The warm wind rushed through his rough skin, slamming the door behind him. From around the corner, he could hear the murmurs of people talking. When he looked out of curiosity, he saw a man, scrawny, slim, starved feeding off a carcass of a human, talking to himself. Its ribs were like a plate serving human flesh. Not paying attention to his surroundings, he continued tearing at the corpse, ruthlessly tearing it apart with his bare hands, getting some of it stuck in his nails. The ragged clothes and the long, black hair of the man who was eating didn't cover him well.
The things people do. Amens sighed.
He turned to the opposite side of the man eater to find a building, a sort of stone hut protected by two men. Both were wearing coats and gloves. Their bald heads reflected what little light seeped through the clouds, allowing every inch of their head to be seen. Both surprised and on edge, they both looked at the mask man with clean, rich clothes. It was clear they were tense. Amens took at deep breath.
"A1B5"
The bald men, muscular for people in the slums being of avarage strength for middle-class men shot each other looks. Once they finished, one of them looked at Amens and nodded, moving to the side and letting him continue. As he walked in, Amens both gave them a nod, both greeting them and trying to put them at ease.
The hut itself wasn't anything special, what was most important was the stairs that led down. He held his hands out feeling his way down the stairs and gradually descending until he saw a neon light that was flashing on a perpetual colour of dark green. Banter and laughs echoed through the stairwell Amens was using.
Once he reached the bottom, he tidied his coat and continued walking, looking for a few specific stalls. As he walked along, he noticed the merchant that sold him food behind a stall, talking to what seemed to be a customer. At the time, he was selling drugs, the kind that gets you high. Only rich customers tend to buy these things and the customer was clearly just that. A clean shirt, fresh pants, a gold lined cane made of ebony wood. It was apparent to plenty of thieves passing by or appraisers that this customer was crying for attention, trying to flex his status to make poorer people cower in his presence.
Observing customers wasn't what Amens was here for. He was here for a couple things: night runic crystals, mana instigator, rope, bullets and a large sac. The night runic crystals are crystals that have been inscribed runes that relate to the night which are activated through a spark of mana, similar to a spark ignition engine, the mana being the spark. The particular rune he was looking for was one that related to sleep. Mana instigator channels mana into runes, mana machines, spells etc. The mana instigator being the thing that causes the spark of mana.
He was going to buy a rope to tie and gag the Gilded Dregs, get bullets for intimidation and a large sac to carry all the money. He already had a knife that could be used for interrogation as well but if stabbed in the wrong area it can cause a fountain of blood to spur everywhere.
No one payed attention to Amens' mask as it was normal to have strange folk, especially in a market such as this one. An example of such a person would be the man buying a machatete, his face being covered in scars and his chest too. Completely shirtless and showing off his muscles. Compared to this, Amens mask could barely have been said to be attention seeking.
He slowly scanned the room and noticed a stall that sold the instigators and runes. As he approached the stall, he pushed and shoved through the crowd, touching shoulders with a lot of people leaving stains on his shirt. Once he arrived at the stall, there was a woman standing behind that stall. She had a short skirt on, short enough to see her underwear as well as a shirt that some people could complain be a vest. Her red hair contrasted well with her clothes and black pointy hat.
What's with all the attention seekers these days? Amens pondered.
"What would you like today sir? We have limited time off with our runes this week!"
They were always discounted as the discounted price is the actual price for it. It's just that whenever some sucker hears the word "voucher" or "cheaper", they get more influenced to buy it. However, the "discounted" price is actually a fair price for the runes s those that see the issue won't complain much.
"Night runic crystals that are for sleeping as well as a mana instigator."
"That will be 3 scrip and 4 copper coins please"
He scrounged his pockets for the desired outcome and the saleswoman waved Amens goodbye. Denominations worked like this, 10 copper coins = 1 silver coin, 5 silver coins = 1 gold coin, 5 gold coins = 1 scrip, 5 scrip = 1 gramt, 10 gramt = 1 platinum coin, 100 platinum coins = 1 royal coin.
The avarge worker of the employed lower class earned roughly 1 sliver coin and 7 copper a week, the average worker of the employed middle class earned roughly 1 scrip and 4 gold coins a week, the average worker of the employed upper class earns roughly 7 gramt a week and any status above that is so filthy rich that there is no need for employment.
Checking around to see anyone ready to take the items on the desk, he scanned the room. Once he confirmed everything was okay, he quickly darted his hands omto the table and into his inside pocket to stop pickpocketers from taking anything important.
Abruptly, he felt something warm go up his throught. Quickly, he scoured the area for an unpopulated corner and ran there, trying to avoid the people surrounding him. As he arrived at the corner, he held his hands to his mask and took it off, stuffing it into his pocket. Uncontrollably, the warm liquids rushed out of his mouth, fortunately, his hands were already on the wall in front of him. Once it was over, he pulled a handkerchief out from his pocket and wiped his lips. The putrid aroma of the vomit filled his lungs and on top of that the rustic smell of the underground made it almost unbearable. It stained his mouth with a taste like vomit and shit mixed together.
Ughhh…
As he deemed himself ready and clean, he slowly put his mask back on and wandered back into the main stalls, blaming the sudden sickness on the atmosphere of the cylinder-shaped tunnel.
He approached the stall for rope and had a brisk conversation, trying his best to avoid small talk and salesmanship to leave. His headache was returning.
After buying the rope, he tried to walk towards the stall for a large sac but accidentally pushed into a tall man. The same one that was buying a machete.
"You want to fight?"
"Move it you muscle head."
Amens was shocked at his own words
The smell must be getting to me. He thought. Customers crowded around, waiting for a four in anticipation making a makeshift arena of people.
No choice. He thought. Amens knew the man was hiding a machete in his back pocket of his trousers so he waited for him to grab it but he didn't.
I guess he wants to surprise me with it. Amens thought. His coat blew in the breath of the people cheering. With unstable posture and footwork, the man in front of him threw a sloppy punch with a grin.
What a begginer.
Amens stepped to the side and threw a left hook, making the man stumble slightly but not fall due to the protection his muscles give him. Like a mad man, the muscular man laughed, and laughed. And laughed trying to trigger Amens. Sudden, the man's posture and footwork became a lot better, that of an experienced fighter. Like a bolted, he dashed towards Amens, lifting his leg for a kick. However, it was not enough. Once his leg landed on him, Amens caught it and lifted it up, making the man fall. Still holding his leg, Amens looked down the confused man with pity.
Bash… bash… bash…
Amens stomped on his face over and over, not stopping. Even with the looks of disgust and horror displayed in the faces around him he kept on going. Over and over and over. The blood wrapping around on his legs, his shoes covered with red but his feet still hungry. Once he felt the breathing of the man disappear, he looked at the bashed skull with pity, the scars completely covered with blood, his face unrecognisable and the bone of his fractured skull showing. The shadow of the skull made the brain too hard to see.
Slowly, Amens took a deep breath, shook his leg to get rid of excess blood and walked away. The crowed formed a path for him with fear and confusion in their eyes. Some tried to comprehend what they just saw. His mask was expretionless but his face was twisted. Twisted with a smile he didn't notice.
Soon after, when Amens was still in the pathway that the audience formed, the rune seller rushed to the man. When she noticed he wasn't breathing and had a good look at the corpse, the fell back in horror.
Looking back at the girl he thought to himself. I guess there still are some people who care, but im not one of them. What sickness he felt seemed to be completely gone. When he arrived at the bullets stall, the seller fell back in shock. His eyes wide, his voice screaming with no noise. Amens gave the man the appropriate price on the table and took the bullets.
Calmly, he walked away to the other side of the shop where no one knew him. Even so, he felt a gaze following him but he decided to deal with it later.
Following the crowd, he arrived at a bag stall. Filled with backpacks, sacs, purses all made of different materials, with different colours and of different sizes.
"One large sac, please."
"Of course"
Surprised, Amens just stood there. Absolutely no salesmanship, just straight to point. Thats good. He thought.
The seller had black trousers, a white shirt with a brown vest on top. His blue eyes and white hair opposed his black skin. The low pitch voice and some tiny wrinkles suggested age.
"Here it is"
"Thank you"
As the coins clattered on the table, he left with everything he needed. As he was on the stairs, he still felt the thing watching him yet it made no sound.
Certainly professional.
He exited the building, bidding the bald guards adieu. However, instead of going home, he walked into a dark alleyway and walked further into the darkness. Rain started pouring. The sound of metal came from his hands. A coin flipped in his hands.
"Heads or tails?" He said, tired and in a low pitched voice.