Ashcote's central bus station was heavily crowded and boisterous. People were running around constantly as if they were waves coming and going, ever keeping the ocean that was the bus station rumbling. Stores and stands, mainly of food, scattered around, looking to bring in whatever coin would come in their way in those desperate days of poverty.
Demilan saw the place from a positive point of view, preferring to appreciate the cleanliness and lack of any graffiti of mob gang dictums. It felt like a nice change compared to everything he had seen so far in that city. Having spent most of his life in Exumber, he started missing his old hometown, as by now he had grown weary of Ashcote and its overbearing presence of Men of Midas members. Surely, the golden thugs were present in Exumber as well, but everyone knew that Code Sanguinary were the ruling force in that city.
He sat on a bench next to Maileena, reading the country's leading newspaper, The Heart of the Country, with the side-purpose of hiding his and Maileena's face behind it. His eyes were red with fatigue and his body was still weak from the rehabilitation process. His fingers slightly trembled as he held the paper. The black duffel bag rested on the bench right beside him, with all of his weapons hidden in it, including his black knife. Maileena had a small bag next to her as well, packed with some food and water. She insisted on keeping her revolver hidden in the back of her pants, concealed under her black jacket, instead of being put away in the bag.
Maileena looked nervous. She was constantly biting her lower lip and clenching and flexing her hands.
"Relax," Demilan said to her.
"Don’t tell me to relax. We're very wanted people by now, Demilan. We shouldn’t be in such a crowded place." She was incensed. "What are we even doing here?"
"Let me show you." Demilan rifled through the newspaper, flipping through various articles. One article was about the possible candidate to go against Gerald Conrad for the next presidential elections, Roger Strickland, an up and coming political figure who's long been rumored to be seeking the throne of the Segregated Quarter. Another article was about a famous pop singer's upcoming album, soon to be released by Golden Key Records, owned by Reus Mallistrom. Demilan's eyes narrowed as he read the name. And the evils prosper… he thought.
After going through those pages, he finally found the article he was looking for. "That's why we're here." He showed Maileena the paper. The headline was written in big, bold letters: "The Deserter General Goes Free," accompanied by a picture of Charles Blackburn below it. Dressed in orange uniform and handcuffed, the old ringleader had a surly expression. The article went on to describe how the trial, which took place behind closed doors, ended with Blackburn's exoneration over a technicality. It didn’t specify which technicality it was, adding that the police refused to give away any information about it to the press. The next day, the bodies of 3 people were thrown at APD's station doors in Morth City, Fallhalt. The ones of the judge, state attorney and lead investigator of the case. Code Sanguinary may have died down over these past few years, but Blackburn's still got it.
"What is this? Why are you showing me this article?" Maileena asked.
"Blackburn is free, so now we're going to get to Exumber, where his outpost is, and ask for some help."
"Are you insane? Did you forget that Blackburn kicked you out of Code Sanguinary for taking Vex? Why would he help you?"
"I wouldn’t go through all this trouble and risk if I wasn’t sure of this plan. Trust me, the Code Sanguinary outpost is where we need to go now."
Maileena looked hesitant. She was still a bit shaken by the recent attempt on her life by a member of Men of Midas and Demilan knew how crazy going to Blackburn sounded like, but he felt confident about that plan. "Blackburn won't hurt me. He wouldn’t kill an ex-soldier of his. Trust me, I know him."
"Alright," Maileena surrendered. "I just wish we had your motorcycle so we could get there quickly and safely." With Demilan's current shape, he wasn’t fit to drive the motorcycle. Thus, the two were forced to leave it by the apartment building when they left it in a hurry.
"Don’t worry. We'll be alright." His voice sounded calm. "Anyway, the bus to Exumber will be here soon."
Maileena looked away in silence. She was clearly disturbed by something. Her eyes said it like an open book. "You're worried about Vera, aren’t you?" Demilan knew her well enough by now to guess it.
"Do you…?" she held back the question at first, but then she went ahead with it, her voice dipped in fear. "Do you think they're still alive, Vera and Telia?"
A wave of uncertainty washed over Demilan. What do I say? I'm not sure myself, but… I don’t want her to worry… I also don’t want to lie to her… "Fuck, what am I saying?" she said, saving him from the question. "They have to be alive," She said, full of confidence.
"Of course," Demilan agreed with her, despite being more hopeful than sure of the matter. He held his dream catcher necklace in his hand. As he clutched it, he imagined that he was clutching Telia's hand and a sense of sorrow came over him. Wait for me, Telia. Please… just be okay. I'll be with you again shortly.
"How's your sleep?" Maileena asked him.
"My sleep?"
"Yeah, you know… the nightmares." She looked down at the necklace.
"Oh… it's… it's not good. I still have them." They were just as worse as they were before he ever met Telia. Each night brought a new slew of horrors to hunt Demilan in the realm of dreams. Most of the times, the nightmares repeated themselves, yet on other occasions, they were something he had never experienced before. Those were the ones who dreaded him the most.
"You've been talking a lot in your sleep lately. I've heard you say all kinds of things. Especially…" something stopped her from going on.
"What? Say it."
"Well… I heard you say things like: 'they're on fire! Someone, help them!' and stuff about breaking your orders." Demilan bowed down his head. The necklace dropped from his hand and returned to dangle from his neck. He looked as if he was reliving a traumatic event at that moment. "Are you… having nightmares about the Tearful Rebellion?"
"It's nothing new," He said. "They almost always revolve around it."
"You never actually told me what happened back then. What you saw and did."
"It's not really a pleasant topic." He only ever talked about those things with Telia.
"I know. It's okay if you don’t want to talk about it. It was rude of me to—"
"No, it's fine." He looked at her. "Do you really want to know?"
"Yes."
Demilan made a long sigh. He was always ashamed of this weakness of his, being an experienced warrior, with skills and proficiency that defined him as a deadly killer. The memories of that single event haunted him for so long that he almost forgot what he was like before it all happened. Before the people of the country rebelled against President Christopher Alford and demanded a better tomorrow in a land that had long been forgotten in the yesterday and had never given a damn about today.
"It was two weeks after the Rebellion started. The Heart was packed with angry mobs and armed soldiers. All the streets and roads were closed off. The Segregated Quarter was surrounded by military special forces that were protecting it, and the rebels were constantly trying to break through to get to the president and his men. They were mad. Some of them had signs calling for Alford's resignation… and some had weapons. The government had zero tolerance for armed rebels. They considered them just as much as a threat as Carl Gardner was when he tried to assassinate President Dwight Hamilton 2 years earlier. The Segregated Quarter was built to prevent such things from ever happening again… and now they felt like their lives were in danger." Demilan clenched his hand and ground his teeth. His forehead shrunk and wrinkled as his eyes narrowed. "We all knew they weren't in any real danger. They just panicked. No one anticipated the magnitude of those uprisings. I mean, there were thousands of people out there on the streets. And that's when Alford decided to send in a special military unit to take care of the armed rebels. I was part of that unit. We were sent to Harlington Square, where the rebels put up a decent fight. Today, that square is rebuilt. It looks as if nothing ever happened there, but back then it was… such a wreck. We lost some good men back there. The rebels placed shooters on high vantage points. They had the tactical advantage on us. That's when we were ordered to start using our grenade launchers. I was appalled. I thought our purpose was to make them surrender at minimal cost, but… it all quickly became so much bloodier than I ever thought it would." He closed his eyes as if he saw the pictures in his mind again. His lips trembled. He could envision it all too well. Even the sounds rang in his ear as if it was taking place right then and there. He remembered hearing the shriek of bullets as they flew inches next to him. He remembered dragging one of his fellow wounded soldiers to a safe place, under a rain of fire and blood. He remembered all the carnage and death that happened by the end of that battle. "The explosions from the grenades… it was horrible. Body parts were flying all over… people were bleeding on the ground, begging for mercy… and in the end, what few that remained of that force of rebels got themselves cornered behind a truck. 'We surrender!' they called at us. 'Please, stop shooting! We give up!' I heard them. We all heard them. And when the order came to disregard their pleas and kill them anyway I refused to do it." He still remembered the cold, heartless tone in which his commander gave the order. "I called at my fellow squad mates to let them drop their weapons and surrender, but… they said we had our orders. 'Fuck those orders!' I remember saying. But they didn’t listen to me. They fired another grenade at them. They didn’t even care. I felt as if I was a madman, as I was the only one who didn’t see them as worthless meat. Everyone else just… blindly obeyed. Those few rebels didn’t die like the rest that did before. The explosion wasn’t close enough to kill them, but it was just close enough to catch them on fire. They screamed and ran like maniacs as they were burned alive. My squad just stood and watched. And so did I. I wished I could save them, but I couldn’t." He could hear their screams in his head again. It felt so vivid that he almost called out for someone to save them. He remembered their flesh blackening and filling up with blisters. When they finally stopped screaming the silence that followed was revealed to be just as scarring and frightening. "There were so many things that I saw back then. They never let go of me. When Blackburn announced that he was resigning as a military General and called for others to do the same, I followed him without a second thought."
"Fuck…" Maileena summarized her reaction. Her mouth remained open for a minute later before she could digest all the grisly details. "My grandma always told me that I was lucky to be young enough to never have known about what happened during those riots, and I've heard stories, but…"
"I try to avoid looking back at it. Those weeks were the longest ones in my life."
"No one should go through what you did." She touched his shoulder, looking deep into his eyes with every inch of empathy in her body.
"I can say the same thing about you," he said.
"I didn’t go through war."
"But you did go through hell." Their eyes met, and hers glittered. While Demilan could only guess what it was like to work at the Godly Succubi, he was perhaps the only person who could get close enough to understanding what it was to bear scars like hers.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," she nodded her head. "And I was one of the few who were dumb enough to step into that hell willingly."
"You had good intentions."
"For people like Kleon Hanford, it doesn’t matter if you have good intentions or bad ones. We all went through the same shit. Most of the girls in the Godly Succubi, underage or not, came from foreign countries through Herkin Port. Many of them were kidnapped and were forcibly brought there. Others were just homeless or poor." While the words seemed to be coming out of her mouth easily, Demilan knew that it was not the case. "Kleon had living quarters in the VIP section. Bunk beds in small rooms, mostly roach-infested and rarely ever cleaned. Most of the girls in the club stayed in those living rooms, having nowhere else to go. Only a handful few were local and had a home, and I happened to be one of those few. Kleon allowed the few of us to let them go home at the end of the day as if we had finished out shift at their decent, honest job, but he let us know that if we'd try to run away from him, he would hunt them down, so barely no one ever tried… but I tried…" Demilan remembered how he found her in that warehouse, getting raped and beaten by several of Kleon's men. "If you hadn’t showed up in that warehouse… I don’t know where I would’ve been."
"Do you regret ever going to that place?"
"Well, now that they've taken Vera, yeah, of course, but… at the time when I first started there, I don’t think I was that much filled with regret. The money Kleon paid for each of his girls was more than any job I had before, and I was able to finally provide for Vera. He used to promise the girls who were homeless and had to live in his club that once they would reach a certain amount of earnings he'll let them buy their own freedom. I'm not sure that he was sincere. I don’t think I ever saw any of the girls do that."
"No one should need to buy their own freedom." the notion made him sick and angry. "No one should have to go through what you did."
"Yeah, well, that what people like us are for. To right the wrongs." She looked up at him.
Demilan chuckled. "Right."
"We are not a rotten apple. We are a good apple on a bad tree."
"We are a good apple on a bad tree," he repeated her words with a hint of a smile on his face.
