While One Plans

He didn't quite hit the mark on his spell, but he got pretty close when he landed on one of the ships heading to port in the city. No one heard when his body hit the deck, the storm covering the sound as they were nestled between shipping containers and crates, hidden from the view of any sailors who might have passed by. His breaths came in ragged pants, his lungs compressing and expanding wildly as they sat on the edge of hyperventilation. They didn't even attempt to sit up, eyes clouding over with rain and tears as he tried over and over to control himself, only to fail and pass out. Their skin regained a little color, moisture returning as blood and cells replenished and revitalized, more energy to use in the open air than in the ground. After a while all that remained as proof of the ordeal was the wrinkles around his eyes and the white in his hair.

Once the ship made port, it took three days to find Xinyi's unconscious form in the containers, still out cold and awkwardly sprawled over several barrels. He was rushed to the hospital immediately, given urgent care as the ship's crew was questioned but gave no answers. It took three weeks for Xinyi to regain consciousness, and three days for him to be released from the hospital with three things. His belongings from where he was changed into a hospital gown, a prescription to get filled, and a notice from the police.

He stared down at the notice as he felt the numb rage crawl up his spine and situate itself in his brain. He dragged his feet as he made the trek from the upper districts where the hospital was, through the upper residential area, and to his old shit box. The little apartment in the 8th district was still the same as they left it, if far dustier after the years of misuse. He trudged in, not kicking his shoes off like he would normally, sitting down to take them off at the door. He stripped as he made his way through the narrow, dark halls and into the cramped bathroom. The water here took 2 minutes to heat up and was only hot for 10, so showers lasted for 3 for optimal heat. He remembered this, but he didn't wait the two minutes, and as he scrubbed at the sharpie on his back that wouldn't come off, tears streaming down his face and screams catching in his throat so he didn't get noise complaints because of the thin walls, the shower definitely lasted more than three, more than 10 even.

Stepping out of the shower, he didn't even bother to find a towel, only pulling his clothes back on and trudging back out of the house. He debated going to tell the detectives about what happened, but the rage he felt told him that would only end in disaster. This was their fault after all, wasn't it? But he knew the answer was no. They couldn't tell the rage that though, it was rage. As soon as it had a target to take itself out on, it would do so, and if it was the wrong person, Xinyi was remiss to think about what he would have to do.

Instead, Xinyi focused their efforts on hunting. They wanted the worst the world had to offer tonight, filling and delicious. Taste was a minor factor though, power was the reason he was hunting the scum that committed atrocities and crimes against humanity. They did so for hours, hunting the sweet smells on the air, devouring their weight in power so they could drown out their own emotions, and coming very close to exploding with it before they dragged themself back to their shitty little apartment and collapsed onto the shitty little bed. Dust kicked up and irritated his eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He couldn't sleep, but he couldn't move either, limbs locked with the power running its course and fueling their recovery. They stared at the ceiling and contemplated what they were to do now, and then they decided there was nothing too it but to hunt the brat down, make him get rid of the fucking sharpie, and then take his life before whatever sickness he had could take it first.

Xinyi let himself feel, let himself be devoured, and then as the power settled and his eyelids grew heavy, he forced himself to the ground. He pushed up and began to move through the apartment on silent feet, heading to the tiny hall closet he kept the cleaning supplies in. The entire apartment was subject to cleaning, top to bottom, wall to wall. The windows, sinks, toilet, shower, spare room, floors. Everything he could get his hands on was subject to cleaning, and then he settled his mind on the plan, on his hunt.

His arsenal went up in flames with the rest of the stuff in his den, so he'd have to get new weapons alongside some new money. He had some in the apartment as its use was always to become a spare safehouse, but he didn't have nearly enough. He knew the bank would be risky, especially if he was still legally considered dead, but he needed to maintain some semblance of his civilian identity. He was left with a lot of options, especially since he was cut short a few options because of the damn array.

Calm was forced over him by himself as he unclenched his fist from around the spray bottle in their hand. They put the supplies away and began to rearrange the furniture, shaping it to look more like their old den. It wasn't the same, and they hopefully wouldn't be here for too long, but it would do for now.

First order of business was tracking and casing the kid. Weapons were useless if Xinyi didn't know what they were up against.