The annoying sound the heels of my shoes made when they hit against the tarred ground of Wall Street echoed endlessly as I walked with slow, cautious steps.
The street wasn't as dark as I thought it to be. I mean, sure, it was hard to see as I had to squint and strain my eyes just to get a good view of my surroundings, but it wasn't so dark that I couldn't make out where I was going.
The street was a narrow one. There were no buildings, and there were no people either. Just large walls that loomed on both sides of the street.
Those walls formed some sort of demarcation between the slightly dark, narrow space in which I walked and the rest of the road.
I guess that was the reason it was named Wall Street.
The more I walked, the more I got tired of walking.
My fists clenched inside the pockets of my coat. And the faint breeze that cascaded through the air in this area blew softly against my lips, cooling my face and eliminating any signs of sweat that threatened to form.
My strained gaze remained focused, flickering forward. But there was nothing to see. It was all darkness with no end in sight.
Is this not the infamous Wall Street where the Cyclo gang resides?
A faint sound rang out behind me. It was a small sound, like that of a rock dropping.
I paused immediately, turning my neck over my shoulder. I furrowed eyebrows, slightly tilting my head as my narrowed grey gaze scanned the area where I had strode from.
A particular feeling crept up my spine, tangling against my ribs with a locked, heightened precision.
It was an instinctual feeling that I never, ever ignored. It always saved me during tight times. I thought it equivalent to what one would call a gut feeling.
That meant something was wrong.
Something was terribly wrong, and I had no idea what it was.
Am I being followed?
I squinted my eyes, straining and fixing my gaze to properly study the entrance of the street.
But I don't see anyone.
Both the entrance of the street and outside of it were the only areas where the warm rays of the morning sun touched.
Come to think of it, why is this place as dark as this?
"Does the sun even shine here?"
The very moment I asked myself this question, a chill rang and echoed deep within my brain, causing me to shake my head incessantly. It felt like my brain was being... tickled.
Then, a sudden question erupted from nowhere. But the question felt like it was the right thing to ask at the moment:
'Why have I not looked upward ever since I walked into this street?'
My chest froze, literally congealed as I puffed it up with a quick, large nasal breath.
I knew that there was only one answer to my question.
To look upward.
But my damned neck refused to comply. It was like my brain — using my neck — protested against the unavoidable, eventual realization of what might have hovered above me.
I forced my neck into motion, raising it slowly and slowly. My gaze trailed upward with the same slow speed and unsettling motion. Until my gaze finally glued skyward.
My heart was the first to react. It danced, moved and trembled in pure, unadulterated awe as my widened eyes bore witness to the magnificent sight that cast its shadows upon the entire street.
My hands trembled within my pocket. But I took them off, cleaning the non-existent sweat that swam on my wrinkled-up forehead.
Then, I lowered my gaze, focusing on the one pothole that lay on the ground, just a few inches away from my leg. It was an unusual pothole, as it was present in a street whose tarred road was as smooth as… something smooth.
I wiped my eyes with my fingers. I won't lie, it felt more like I was scratching my eyes than wiping them. Because, I couldn't understand the sheer absurdity of all that I had witnessed in this street.
I knew I shouldn't have quit smoking. Now I'm seeing things.
I let out a soft, resigned sigh.
"This is definitely not my imagination. It's a…" My words trailed off as I looked upward once more.
I still can't believe it.
"A floating building." I finished.
My gaze intently zeroed in on the metallic plates that formed the bottom area of the floating building.
The large building loomed above the walls of the street. And the building directly blocked the shine of the sun, leaving only faint, almost scarce rays of sunlight that weakly poured through tiny spaces. Those spaces were areas where the rectangular shaped building couldn't cover. And if I were to guess, they were also the reasons why I could see faintly in the half-dark of this street.
The bottom area of the building was visible for some odd reason. And as a result, I could see the material from which it was made.
Metal. And a very expensive one at that. It was not the usual block building I had seen ever since I could remember.
In the first place, how does one even get a hold of such… technology in the backlands?
It makes no sense.
But, I guess nothing ever made sense from the beginning. Much like how the fact that I want to start a rebellion doesn't make sense.
I slowly shook my head, and my dry, cracked lips widened slightly as I let out a malicious scoff.
"I'll assume that this is where the Cyclo Gang resides," I muttered to myself, my voice was still a bit shaky. The vibrant awe had yet to fully subside. "Taking that assumption into account, how do I get in?"
It wasn't like there was a manual or something that described how to get inside a floating building. This was the exact reason why I strongly disliked complex technology.
But if the gangsters built this floating building deliberately, to avoid being taken unaware by their enemies, then they had greatly achieved what they aimed for. But, if it was just for mere aesthetics, then they were all stupid.
"Should I just jump in?" I pondered to myself, my gaze marking the square area on the metallic plates of the building.
That square area looked like a door. One that could fit an average-sized adult.
I'll break the door.
I wasted no time, crouching immediately. My calves bulged, raw strength raced within them. My gaze remained focused on that door.
Then, I leaped.