012

She fired twice through my barrier, destroying it before lunging towards me. I didn't have time to react as she slashed through my chest. Sending me back.

She aimed her gun at me, I hit her hand with my staff, blasting it as the gun fired high into the sky. In the opening, I slashed towards her chest. Though she deflected it.

Then, back and forth she fired her guns as I deflected it away. And with each slash, slash, slash, between the both of us, our bodies became sore. Even in the cold winds of the storm I felt my body hotter. Our wounds, sorer than before as blood dripped from each step we took.

"You even have his skills." She spat on the ground and with unrelenting speed, charged at me. Slashing through my chest as I almost failed to properly deflect it. In the heat of the exchange I forgot about her guns, pointed at my stomach. She pulled the trigger, and, 'click'. She pulled it again, another click. The click grew louder as she kept on pulling, echoing through the dark alleyways.

I kicked her away, as she laughed. Laughed hysterically, throwing her gun away. "You don't have to do this, Cecil!" I exclaimed, both of us were exhausted, wounded.

"You don't get it don't you?"

"Yeah! I have no clue what's going on, why are you doing this?"

"Didn't I already tell you? You're not him," She said through shallow breaths, with the last of her energy spent on raising her knife, "You're an impostor, a fugitive." Her voice cracked into a silent sob, "I want him back! And if it means killing you. Then I'd gladly do so!" With those last words, she lunged at me.

Momentarily, I was distracted by her words. Distracted that I never managed to react to her attack, as it slashed through my clothes tearing through my skin, through the flesh of my chest. It was a shallow cut, but painful nonetheless.

She punched my gut and charged another attack. But she stopped, stopped as if her muscles failed to move. "Go for it! I can't hold onto her muscles much longer!" Haya yelled aloud as I stabbed her stomach.

She yelled loudly, dropping her knife, that was my chance as I plunged my knife deep into her, and with the last of my fighting strength, sliced her open the best I could. As we both dropped into the ground.

I breathed heavily, feeling my eyes grow heavier. "I'm using the excess Terrium in your book to strengthen you. We have to get out of here." Haya explained, I felt my body grow stronger as I tried to stand up, the wound wasn't healing. "I can't heal it properly out here, I've located Twain. We can probably go to him."

"Sure…" I breathed roughly, "Sure." I looked at the commander, her guts spilling out of her. And her eyes, staring straight at me. But I didn't feel anger, nor pain, I felt her sadness as her pupils shook as if to cry. For a moment, I saw her mouth words I can't realize. Then, she closed her eyes, and it all stopped.

I limped out into the harsh, conflicting neon lights of the city. Between the dirtiness and exotic clothing of the people all around, I feel like my wounded self is not out of place. I sighed. I never liked the red district.

I hailed a cab, stopping slowly in front of me. Slowly, I opened the door and sat at the back. I breathed a sigh of relief. Relief to feel that I've actually rested. Haya made sure to disable the tracking in the cab.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked, his voice was calm. Sort of unfazed by the mess I'm putting in his backseats. I pointed at his gps, and fired my finger like a gun as it activated. Leading him somewhere off the city, "Got it, chief."

The taxi started to move as I sat comfortably in the seats, ignoring the pool of blood. I stared out the window, out the city. Contemplating what Cecil said earlier, I would ask Haya, but I haven't heard from her in a while.

The taxi stopped. I saw a man outside, dirty and ragged, flowering a small field of poppies in the middle of a sidewalk. I then see three men, perhaps guards from the store in front, approached him and talked to him. Perhaps things got heated as two of the guards kept the man steady as the third beat him up. Right there, in the middle of a busy sidewalk. No one cared. Not one person, not when each punch connected, not when they threw him down the field of poppies.

The light turned green, and the taxi moved on. I looked back at the homeless man, seeing him kneel in front of the field of poppies that he watered. His face was blank. "Poor guy, eh?" The driver started.

"Huh?" I replied.

"That homeless guy, saw him everyday waterin' those flowers. Heard from some folks that the store owner up front thinks that those poppies're ruinin' the view in front." He explained, followed by a sigh of disbelief, "Maybe that's why, eh?"

"I see, do you know him?" I questioned, for a moment we stared each other through the mirror. There was a long moment of silence as I saw his eyes move between staring at me and focusing on the road.

"You galactic agents really like em probing questions huh?"

"It's in the job." We silently laughed it off.

"That man's my father. He abandoned me, I abandoned him. Better than him leechin' off my gains." He said. I felt no sense of remorse in his voice, "Just hope the guy put as much bravery in his life as he did when he left mine."

"Ah." Ah. That's all I could muster, a long silence fell inside the car. It was always awkward to talk to public transportation drivers.

"That said, what's a galactic agent hitchin a cab… all bloody and all?" He asked, there was a genuine hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Brawl, might not be one tomorrow." I tried to laugh it off, but I knew I'll be a wanted man, "Best not to ask, honestly."

"Gotcha, chief." The cab ride continued. Eventually, we left the red light district into the various districts of the city. Into a small village just outside, into the very outskirts.

Eventually, we reached a forest. After much deliberation, the driver decided not to head in. Perhaps fearing for his safety. I paid with what little money I had and left the cab as it headed back to the city.

I, however, went inside the forest. If Haya's details are right, Jeremiah Twain would be in a cottage deep inside the place.