tavern.

"Mr. Watson, I think we can afford a lot of items now," Marcel said grinning as he showed Mr. Watson the pouches he stole.

Mr. Watson's eyes widened as he snatched the ouches away from him.

"Marcel we do not steal," Mr. Watson exclaimed in a hushed tone, not trying to attract attention.

"I saw yesterday how many credits we had, only 20 silver, and look what I got us, be grateful," Marcel said in anger.

"Marcel, you must understand, while it may seem like it, being a criminal is not how you succeed, being selfish and prideful is not the way, no, an elf's purpose is to be just, its to be pious," Mr. Watson told Marcel, his hand grabbing his shoulder as he told him this.

Marcel knocked his shoulder away, quickly grabbing the pouches back.

"Well I am going to spend the money, you're not an elf, so you would not understand and let me use this money," Marcel said, running into a crowd inside the town.

Mr. Watson did not chase after Marcel but just sighed as he looked at the metal rusty sign in the sky. The name Middle zone stretched out over it.

"He'll learn, he'll definitely learn," Mr. Watson said, hoping himself up.

Marcel ran through the crowd, the sun's rays arching over him as he got more adjusted to the light. He quickly took a slight left onto the market alleyway, bumping into people as he kept running, the wind dusting on his face as his hair started to slick back, revealing hidden white strands of hair under his dyed brown hair.

Marcel made sure his long brown hair covered his ears. He remembered the day Mr. Watson told him to dye his hair because brown hair was normal and it was better to look normal on this god-forsaken city planet.

Marcel visited different stands, all different from the rest. While some sold cheap ice cream to children, elegant garments and dresses, jewelry from the mountains of the backbones of workers, and even more. Marcel walked in the deep crowds as he looked in towards the stands, their items, and what was worth it to buy.

"Marcel," a voice whispered.

As Marcel looked around he suddenly turned his heel and made a quick stop. He turned to his left as he heard a familiar voice to the left of him. There as he looked in the crowd he looked around and as he looked closer twisted his head around.

As Marcel looked in between the cracks of two people he saw a small child his age, with white hair covering his eyes, facing towards Marcel. Before Marcel could react people walked past his view and suddenly the boy was gone.

As Marcel walked towards the area the boy was in he stood on top of a singular marble stone surrounded by brown bricks covering the road. Marcel looked to his left and saw a stand, on the stands sign it read, Systemo Water.

Marcel had heard about this type of systemo, where if the user drinks the water it could increase the amount of systemo in their body, it could make peasant's clothes elegant, and most importantly with enough force, it can get rid of systemo in certain areas.

Marcel walked up to the stand, curious, he rubbed his eyes making sure he wasn't hallucinating again like before. It truly was a blessing this stand.

As the man tried to call people to his stand Marcel walked up to him handing him the five pouches of gold he had just stolen.

"How many bottles can this buy," Marcel said.

"8 liters boy," The prok replied, peering over the stand to face the boy. "You're one tall boy too, where your papa at," The prok continued.

"My papa isn't here, only me,"

"Well, I'm afraid I can't sell it to you."

Marcel was taken aback by the prok's rejection to buy the water liters. Marcel didn't know much about business negotiations but this time he could try.

"I know this amount is worth 2 liters more, accept this deal, and it'll be the best one of your week," Marcel argued.

"You're a confident child," The prok smirked "Still the answer is no."

Marcel held his anger in as he balled his fists in.

"Please, sir I need this, for my family's sake," Marcel pleaded, giving his best innocent boy impression.

As Marcel slowly took off his mask, to try to improve the feeling of desperation the prok suddenly realized something and he smiled. The prok looked at the boy's clothes and sighed, smirking as he quickly rummaged through his pockets.

"You don't seem that well off, and I know you had probably stolen that money but that is none of my business." The prok said, grabbing the pouches as he handed Marcel the liters of systemo water.

Marcel grabbed the bottles in joy as he quickly thanked the prok and continued on his merry day. The shopkeeper smiled back and waved to Marcel which he waved back.

The shopkeeper's smile immediately went blank as he touched his ear.

"Ryo, he's at the tavern near me," the shopkeeper said, walking away from the stand to the tied-up old man in the back behind the gigantic piece of cloth.

"Thank you for letting me borrow this stand," The shopkeeper-now agent said.

The old man struggled as he looked up at a knife going towards his forehead as he was eventually cleanly stabbed.

"A job well done," The agent said, his alligator formed snout suddenly grew smaller, his eyes which used to be round and calm turned piercing, and suddenly the skinny prok had grown 2 in height and grew muscles on his back, the nametag of Ammu flashing towards the orange sun.

The prok grabbed a cigar and smoked it in his mouth as he walked out of the stand, towards the tavern, towards Marcel.

Marcel ran to the tavern overjoyed by the kindness of the prok. As Marcel pulled up towards the tavern in a slight sprint he looked around. Suddenly a firm hand grasped Marcel's shoulder and he immediately jumped back.

"Sorry to spook you, Marcel," Mr. Watson quickly continued before Marcel threw a hit.

"You scared me,"

"Well it's fine, show me what you ordered with that money," Mr. Watson said, a hint of disappointment in the air.

Marcel shrugged him off as he started to walk back to the tavern. Mr. Watson started to rub his eyes as he followed Marcel.

Marcel started to untangle the bag and showed Mr. Watson the systemo water bottles. Mr. Watson's eyes gleamed in a greedy manner until he rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"We are going to talk later, for now, let us go to the room," Mr. Watson said walking up the stairs.

Marcel sighed, waiting for another lecture. Before Mr. Watson had met him, back when he was on the streets he had picked up a treat for stealing and while he hadn't done it in so long, he had finally relapsed.

Suddenly the guilt washed over him as he realized what he had just done, he had used dirty money. Marcel kept his head low as Mr. Watson started to fidget with the door trying to keep it open, the sun had started to remain high in the sky, with no concurrent time of the sunset.

As the wooden door creaked open Marcel and Mr. Watson were met with a scary sight. They looked inside and an aura that was even worse than the ones before had just come. The dark greenish extended outside the room as both Mr. Watson and Marcel felt it.

Inside the two kids whimpered as small earthly needles pointed toward them.

"You really didn't think I would not have found you right," Ryo said, smiling gleefully as Marcel and Mr. Watson watched in horror.