"Call me Mora. Welcome to Indi(e)go. This time, my partner and I will be guiding you."
"Huh? Guiding... me?" Raden's face twisted in confusion.
Moments later, his legs gave out. His head spun, vision swimming with dancing lights. For a few seconds, his steps became uncontrollable, swaying like a man drunk out of his mind.
Seeing Raden crumble, Mora caught him, pulling him into an embrace. Raden's limbs were limp and heavy in her arms.
"You must be exhausted running from the police, huh?" Mora asked, her body still supporting his weight.
"I... Yeah."
From the medical bay, a door slid open with a soft hiss. Behind it stood the man Raden had carried earlier. He was now dressed in a T-shirt and a casual button-down. He walked slowly down the corridor, drawn by the sound of Raden's groans echoing through the hall.
Reaching them, the man stared at Raden, then arched a brow at Mora.
"Mora, what's going on?"
Mora looked up at the man. "Michael, you're recovered?"
"More or less. What's wrong with the brat?"
"He seems weak. Either he hasn't eaten or he lacks rest. Take him to get some food," Mora replied.
Michael sighed. "Is that so... fine. By the way, you should just be honest that we're siblings, not just coworkers."
Mora rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."
Michael stepped behind Mora to look at Raden's face. "Hey, you eaten yet?"
Raden lifted his head slowly and shook it.
"Ah, I see... But you can still walk a bit, right?"
Raden nodded weakly.
Michael took Raden from Mora, helping him find his footing. Slowly, Raden tried to rise, forcing himself to stand upright.
"I'll leave you to it, then. I have unfinished work," Mora said. She turned and walked back into the depths of the building, leaving Michael and Raden behind.
Michael and Raden walked out the main entrance. From the outside, the building displayed a massive sign: Indi(e)go Inc.
Raden stumbled again, lurching like a drunkard, but Michael steadied him before he could crash into anything.
"You okay?" Michael asked.
Raden shook his head rapidly. "Yeah, just a little dizzy."
Michael smiled and helped him walk slowly again.
Minutes into the journey, Raden managed to walk normally, his stride matching Michael's. They were surrounded by the glow of neon lights blues and purples and holographic billboards. The roar of engines was loud in Raden's ears as ground vehicles and aircraft sped by. Walking on the sidewalk, Raden couldn't take his eyes off the scenery; the towering buildings and endless shops were a brand new sight to him.
"So, this is the city center? Crowded and looks fun," Raden said.
"Crowded and fun? Pft. More like crowded and chaotic. Is this your first time in Spectre City?"
"I've actually lived in this city a long time. It's just... I've never been to the center in my entire life."
"Hmm... how old are you?"
"18. Turning 19 next month."
"Ah, how strange... living here 18 years and only just seeing the center."
Raden raised an eyebrow. "Why is that strange? Did you just find out about it too?"
"Oh, I'm not from here. Originally, I came from a city full of steam engines and old-school junk. I ended up here for a job."
Raden's eyebrows shot up. "Not from here? What do you mean?"
"Ah, it's a long story. Better you eat than ask questions." Michael fixed his gaze on a restaurant ahead. Raden followed his line of sight, and the two of them stepped inside.
The restaurant was filled with burly men tearing into grilled chicken with savage enthusiasm. Their saliva splattered onto the floor and tables as they ate.
Michael and Raden approached the counter. Michael told Raden to choose from the menu board located directly above the cashier's head. Raden pointed to a grilled beef set complete with egg and vegetables. Afterward, Michael sent Raden to sit at table number 3, saying he would handle the payment. Raden went off to find the table.
"What's the total?" Michael asked the cashier, pulling a phone from his right pocket.
"Total is 870 EC, sir."
"I'll send it via crypto," Michael said, tapping on his touchscreen.
"We don't take crypto, sir. Direct bank transfer or e-wallet only. If you can't do that, maybe try transferring it through that wide nose of yours." The cashier burst into laughter.
Michael's fingers stopped moving. He lifted his head, staring dead at the cashier with a serious expression.
"You able to take a sh*t tonight?" Michael asked, his gaze sharp.
"Yeah, you got a problem?"
"How about tonight you can't sh*t because I'm going to shoot your a**?"
"Whoa, whoa, hey, we got a tough guy here. Mercy, oh hero, I bow to you. Oh wait, how about before you shoot my a**, I cut your d*ck off? Make you scream in your room for the rest of your life because you can't f*ck pretty girls anymore?"
"Hmm... quite brave for a cashier. Oh, sorry. Think I dropped a piece of paper," Michael said, flicking a small card at the cashier's face.
The cashier caught it and held it up. He saw the logo: Indi(e)go.
"How about it? Did that paper make you p*ss your f*cking pants yet?" Michael grinned broadly.
The cashier swallowed hard. Cold sweat began to trickle down his face. "Ah, okay, okay. I'm working on your order now. For the kid... no charge."
The cashier's limbs moved in a panic as he scribbled the order and rushed to the kitchen. Moments later, he returned to the counter. Michael was still standing there, relaxed.
"Listen here," Michael said. "I won't be an arrogant pr*ck if you don't start it. Remember that and tell your boss."
The cashier ground his teeth, trembling at Michael's words. Michael walked casually out of the restaurant, fishing a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.
Minutes later, the food arrived at Raden's table. He devoured it with enthusiasm, not stopping until he choked. He scrambled for the drink beside him and gulped it down.
Finished with his meal, Raden walked out of the restaurant with a full stomach. Several people inside glared at him. He held their gaze for a moment, then focused on leaving.
Outside, he found Michael leaning against a pole, smoking comfortably. Raden approached him.
"Hey, you full?" Michael asked, exhaling smoke toward the sky.
"Yeah, I'm stuffed."
Michael took a drag and blew another cloud upwards. He looked at Raden. "Why are you staring like that? Want one?" Michael offered the pack.
"No, thanks. Not interested in smoking," Raden said.
"Good. Don't start. It's addictive, like drugs. You know... people's lungs get filthy and they die because of this. My dad's throat was ruined by cigarettes. Ironically, the pack says 'Smoking Kills You', yet the capitalists still sell them for money. Strange, but true."
"Then why do you still smoke? Isn't it weirder to say that and keep doing it?"
Michael inhaled and exhaled a stream of smoke. "Smoking kills you, not me."
He crushed the cigarette butt a moment later. "We should head back to base before that coward cashier brings his circle."
Are you full enough? a voice asked from within Raden's mind.
Raden stopped in his tracks, looking around frantically for the source of the voice. But he saw no one speaking, only Michael. Michael stopped and looked at the confused boy.
"What is it?"
"Oh, um... nothing. I guess I'm hearing things." Raden scratched his head, though it didn't itch.
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you're hallucinating. You should try the energy drinks at the base to focus."
"Y-yeah, sounds good."
They resumed their walk.
What are you looking for? I am inside your body, the voice returned.
Raden pursed his lips. So you're that spirit, huh? Raden replied internally.
Yes. I am the spirit in your soul. You may call me Oni.
Whatever. Just don't let you or that demon mess up my body, Raden thought back.
Understood. You need not worry about the demon in my soul. I will always handle him.
Yeah, good job. Keep it that way. I don't want your hands killing people without a cause again.
Minutes later, Raden and Michael arrived back at the Indi(e)go building. They entered, moving deeper into the spacious corridors. Michael punched a holographic passcode into a door panel. It slid open.
Inside, the room was filled with advanced technology. Five office chairs sat in disarray, while one faced a massive screen. Mora was busy typing on a flat digital keyboard beneath the main display. Smaller monitors lined the walls, meticulously arranged, showing citizen behaviors, actions, and street surveillance.
Raden looked around, his face a mix of awe and curiosity.
Michael tapped Mora's shoulder. "Mora, we're back. Is it time for his assignment?"
Mora spun her chair around to face them. "Oh, you're back? Raden, it looks like you'll need to work with us."
Raden's eyes widened.
"Huh? Work with you?!"