Thud! Thud!
Bast stumbled beneath a bent arch and into the Warrens. The rain thinned here, swallowed by sagging roofs and hanging pipes -- they sat like leaves covering the ground of a forest.
"Haaa! Haaa!"
Loud. Urgent.
The sounds of his breaths and steps caused a ruckus. Immediately a dozen of faces turned -- thin silhouettes hovering around barrel flames, faces peeking around door frames and crates. Gaunt eyes reflected through the dark sky, their breaths misting through the cold air.
Their eyes tracked him with a familiar mixture of boredom and some... holding quiet resentment.
"Haaa...."
The looks stayed as his breath slowly began to stabilise -- beads of sweat gracing the crack-ridden stone.
"Bast?" a man with a cracked pipe between rotten teeth squinted. "You go window-shopping at the auction house again?"
A few scattered chuckles filled the air -- low and sharp... not of the truly joyful kind. They all watched as the boy finally raised his head, that familiar amber gaze gracing them.
"...You know me. Can't resist luxury." Bast strained out through a parted breath -- his face forcing a lopsided smirk as the words left.
More snickers ran through the air. Children.
Someone coughed blood into a cloth, whilst others began to mutter rambles of thoughts.
A woman muttered, "Should've stayed there this time."
'Love you too Siena...' Bast thought as he stood up straight.
His heart still pounded as he stood rooted -- the threat of capture still fresh in his mind. Before he could think of it some more; "Bast?" the man with the cracked pipe squinted once more through a bubble of smoke. "Tov was wondering where you ran off to."
Bast's eyes flicked up, just for a second. "That kid's still up?" he muttered, breath still heavy.
The man grinned, his yellow teeth catching the firelight. "Kid said he was saving you a seat."
A few people listening in smirked at the words, their attention turning to a few curled-up children to the side -- their eyes staring into the fire with wonder.
It wasn't a lot. It wasn't luxury. But these people were human too.
Bast's lips parted, but before he could answer....
Krrrssshhh!
The sound of static tore through the air.
Every head turned. The man's cracked pipe slipped from his lips as it threatened to fall across the wet stone. The faint laughter of before had died quick, followed by the shuffling of feet and the wary gazes of children.
'Fuck...' Bast thought.
Did he think they wouldn't have followed him? That they wouldn't have laid chase even inside this gutter hole?
Krrrssshh--
"Unit Two, confirm visual."
Only the faint crackles of barrel fire filled the air as everyone froze hearing the sounds.
"Negative. He's inside the Warrens."
"Reminder: Code Black object in possession. Authorisation to engage suspect."
The words bled through the rain, cold and mechanical. For a second the very air felt thinner, almost like the world itself was holding its breath too.
Krrrssshh!
They didn't know where the sounds were coming from.
Behind? In front? No... all around.
"Code Black?" a woman whispered, clutching her child close. An older man swore under his breath. Someone began pulling rags over their stall, whilst a few children ran behind bins and crates for cover.
Bast's throat was dry. His fingers twitched by his side -- the coin still resting inside his palm; a faint chill spreading inside.
"Bast," the old man with the pipe leaned close, voice a rasp. He looked at him with a slight... knowing. "You should hide, boy."
The others looked at him too, some giving faint nods... others projecting dry looks. Whatever was coming, whatever "Code black" was, for him to stumble back so frantically... it had to do with him.
There wasn't any more time to think. Bast darted to the right, ducking low as he slipped behind a curtain of torn cloth. His knees scraped against the damp stone as he pressed himself into the shadow of a broken crate -- concealed in the dark, as the smell of rust and smoke stung his nose.
Krrrssshh!
The noises grew louder.
Splash! Splash! Thud! Thud!
Boots ran through the waterlogged alleys, followed by the hums of comms and metal gear clinking. Beams of lights swept ahead, painting the side of buildings pure.
"Everyone stay where you are!"
The first group emerged -- four of them, soaked through but alert, visors glowing a dull blue. Their eyes flicked over the fades huddled around, standing under signs and around barrel fires.
"What's all this then? Some lizards wanna join our party?" a man said, voice dry with mockery.
A few laughs followed -- short, nervous, kinds that didn't stretch long. "Shut it," one of the guard's tones cracked through the noise like a whip.
It went quiet... deathly so.
Bast watched through a tiny gap, his head ducked low as his breath steamed.
"We're looking for a young male," another said, scanning the crowd. "Dark hair. Rough coat. Ran here not long ago."
The fire flickered in the air as shadows stretched long against the walls. No one moved.
A woman's breath hitched. The old man with the pipe didn't even blink.
One of the guards kicked a crate aside, metal screeching:
CHHHKK!
"So... anyone wanna speak up?"
A few looks scattered to where Bast was hidden -- quick and unnoticeable.
"There's a lot of people that match that description... officer," the old man with the pipe spoke slowly.
"We got Lil Jigg right there, Orho, Tin..." he extended his hand, voice coarse, as he pointed lazily toward the boys by the barrels. "Plenty of dark hair down here... depends what you need 'em for."
The nearest guard tilted his head -- the orange hue of fire gracing his visor. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked.
The onlookers watched as the old man shrugged, his grin half-hidden behind smoke. "Means you ain't usually down here unless you want somethin'. So what's this kid done?"
Tap. Tap. Tap.
One of the four guards stepped closer, approaching the old man with heavy steps. Standing taller than the elder, he bent down, meeting his eyes head on... before he looked at his pipe.
"Keep this slick talk up," the guard murmured, "and we'll see if you can talk with this pipe lodged down your throat."
Everyone watched uneasily -- the kids watched with twitching eyes, the women pulled at the seams of their clothes, as the men stared daggers.
Before the old man could respond, a new voice cut through -- deep and rough, from the side of the alley.
"Unless you tell us what he did," the man said, stepping out from between two cramped stalls, "you can leave. Cause we haven't seen anyone."
He was broader, his coat ripped from the sleeves, and eyes that burned like he'd been tired of being stepped on.
The guard straightened as he turned to face him.
"That so?"
"Yeah," the man said. "That's so."
The two stared each other down -- rain dripping lightly between them as the other three guards stood posted.
Krrrshh--
Attention was turned to the sound of the radio on the guard's hips:
"Unit Two approaching. Maintain formation."
As soon as the words came over the radio, one of the guards exhaled slowly. They then all stepped back, shaking their heads at the same time.
What was going on? Everyone watched, sceptic about it all.
At the same time:
"....hhh..." Bast exhaled slow from where he was hidden. 'More guards?' he thought. What was going on today? Was his luck so bad?
His mind flicked back to that cloaked man who'd burst through that door -- the one who looked clearly suspicious. Clearly committing something he shouldn't have been.
'To think they'd get him mixed up with me....' he thought hollowly.
He wanted to express it out loud. Wanted to stand up and say it wasn't him.
But then... why did he run?
He lightly scoffed, a breathless exhale: 'Can't expect me not to when guards are running full speed.'
Wrong place... wrong time it seemed.
For a moment it was quiet. Everyone was on edge... but the guards who stepped back almost seemed relaxed.
Tap.
Steps?
Tap.
There it was again.
Tap.
They were definitely real.
Tap.
Someone was coming towards the area -- their steps controlled, measured.
Someone official.
Someone serious.