《Eternity》
Chapter 1: 10000 years
Typhos pulled the final glass out of the water and set it on the back shelf to air dry. Wiping his hands on the front of his shirt, Typhos sighed and turned around. The day was finally over. Heading behind the bar and into the employee break room, Typhos went through a door near the back. Inside was a small changing room with a few hooks on the walls for clothes, a small bench to sit on, and a mirror on the far wall that stretched from floor to ceiling. Typhos quickly changed out of his bartending apron into a sloppy looking leather jacket. Pulling on his pants, Typhos glanced at himself in the mirror.
A man standing about 1.9 meters tall with long, ragged hair stared back at him with golden eyes. His skin was incredibly pale, as if he had never seen sunlight, and the jacket was a little tight, showing off his sculpted frame. The bags below his eyes would tell anyone that he had trouble sleeping, and the various rips and stains on the pants would tell them that the pants had not been washed recently. Typhos would have been a very handsome man if he gave a damn about his appearance, but he didn¡¯t. He had stopped caring about his looks a long time ago. The neglect was not because he thought looks were pointless, but because he simply did not care about them. Actually, he did not care about a lot of things, perhaps a product of his experiences.
Shaking his head, Typhos turned and exited the changing room. He glanced uninterestedly at a fellow coworker, mumbling a hello as he walked past. Outside the break room was the main feature of Xavier¡¯s Bar...the bar. It was by no means a luxurious place. The floor was made of old, rotting wood, and the walls of chipped, discolored stone. The only lighting in the room was a few chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Typhos walked behind the bar, his eyes sweeping over the assortment of low end liquor on the speed rail, then over the ¡°high-end¡± premium liquor on its special shelf. He had seen it a thousand times before. The bar was made of old, rusting steel, perhaps to ensure it would not be broken by a drunken patron.
Typhos made his way around the end of the bar, pushing through the turnstile that blocked off the entrance. He made his way through the assortment of tables and chairs, pushing in those that were left aimlessly strewn about by drunken men or women. Finally, he reached the double doors that were positioned directly opposite the bar. Pushing them open, he stepped out onto Wilheim Street. Turning down the sidewalk, he glanced around him, taking in the sights of the city once again.
Wilheim Street was part of the slums of Tivor. Tivor was a medium sized city in the country of Likid. It was designed like most modern cities, a square split into three ascending parts from outer to middle. The outer section, the slums, was the only one without the towering skyscrapers and flying speeders for transportation. Now, this wasn¡¯t to say the slums of Tivor were a terrible place. Compared to slums near the beginning of his life, these slums were a paradise. Each side of the street was lined with 2 to 5 story buildings made of mostly stone and wood. Most of the buildings were apartments, though some were businesses. The streets were perfectly square, each one reaching an intersection at exactly 2 kilometers long. Each block was technically called a cell, and in the slums alone there was a total of 200 cells from one end of the city to the other. The structure was very organized, which Typhos could appreciate. In the past, the streets were always twisting and passing each other in the strange ways. Typhos had found it far too troublesome to navigate these streets, so he was glad that society had finally decided to organize itself. Turning left, he entered a small store that was still lit from within.
¡°Ah, was wondering when ya would show up, Typhos,¡± a cheery, but chubby, man said from behind the store counter, ¡°I assume ya here for the usual?¡±
Typhos simply nodded and pulled some bills from his jacket pocket. The world had shifted to paper currency some time ago, drifting away from the copper, silver, gold, and platinum system of his youth. He wasn¡¯t sure he liked this development, as it made counting and tracking money more more difficult. Now there was things like 5 Vin bills, 10 Vin bills, 50 Vin bills, and 100 Vin bills. He thought this was much more difficult than 100 coppers equals 1 silver, 100 silver equals 1 gold, and so on. But, this was how the world had changed, and he had to change with it. He put two 5 Vin bills on the table was the man pulled two bottles from beneath the counter. Alcohol was strictly regulated in stores. Only the owner was allowed to select it from the shelf, and this was only after the customer had produced a legitimate ID. Anyone under 16 was unable to drink alcohol, courtesy of the new republics mandate 60 years ago.
¡°Hear ya go, two bottles of rum. Ya know, drinking two bottles a night isn¡¯t healthy for ya.¡± He said as he slid the bottles across the table, scooping up Typhos¡¯s money and placing it in the lockbox beneath the counter
¡°Yeah, thanks the advice, but I¡¯m fine.¡± Typhos said flatly, grabbing the bottles and exiting the store.
He had started drinking some time ago. He prefered to drown his past in alcohol rather than face it. It was much easier to simply try to forget. Seal his power, ignore everything happening around him, shut everyone out, and drink his problems away. Of course, two bottles was not nearly enough to get him drunk, but it was the thought that counts.
Half a cell later, Typhos finally reached his apartment building. It was a dumpy, three story building made completely of old wood. Pushing the squeaky doors open, Typhos entered a long, single hallway with doors on either side. Turning directly right, he headed up the stairs to the top floor. Most apartments in the slums did not have elevators, as the buildings were too outdated to have them implemented without knocking down and rebuilding the structure completely. The steps doubled back on themselves once per floor, ensuring that the landing was always at the same spot of the next floor. The stairs creaked and groaned as he ascended, some of the boards bending under his weight. Of course, he was not overweight, clocking in at about 95 kilograms, it was just that the stairs were shitty and technically in violation of the public safety laws. Of course, no public safety inspector every checked the apartments in the slums, so the super didn¡¯t have to worry about replacing the stairs.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
On his way up the final flight of stairs, he was forced to shift right to avoid a shoddily dressed woman who was descending. She glanced at him with cold, black eyes through raggedy black hair, snorting as she passed by him.
¡°Try not to punch any holes in the floor or walls tonight, Typhos.¡± She said.
Ignoring his neighbor, Typhos finally reached the top floor. HIs room was at the far end of the hall, his door directly across from the stairs. He had gotten himself the largest room in the apartment besides the super¡¯s, figuring he deserved at least that. He pushed open his door, closing it behind him. He never bothered to lock, mostly because the lock was broken, but also because he didn¡¯t care if he was robbed. If some bastard came in and got a lucky hit on him and killed him, he would welcome it gladly. Of course, he knew that was probably impossible. There was limits to what he could do with his Statistical Manipulation skill.
Kicking off his shoes and leaving them by the door, Typhos walked directly forward to the desk. His apartment consisted of four rooms. The office room, which the door opened to, the bedroom, which was through a door on the left side of the office, the kitchen, which was through a door on the right side of the office, and the bathroom, which was accessed by a door inside the bedroom. It was the perfect place for a single, lonely man to get drunk by himself. Sitting heavily in the chair behind the desk, Typhos popped the lid off one of the bottles and took a long drink, not bothering to get a glass. Shifting back, he placed his feet on top of the desk, his eyes distant, starting into nothingness.
He downed the rest of the first bottle in one breath, slamming it down on the deks. The glass shattered, cutting his hand. Blood oozed from the wound, quickly covering his hand. Cursing, Typhos got to his feet and went to the kitchen. Grabbing a dirty rag from by the sink, he wrapped it around his hand before heading back to the desk. Opening the second bottle, he repeated the process of drinking it in two goes. This time he did not slam the bottle on the desk, instead opting to toss it into the kitchen. He ignored the sound of shattering glass, his eyes once more focused on somewhere far away.
Hours later, he finally rose and went to the bedroom. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was 4 AM. He got off work at 12, as the government mandated that all bars must close at midnight in order to ensure ¡°public safety during the night hours.¡± He had been sitting in the chair for over 3 hours, lost in the past. Pulling of his pants, he plopped them on the bloor beside the bed before climbing in. Not bothering to get under the sheets, Typhos closed his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.
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Fire surrounded him, along with screams. A shadow, small and feeble, crawled away from him in fear. Typhos stepped forward, reaching out his hand. The shape let out a plaintive cry before being silenced. Slowly, Typhos turned around, facing another shadow behind him. This one was different. It had a smile, an evil smile. Suddenly, the shadow spoke.
¡°Well done, Typhos. Now, finish the rest of them.¡±
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The loud crunch of splintering wood followed by a shudder reverberated through his apartment. Typhos¡¯s eyes snapped open, before closing again in defeat. Pulling his fist from the wall, he watched as half of the wooden wall crumbled. It seemed he had lost a bit more control this time, and his punch had done more damage than usual.
¡°Fuck! Dammit, Dammit, Dammit!¡± He shouted. He turned to look at the clock and swore again. It was only 4 30. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he headed back to the office and sat behind the desk. He knew what would come next. Loud footsteps echoed down the hall. His door flew open, and Joline, the girl from the stairs, burst into the room.
¡°Seriously, Typhos! Do you have to punch holes in the wall every damn night?¡± She asked as she looked into the bedroom. Her eyes widened at the large opening that revealed the building next door. ¡°Well shit, I don¡¯t think the super¡¯s gonna let you stay after that one, even if you are fucking her.¡±
¡°You¡¯re right, Joline. Guess I better pack my bags.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t have any bags! Now, maybe if she kicks you out you can finally do something else. Seriously, you have that kind of strength and all you do is drink and wallow in despair. Why don¡¯t you do something with it?¡±
¡°I did, once,¡± he said, his voice bitter, ¡°nothing good comes of being a damn hero.¡±
¡°Shit, sorry. But still, you have to have at least 50 strength to do something like that. Now-¡± she was interrupted by another voice, this one loud and angry.
¡°What the hell, Typhos! Yo-you are done here! I¡¯m done with it! I have to pay to fix this shit every other night, and I won¡¯t do it anymore! Your good but your not worth this much. I want you gone by the weekend.¡± The super, a skinny woman with reddish brown hair, shouted at him, her arms motioning wildly at the damage.
Typhos sighed, defeated, ¡°I¡¯ll leave right away.¡± he said. Turning to Joline, he raised a hand slightly. ¡°Have a good life Joline, was nice knowing you.¡±
He reached below the desk and pulled a small, black leather briefcase out. He smiled slightly at Joline before letting himself out. Out on the street, he stared at the stars, his eyes full of regret. No matter how long he had ran, no matter what he had tried, he could never escape his past. He had been haunted by it almost his entire life. He had thought with time he would forget, but it seemed time did not heal all scars. Even if it had been 10,000 years.
Chapter 2: Trouble
Typhos walked aimlessly down the street, the dim street lights illuminating his path. It wasn''t the first time he had been kicked out of a residence. In fact, it was a common occurrence in his life. People just didn''t like to put up with the person who did nothing but drink booze and cause disturbances. He had managed to stay at this place for about 2 weeks, making it the longest in the past year, possibly because of his relationship with the superintendent. Pushing open the doors to the convenience store, Typhos as once again greet by the chubby man behind the counter.
"You''re back early today," he said cheerfully before noticing the briefcase, "Shit...got kicked out again I presume?"
"Yeah," Typhos sighed as he placed two 10 Vin bills on the counter, "just the usual please."
"Got somewhere to go this time? You''ve been kicked out of nearly every apartment on Wilheim."
"I''ll figure something out. Maybe live next street over, it''s still not that long of a walk." Typhos said, turning for the door with bottles in hand.
"Ya do what ya gotta do, Typhos. Just...don''t get yourself killed, you''re my best customer." The man shouted after him as he left the store.
The tingle of the shop''s doorbells echoed behind him as he once again walked aimlessly down Wilheim. A hum filled the air as a landbound speeder flew past him on the street. The vehicle was open topped and ran completely on electricity. A single windshield in front protected the driver, redirecting the wind over or around them. There was no visible engine. All vehicles had become completely electric over 500 years ago, along with most other things that required power. He could still remember clearly the day when true electricity was discovered. Over time, the amount of people who could use mana had plummeted, and society had been forced to turn to an alternative method of power. One such source was electricity. A scientist, who''s name he never cared to remember, had begun testing electric spells, attempting to see what electricity was. Of course, he had made little progress, seeing as mana generated lightning was fundamentally different than actual electricity. However, he had eventually made a breakthrough and introduced normal electricity to the world.
As the speeder disappeared into the distance, Typhos opened one of the bottles, taking a long drink as he walked. He really didn''t know where he would go this time. The shop owner was right, he had exhausted all his options on Wilheim street. If he hadn''t already been kicked out of an apartment, the owner had heard the rumors and would refuse him. He only got into the last one because he was apparently good at fucking. Finishing the first bottle and wishing for the millionth time he could get drunk, Typhos turned down an alley. He stopped near its entrance and put his back to the wall, slowly sliding down to a sitting position. He placed his briefcase on his lap, his fingers fumbling with the latches. When he finally unlocked it, he opened it slowly, reverently.
The briefcase was nearly empty, housing only three things. The first two were a pair of diamond rings. They sat side by side, always together. The other was a picture, framed in pure gold. Typhos gently brushed the picture, his memories flooding back to him.
"How was your day...."
"What would you like for dinner...."
"It''s going to be okay..."
"I love you..."
Typhos screamed as he lashed out, the unfinished bottle in his hand shattering against the wall. His hand was cut in several places and he was soaked in rum, but he ignored it all. A single tear meandered its way down his cheek before dripping onto the picture. Closing his eyes, Typhos closed the briefcase gently, locked it up, and sat it beside him. His hand fumbled blindly for the second bottle, his desperate fingers grasping it. Raising it to his lips, he drank long and fast, downing nearly half the bottle in one go. The bottle dropped to his side as he gasped for air, his chest heaving. After recovering he took another drink, finishing the bottle a few minutes later.
His rum now gone, Typhos''s thoughts once again turned to his living situation. If he really wanted to he could abandon the bar and move to the commons, but he knew he wouldn''t. Even if he spent an unholy amount of money on booze, he had lived a very long time. What little he had saved every year had added up, amounting to a sum most could only dream of having. However, he refused to use it. Perhaps living in the slums was his own way of punishing himself for his past, punishing himself for the terrible acts he had committed. Most likely he would simply move down to the next street. It wouldn''t be the first time he had moved, nor would it be the last.
Struggling to his feet, Typhos glanced down at his hand and cursed. The cuts were pretty nasty this time, ,and he knew if he didn''t wrap it he could be in trouble. Taking off his leather jacket and dropping it to the ground, he peeled off his shirt and bound it tightly around his hand. The wounds from last night were already long healed, leaving him only with fresh cuts. That was something not in his Statistical Manipulation could fix, his sleep healing. Putting the jacket back on, Typhos once again began walking down Wilheim. He had a purpose this time - the bank at the end of the street.
Several minutes of walking later, he arrived at his destination. The bank was open 24 hours a day, a convenience Typhos had used several times withdraw money for his booze. The clerk began moving the moment he entered the bank, retrieving an amount of 100 Vin from the bank vault. He slid the bills under the counter and smiled at Typhos.
"This puts your account balance at 9,400 Vin, Typhos. You got 94 nights left of drinking before you''re broke."
"Thanks for the update Sid, I''ll be counting." Typhos replied as he grabbed the cash. As he exited the bank, he glanced at the clock on the wall. The hands read 6:00, telling Typhos all he needed to know.
Back on the street, Typhos set out on his way to Xavier''s Bar. Whenever he got kicked out of an apartment he would always head to Xavier''s and throw back a few drinks to celebrate. He knew Xavier wouldn''t fire him for drinking up a storm at his bar, he was simply helping business. Of course, he would still clock in for his 6-12 shift in the evening. He never worked the morning shift, mostly because on the nights he didn''t dream he would sleep straight through until past noon. Pushing through the double doors, Typhos entered the empty bar. As he made his way to a stool by the bar, a voice shouted from the employee room.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
"Fuck off we''re closed. Come back when we open!"
"Oh fuck you too, Jasmine! I know we open at 6, get out here and pour me something!"
In response, a grumbling, auburn haired girl exited the break room, sauntering behind the bar. She grabbed a random bottle from the speed rail and poured it into a glass, sliding it toward Typhos as she leaned on the bar.
"So, I''m guessing you being here means you got kicked out of another apartment?" She inquired.
"Yup, destroyed half a wall this time. Super decided that she had had enough of the night disturbances and repair bills."
"Well, maybe if you actually came out and told people what''s wrong the night episodes might fade?" She replied as she poured herself a glass.
"Oh please, Jasmine, don''t preach to me. If I wanted or needed to share my issues I would have done so already." He replied, exasperated.
"No, you wouldn''t have. That''s not who you are, Typhos. You push people away, afraid to get close to them. Sometimes I wonder why you even let me be your friend."
"Well," he said, draining the glass before continuing, "I''ve found it helps to confide in someone. Keeping to many secrets makes me lose control more often, bottles something up inside."
"Hmm, I''m not sure if I''m glad you chose me or not. Now, I know losing a family is hard, but you need to do something with your life, Typhos. You are the best bartender I have ever seen. You can create and mix drinks faster than anyone I have ever seen, and if you cleaned up a bit you would be quite handsome. Move to the commons, work in a real bar, get a real life, Typhos. You can''t let the past destroy your future."
Typhos chuckled lightly before he responded, "I don''t need to move anywhere. I''ve got a life here, Jasmine. I drink, I have sex, I work a bar. I consider that a life."
"You drink alone and fuck random hookers off the street. You work a rundown shithole that can barely be considered a bar. That isn''t a life, Typhos, that is a mess."
The conversation was interrupted by the doors of the bar banging open. A group of four men, regulars who worked the night shift at a restaurant down the street, entered the room. They all meandered up to the bar, sitting beside Typhos. Jasmine gave Typhos one last look before turning her attention to the other patrons. Grabbing the bottle of rum, Typhos poured himself another glass. Then another. Then another. He didn''t know how many drinks it took, but eventually his vision began to get blurry. He smiled happily, pouring himself another drink. Another unknown amount of drinks later, Typhos finally blacked out, his head falling against the bar.
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¡°I didn''t dream.¡±
That was Typhos''s first thought as he opened his eyes. He looked around him and recognized the break room. Jasmine must have dragged him here after he passed out on her bar. Shaking his head, Typhos looked at the clock: 5:30. Putting a hand to his head, he slowly massaged his temples, clearing his head. He wasn''t hung over. He couldn''t get hungover. The effects of the alcohol had all been purged from his system in the past 10-11 hours. Standing up, Typhos stretched before heading to the employee lockers. Xavier''s Bar had a dress code for both it''s waitresses and its bartenders. Each had a uniform that they wore everyday at work. With a total of 4 employees, Typhos guessed it wasn''t hard to get matching outfits. Opening his locker, he grabbed his uniform and made his way to the dressing room.
Half an hour later, Typhos was on the job. He had relieved an exhausted Jasmine nad taken his position behind the bar. The poor girl worked the bar 12 hours a day in order to pay her rent. Of course, Typhos could have helped her pay, but she had vehemently refused his offer, saying something about being a burden and not wanting to rely on others. Typhos could understand her position, so he had left it alone.
The night was going perfectly fine until about 11 PM. The doors suddenly blasted open, banging loudly against the walls as they swung back fully on their hinges. A group of 5 men and 1 woman entered, staggering up to the bar. It was clear to Typhos that they were already drunk, but he served them drinks anyway. It wasn''t really his place to interfere with people unless they broke Xavier''s policy. A few minutes of riotous drinking later, the woman began shouting at one of the men.
"Keep your hands off of me, Dylan, I''m not gonna fuck you!" She complained loudly.
The man, who Typhos guessed was Dylan, ignored her, sliding closer to her, wrapping a hand around her before groping her breast. She yelled at him and tried to push him away, but he only got closer. Typhos sighed and approached the group. Usually issues like this were resolved with a few words about Xavier''s policy and a bar from coming to Xavier''s. Tonight, however, Typhos would not be so lucky.
"Hey!" he said as he approached, "keep the hands of the lady. Xavier doesn''t allow that here, and it shouldn''t be done anywhere. Keep it up and I''ll be forced to throw you out and bar you from coming. Xavier''s only allows one mistake, Dylan."
The man turned to him and sneered. He released the girl, instead opting to jump over the bar, proving he had at least some level of stats. He landed right beside Typhos. He stepped closer, his repugnant odor wafting into Typhos''s nose. Dylan was a big man, standing at over 2 meters and 115 kilograms. He pushed his chest at Typhos, sneering down at him.
"Or what, little man? YOU are going to throw me the fuck out? You?"
"That is correct, Xavier''s policy."
"Hah! Let''s see you damn try." He said, as he stepped back, throwing a punch at Typhos. Typhos didn''t move, allowing the punch to land squarely on his face. When the punch made contact, a memory suddenly rose in Typhos''s mind.
"Don''t touch her....no....NOOOO....STOP I''LL DO ANYTHING....STOP....PLEASE..."
The crunching sound of breaking bone resounded in the bar, and Dylan screamed. His pulled his hand back, examining the bent and dislocated fingers. Typhos couldn''t help but feel a strange sense of regret. He had almost hoped this man could hurt him, perhaps kill him, if he was in his repressed state. He had been looking for a way to die for a long time, but had never found one. Focusing his thoughts, Typhos reached out, grabbing the bewildered Dylan by the color. He hoisted him into the air with little issue, and threw him across the room like a ragdoll. One of the doors was yanked off its hinges as Dylan slammed into them. Typhos placed one hand on the bar and vaulted it, landing lightly on the other side. He stalked forward, shoving chairs out of his way. He stood over Dylan, looking down at him. Bending over, he picked him up once again by his collar, holding him in the air in front of him.
"Don''t. Come. Back. And don''t lay a hand on that woman again." He said coldly, before his free hand lashed out, connected with Dylan'' chest. He released his grip on his collar as the punch connected, and Dylan was blasted backwards. He flew 5 meters before landing with a thud in the street. Turning around, Typhos found himself confronted by the four other men. Typhos tilted his head slightly, his voice cold.
"Get out. I don''t want to see any of you again."
The men scurried past him, leaving as much space as possible between them. Typhos made his way over to the bar once again, this time entering through the turnstile. He grabbed a glass and a premium bottle, pouring a glass and sliding it across the table to the girl.
"You alright?" He asked.
"Ye-yeah...I got to go." She said, ignoring the drink as she scrambled for the door.
About 30 minutes later, the sound of sirens echoed. Of course, this was nearly a nightly occurrence in the slums, but this time was different. Typhos cleaned the final glass of the night, having shut down the bar early, and changed into his leather jacket. Exiting the break room, he made his way to the front of the store. He picked up the door and placed it against the wall. Stepping outside, he allowed the police officers to tie his hands behind his back, speaking as they did so.
"Typhos Dillian, you are under arrest for the murder of Dylan Astros."
Chapter 3: Release
Typhos stumbled forward into the cell, the sound of the laser gate following shortly after. He glanced behind him, watching as the guard walked out of sight. The bars that blocked his exit were not the kind of thing someone could get through, even with his physical strength. They were not the iron bars he was used to seeing, but rather a energy laser gate. Anyone who even tried to touch the laser would lose a finger. The lasers used on the cells were strong enough to burn through steel in seconds. The cell itself was made of an alloy specially designed to withstand high levels of heat, making it perfect to counteract the laser gates. Inspecting the cell, Typhos found the accommodations very lacking. The room itself was about 2m by 2m. A single cot on the back wall and a toilet on the side were all he was provided. When he had first come to the prison, they had stripped him of clothes completely before forcing him to wear a yellow jumpsuit. The suit was another technological marvel that humans had developed. Remotely activated by guards, the suit could straighten the fibers it was made of, making it impossible for the inmate to move. The suit also had a small electric pad sticked into the fabric. Guards could activate this and send electricity through the entire suit, and in turn, the prisoner.
Typhos made his way to the cot and sat down, his head between his knees. He hadn''t meant to kill the man outside the bar, but it had happened. He had lost control against another person for the first time in centuries. He knew that the person he killed was scum, but it made no difference on his damaged conscious. He could feel the man''s chest caving in as he punched him. The sickening crunch of ribs as they shattered. Then, the thud as the body hit the ground. When he had heard that sound he had known. He had lost control. He knew the man had tried to rape a young girl in the bar, knew that he could never condone such an atrocity, but he had sealed his power for a reason. He closed his eyes, a memory from deep in the past resurfacing.
"Do it Typhos...make her understand her error.''
Typhos obeyed, unable to stop himself as he hit the girl. She flew backwards, smashing into the bedroom wall. He plaintive cry cut short when the air was forced from her lungs. She fell to the floor, clawing desperately to escape. He could hear her nails snap and scratch as she clawed furiously for the door. Then, the voice came again.
"Wait, Typhos. I''m feeling a bit...excited. Rape her. Make sure she is alive while you do it, I want to watch."
Again, Typhos''s body moved against his mind. He stepped forward and placed a hand on the girls shoulder. A light flowed between the two, and the girls wounds healed instantly. She immediately struggled, hitting him and screaming. Unaffected, Typhos subdued her hands with ease before ripping her shirt off. Next came her pants, then her undergarments. He threw her onto the bed, removing his clothing as he approached her. He grabbed her and dragged her to him, forcing her to submit. When he entered, her screaming stopped, a silent look of terror, anguish, and sadness in her eyes. Typhos fought the control, but failed as he continued the act.
"Not on the bed, Typhos. Take her against the wall."
Wrenching her from the bed, he slammed her roughly against the wall before entering her again. Blood dripped out of her and onto his penis, but he didn''t stop, didn''t care. She was completely still now, unmoving as he abused her. Finally, the release came. He pulled his penis out from her, and looked back at the man who had watched the ordeal with filthy pleasure.
"That was good, Typhos. Now, snap her neck, we need to go."
Typhos turned to the girl once more, and a sharp, short snap resounded in the bedroom. The girl''s body fell to the floor, her head facing the wrong direction, his seed still leaking from her.
"Inmate, your dinner." A sharp call came from outside the cell. Struggling to his feet, Typhos looked groggily at the guard outside his cell. The officer was dressed in a black suit and tie, complete with dress shoes, sunglasses, and black, leather gloves. Of course, Typhos knew every single article of clothing on the officer was made of the hardest cloth alloy available to the government. It could withstand anything from electric shocks, to gun shots, to knife strikes. It was nearly indestructible, and it was this uniform that gave the police such an advantage over everyone else. The officer was holding a small tray that had some sort of mush on top of it.
Seeing he was awake, the guard pressed a button on her belt and Typhos''s jumpsuit locked up, freezing him in his current position. Next, the laser gate deactivated and the guard placed the tray on the floor inside the cell. Then, she stepped back and reactivated the gate. When the lasers were fully functional again, she pressed her belt again and his jumpsuit loosened.
"I''ll be back in 10 minutes to retrieve the tray, be done by then." She said before walking off.
Typhos looked at the meal in front of him, not hungry at all. He had spent years avoiding conflict, avoiding situations that would put anyone else at risk. Of course, a bar was not the best place for such a lifestyle, but he had survived. Xavier''s was the only bar around, so people followed the rules and didn''t get into trouble. Now, not only had he killed someone, but he had been reminded of his past. Of course, rape was only one of the things he had been forced to do, and in his mind it wasn''t the worst, but it still haunted him. A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead, dropping into the food in front of him. He found himself shaking uncontrollably, his entire body shivering. He stumbled back to his cot and sat, mumbling under his breath. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"Tyal Street, Findal Drive, Hyle Boulevard, Tyal Street, Findal Drive, Hyle Boulevard, Tyal STREET, FINDAL DRIVE, HYLE BOULEVARD!" His voice rose and eventually he snapped. His fist slammed into the wall, leaving a sizable dent in the alloy and shaking the entire cell. All the energy left his body and he collapsed on his cot, his chest heaving. The vision of the man hitting the ground replayed in his head, over and over. Occasionally, the eyes of the girl in his memory would stare at him from the man''s face just before he pushed him, pleading him not to do it. Typhos curled into a ball, rocking back in forth. He did not respond when the guards entered his cell. He did not respond when his suit locked up and an electrical jolt was applied to his body. He did not respond when they questioned him. He sat there silently, rocking back and forth, his mind on repeat.
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Three days later he was released. A guard came to his cell and said that witnesses had testified it was self defense. The man had hit him first, and he had retaliated. A small band was placed around his wrist, a probation bracelet. He could contact his personal officer through hologram message if necessary, and the officer could also contact him. He was not allowed to venture 1 kilometer outside of Wilheim Street. If he did, the bracelet would administer a shock, and the police would arrive to take him back to jail. They also gave him a contact number and address for a therapist, encouraging him to get mental help. Typhos had laughed at this. He did not need a therapist, he was perfectly fine. The last one he had gone to had done nothing but tell him to recite street names from his childhood whenever he had flashbacks. Of course, it worked sometimes, but others it did not.
A few hours later he was dumped off at the corner of Wilheim Street, just a short walk from Xavier''s Bar. Typhos assumed he would be fired, considering he had killed someone, but he still needed to go back. Jasmine would want to know what happened to him, and it was her shift right now. As he walked down the sidewalk he couldn''t help but notice the people glancing at him. He put his head down, deciding to grab a drink before meeting Jasmine. The shop bells tingled as he entered, and he was greeted by the shop owner.
"Well if it isn''t Typhos. Got out of jail did you? Maybe you should lay off the drinking, never know who you could kill next." He said.
"Just give me the damn rum, okay?" Typhos said, slamming two 10s he had withdrawn from the bank down on the counter. He exited the shop, bottles in hand, and headed for Xavier''s Bar. As he passed by the alley that ran alongside the bar, he tossed the two empty rum bottles into the alley, eliciting a angry shout from the homeless man inhabiting it. Ignoring him, he pushed open the double doors and looked at the bar once more. The chairs, usually neat and orderly were strewn all across the room. Most of the bottles of liquor behind the bar were shattered or spilled. The turnstile at the end of the bar was broken and pieces of table were strewn about. Behind the bar stood a tall, well dressed man with sleek, black hair.
"What are you doing here, Typhos? You ruined my damn bar when you killed that man...RUINED IT!" Xavier screamed at him. Typhos ignored his rage, a look of confusion on his face.
''Where''s Jasmine? This is her shift..."
"They took her. They came back two days after your ass was arrested and took her, screaming out of the bar. They took her because of you asshole. You finally have something to be proud of. She''s probably been drugged, raped, and left to die in an alley by now." Xavier spat at him.
Typhos froze. Jasmine was gone, taken by men. Taken because he had killed a man. Taken because he had lost control. He shook his head, mumbling incoherently to himself. He had trusted Jasmine with his past. Well, not all of it, but most of it. She had talked with him for hours, given him drinks until he blacked out on the bar, dragged him back to the employee room, never criticized him for his drinking habits. She had been the only true friend he had on Wilheim Street. She had been the only person he truly cared about here. Now, she was gone because of him. Just like before, the woman he was friends with was gone. Just like before, the woman was gone because he couldn''t control himself. Typhos closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, the despair inside of him slowly being replaced by anger. How dare they take her away from him. How dare he allow it because he sealed his powers in despair. He would not allow it!
He reached into the system, releasing one of the skills that he had sealed for nearly 10,000 years.
Past Vision (MAX)
Mana: 50/sec
Peer into the past and look upon what has transpired.
-See up to 240 hours into the past
-Replay anything from that time at will
He looked up, his irises changing. Slowly, a clock formed inside of them, its black color contrasting with the golden iris. Slowly, the hands began to move, flowing in reverse. His vision turned grey and he saw Xavier walk backwards into the break room. Then, he exited the room backwards and left the building. Time began to accelerate backwards, faster and faster until he reached the time he wanted. First he saw the scene in fast reverse, then he allowed it to play forward slowly. He saw a group of four men enter the bar. They began to throw chairs and smash tables. One of them forced his way past the turnstile and began to destroy the liquor shelf. When Jasmine tried to stop him, he slapped her across the face, her head slamming into the glass casing around the premium liquor. A few minutes of destruction later, two of the men grabbed Jasmine and dragged her out of the bar. As they left, Typhos caught a glimpse of a tatoo on one of the men'' shoulders. An Ouroboros.
Typhos''s eyes snapped back to normal. He glanced coldly at Xavier before he turned and strode from the bar, his eyes shining slightly.
Chapter 4: Action and Regret
Typhos walked down Wilheim Street, manipulating his status as he walked. It was possible to check most skills as sealed or released, and he had spent a long time with every skill possible sealed. Now, he was going to release every single one. It took him several minutes to reach the bottom. At the final skill he hesitated. If he released this skill, he knew that the only thing remaining would be his drive to save Jasmine. Every single one of the gang members would die, and nothing would be able to stop him. He didn''t want to revert back to his old self, but he also didn''t want to feel anything. He was afraid of the repercussions, but he was more afraid of what he would feel. He read the description one last time before releasing it.
Apathy (MAX)
Emotions are severely dulled.
It was a short description, but it was all the user needed to know. With the skill released, the conflicted look on Typhos''s face disappeared, replaced by an emotionless mask. He checked his status, excluding all but his basic skills, to make sure everything was working correctly.
Status
Name: Typhos Dillian
Race: Human (Immortal)
Age: 10,043 years
Sex: male
Fame: 0
Currency: 40 Vin (12,121,232,464,121 Vin)
Class: Harbinger of Destruction
Subclass: Master Assassin
Subclass: Reality Lord
Subclass: Eternal Magelord
Level: 24,232 (123,321/110,221,442,884)
Skill Points: 0
Titles
Immortal, Chaos Lord, Lord of Order, Lacuna Lord, Cosmic Controller, Death Lord, Life Bringer, Master of Time, Master of Reality, Lord of Creation, Lord of Annihilation, Psychic, Lord of Elements, Superhuman, Genius, Regenerator, Weapon''s Master, Martial Lord, Pretender, Addict, Troubled....(99+)
Attributes
Health: 200,000/200,000
Mana: 1,000,000/1,000,000
Health Regen: 20/min
Mana Regen: 500/min
Strength: 50,000(250,000)
Constitution: 20,000 (100,000)
Agility: 50,000 (250,000)
Perception: 30,000 (150,000)
Intelligence: 100,000 (500,000)
Wisdom: 50,000 (250,000)
WIllpower: 10,000 (50,000)
Spirit: 10,000 (50,000)
(sub)Physical Resistance: 10,000 (50,000)
(sub)Magic Resistance: 5,000 (25,000)
Skills
Manipulation Skills :
Skills:
Chaos Manipulation (MAX)
Order Manipulation (MAX)
Lacuna Manipulation (MAX)
Cosmic Manipulation (MAX)
Death Manipulation (MAX)
Life Manipulation (MAX)
Time Manipulation (MAX)
Reality Manipulation (MAX)
Creation (MAX)
Annihilation (MAX)
Fire Manipulation (MAX)
Water Manipulation (MAX)
Earth Manipulation (MAX)
Wind Manipulation (MAX)
Mind Manipulation (MAX)
Content that his status had returned to its true form, he closed his eyes, focusing on listening. He knew that the kidnappers would not have taken Jasmine far, as Ouroborus was only a small time gang focused in the immediate vicinity. A plethora of sounds entered his mind. The woman down the street talking on her communicator to her husband about their son. The store owner arguing with a customer about the quality of a product. The super from his old apartment moaning as someone went down on her. Then, he heard what he was looking for: the sound of fists and the shouting of angry men.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"Your fucking bartender friend killed one us. Now, he''s in prison so we can''t get to him, but you...you are the next best thing. You see, we can''t let word get around that our fucking gang, OUR fucking gang is weak shit!"
Typhos stopped listening, having already pinpointed the exact location. Three kilometers away, on Willow Street. He walked forward, not rushing. He knew that they would not kill her yet, and his skill influenced mind was only focused on saving her life, not saving her from a beating. As he reached the end of Wilheim Street, the probation bracelet delivered its designated shock. Typhos paused, then focused his mana on the bracelet, warping it into his pocket dimension. The bracelet gone, he continued on his way. Half an hour later he arrived outside of what he guessedwas the Ouroboros hideout. A large warehouse, which blended in perfectly with the other warehouses on Willow Street. He approached the large doors and focused his energy. The doors began to warp, bending up and back with a horrendous screeching, twisting beyond repair. Typhos never stopped as he entered the warehouse and approached the group of about 20 men that were surrounding a chair. He saw Jasmine in the chair, her face bleeding and her body cut in several places. His eyes shone slightly as he peered at her life force, confirming she was alive. No longer concerned with Jasmine, he turned his attention to the men who were now staring at him, weapons drawn.
"Who the fuck are you?" The one who Typhos assumed was the leader shouted at him, waving his weapon wildly.
"What, boss," one who he recognized from the bar shouted, "that''s him! That''s the one who killed Vince!"
"Oh, so it is. Well, we have to thank you for coming to us. Guess she really was your friend." He said, turning to Jasmine and running the tip of his sword along her chin. The next instant his head was separated from his shoulders. Jasmine screamed through the tape as blood splattered on her face. Typhos appeared beside her and tapped her lightly on the back of the head, knocking her out. The rest of the gang members'' eyes went wide, then they all attacked. Typhos didn''t even move, but all the men stopped. They rose off the ground, struggling helplessly. Typhos tilted his head and began to crush them. Their faces contorted in pain as their bones began to grind into powder, their flesh warped and split, their arms and legs inverted on themselves with sickening snaps and squelches. Finally, Typhos gave a final push, pushing their heads down through their necks and into their chests, killing them instantly. He released them, allowing the mangled torsos to fall to the ground, blood, brains, and other fluid covering the floor.
His task done, Typhos turned to Jasmine. He once again looked for her life force and noticed it was fading. His mind noticed that this contradicted his goal of saving her, so he placed his hand on her head. A light shone briefly and Jasmine''s wounds disappeared instantly. The ropes tieing her to the chair disappeared into his pocket dimension, and Typhos scooped her into his arms. He carried her out of the warehouse, not caring to avoid the mess on the floor. He focused, sending his mind back to the front of Xavier''s Bar. Then, his body, along with Jasmine''s, teleported away, arriving instantly in front of the bar. Typhos placed Jasmine gently against the wall of the bar, right next to the door, before he decided to leave. He knew he had no home here anymore. He had slaughtered a group of men, ruined Xavier''s Bar, and exposed himself to the world. His mind once again seemed to leave his body, traveling across the slums to a street across the city. Seconds later, his body disappeared, reappearing kilometers away in an alley.
Typhos accessed his skills and turned off Apathy. Even without emotion, he knew living like that would be detrimental to himself. If he could not feel emotion, people would be driven away from him, making his life hard. The moment the skill was deactivated, a rush of feelings entered Typhos. First came the thrill of the fight, the joy at killing again. Then came the utter disgust and hatred for himself. He had sworn to her, promised her on her deathbed he would not kill again. His last promise to the only woman he had ever loved, and he had broken it. He had lost control, and he could have possibly undone 10,000 years of work. He had striven to control himself, for her, but it seemed he had failed. He stumbled to the wall, tears leaking from his eyes. In a sudden fit, he sealed every skill he had unsealed, reverting his status to its weaker state. He sat against the alley wall, defeated. He was in a daze. He was not a hero. He was not a savior. He was a mass murderer, a rapist, a psychopath who had destroyed millions of lives. It didn''t matter to him if he hadn''t really been in control during those years. He had let himself fall into the trap. He had let himself get controlled, so he was indirectly responsible for all of his actions. Typhos sat in a daze for hours, rocking back and forth.
"Tyal Street, Findal Drive, Hyle Boulevard, Tyal Street, Findal Drive, Hyle Boulevard, Tyal Street, Findal Drive, Hyle Boulevard..."
He repeated the phrase over and over, trying to calm his mind. Eventually, his mind shifted. He had just committed mass murder. Regardless of whether or not it was a gang, he knew what would come next. There was no escaping the cameras anymore. Police Drones regulated every street in Tivor. He would not escape the police unless he fled the slums completely. He staggered to his feet, stumbling into the street. The pedestrians gave him a wide berth as he headed for the bank. He was lucky that the city was very systematic. A bank was located at the corner of every second intersection, making them easy to find. Halfway there Tyhos realized he was covered in blood. He turned into an alley and frantically unchecked one of his skills. His clothes disappeared and were replaced with a clean set from his spatial storage. Sealing the skill again, he entered the street. He knew he stood out, since his clothes had been the style millenia ago, but it was better than blood. He hurried to the bank, his mind running through possible scenarios.
He withdrew 2,000 Vin from one of his many accounts and left, hurrying for the nearest checkpoint. He could try to find some place to live in the slums, but it was likely they would be swept for him. He had already broken his bracelet and disappeared. That alone was enough to warrant a manhunt, considering he had killed someone and was considered mentally unstable. On top of that he had committed mass murder. The police likely would not stop the search anytime soon. Ducking into a shop, he bought himself a hat before continuing on his way. The checkpoints would probably be watched, but he knew everything could be bought. The police likely already knew about Ouroboros, though it would take some time for them to ID him. He figured he could bribe the guard at the checkpoint to let him through to the commons. There he could create a new life. He could go back to his old way of living.
Hat pulled low on his face, Typhos approached the guard. Not many people went into the commons from the slums. Almost none of them could afford the 1,000 Vin fee and still have enough to have a life on the other side. The guard jerked in surprise when Typhos placed 1,000 Vin on the booth.
"You''re gonna have to show some ID if you wanna get in." He said, his voice bored.
"How much to skip that part?" Typhos asked hurriedly, still anxious that the guard would force him to ID.
"Oh....1,000 Vin and you go in without showing ID." The guard said quietly.
Typhos just nodded, placing 1,000 more Vin on the table. The guard smiled and slid a small card through the glass.
"Welcome to the Commons, citizen."
Typhos didn''t respond, opting to swipe his card through the receiver. With the small hum the circular steel door blocking his way to the commons opened itself in a spiral, allowing him access. The gate closed behind him as he entered the Commons. His heart rate began to slow as his short flight was over. Security rarely carried over through to different levels of the city, so he was free. Closing his eyes, Typhos took a long breath, calming himself.
"I need some booze."
Chapter 5: Catching Up With The Times
Entering the Commons was like walking into a different world. From the stone and wood of the Slums to the steel and alloy of the Commons. While a three story building was large in the Slums, in the Commons Skyscrapers dominated the landscape. The city was lit up like the stars in the sky, forever shedding its light upon the world. Streams of air-traffic constantly hovered in the sky, the flying vehicles the common means of transportation. Screen showcasing the latest news covered the entire sides of buildings, and a second and third set of highways were built on top of each other, giving access to higher parts of the multi-layered city. Several hyper-train rails snaked throughout the city on every level, offering a form of public transportation to the populace. The smaller buildings, though dominated by the massive skyscrapers, were no less impressive. Most were several stories high, and outfitted with landings for vehicles.
The entrance booth to the city was located on the third and highest level of the city. When he stepped through the exit terminal and onto a glass balcony overlooking the city, the first of the sounds hit him. The shouts of men, the whir of electronics, the constant hum of the aircraft, the near robotic voice of the talk show host speaking the latest news to the populace. Typhos simply stood there for a moment, taking it in. He had avoided inner cities since humans began to become technologically advanced. He was used to the old way of doing things. He hadn''t even owned a communicator while he lived in the Slums, instead choosing to do his business face to face. 10,000 years of habits was hard to break, but it seemed he would have to start now. At least, the technology habits. Heading to the bank machine next to the aircraft terminal, he withdrew a sum of 3000 Vin. Things would be more expensive in the Commons, and he would need the cash for what he had planned. If he was going to make some life changes, to fit in and disappear again, he might as well change some other things.
Money in hand, he made his way to the aircraft terminal and waited for a taxi to arrive. When he waved the taxi down, the driver looked at him strangely. Typhos opened the passenger door of the two seater and got inside.
"Take me to the nearest bar."
"That''ll be 30 Vin." The driver responded.
Typhos handed the money over and leaned back in his seat. The taxi was completely controlled by technology, all the driver had to do was input the coordinates into the digital display and the car did the rest. Typhos wasn''t sure why they didn''t just get rid of the drivers all together and put in a failsafe to ensure nothing was stolen, but it might have to do with loss of jobs. The taxi pulled away from the terminal, its engines whirring as it accelerated. The car was designed to be a compact machine capable of flight. The body of the vehicle looked like a much more advanced version of the transport vehicles from the Slums. Engines were visible at the back, and the body was rectangular in shape. The roof was curved like an oval dome, and the hood of the vehicle was cone shaped. Just behind the passenger and driver doors was a set of delta wings. The entire car was made of a silver alloy, and the glass windows were tinted black.
The actual insides of the vehicle were very small, with most of the back space being designated to the electronics that ran the car. The seats were made of a rich, comfortable leather, and the dashboard was made of the same silver alloy as the rest of the vehicle. The only visible controls were an emergency brake, emergency landing controls, and a digital screen in which the coordinates would be placed. If the digital controls failed, the driver would be able to take over and steer the car to safety with the power of an emergency battery. However, cases in which the electronics failed were few and far between, with only about 2 incidents a year. The inside of the vehicle was also sound proof, allowing the passenger and driver to enjoy a quiet, peaceful ride to their destination. Thirty minutes later, according to clock in the bottom right of the digital screen, the vehicle came to a stop.
"The bar is just one building to your left after you exit the aircraft terminal." The driver said.
Thanking the driver, Typhos exited the vehicle and stepped onto the a glass platform connecting him to an aircraft terminal. The upper levels of the city were much smaller than the lower levels, consisting of just the higher floors of the skyscrapers. Small walkways, outside of the major highways, made walking between different establishments possible. Exiting the terminal and stepping onto one such walkway, Typhos made his way to the bar. It was positioned on the upper levels of a oddly shaped skyscraper. One side of the triangular building curved outward while the other two were perfectly straight, giving the building a slight raindrop shape.
The doors to the bar opened automatically as he approached, beckoning him to partake of the pleasures it had to offer. The bar was much more high class than what he was used to. It made sense, he guessed, since the people got richer the higher you went in the Commons. Nude women danced seducingly, attempting to woo customers into giving up their money. Ignoring the women that tried to gain his attention, Tyhos headed straight to one of the many bars positioned around the establishment.
"I''ll take two of whatever your strongest rum is." He said as he sat down.
"Right away, sir." The bartender said, pirouetting and walking directly to a bottle positioned on what he guessed was the premium rack. The man then grabbed two glasses, bigger than shot glasses but still far to small, and poured the liquid into them. He then replaced the bottle and returned to Typhos.
"That will put your current bill at 2,000 Vin, sir. If you want to pay digitally, you can use the screen to your left to withdraw funds directly from your bank account, or swipe your card on the scanner beside the screen."
Typhos''s eyes widened slightly at the total, but he nodded his head and took a drink. The alcohol, he had to admit, was fantastic. Six drinks later he was already feeling a bit tipsy, which was unusual since he had a resistance to alcohol. Slightly pleased he had found a way to knock himself out quickly, he ordered more drinks until everything began to fade. Just as he was about to collapse, the bartender stepped near him and placed something against his mouth. Instantly he was awake, gasping for air.
"I am sorry, sir, but I cannot allow you to pass out on the premises. It is bad for business and also makes it impossible for you to pay. If you wish to drink till you collapse, you can buy some bottles from us and do it at home."
"No need for that, what''s the bill." Typhos responded, slightly annoyed. The bartenders eyes unfocused for a moment before locking back onto him.
"You bill is currently 16,000 Vin. 11,000 for the drinks and 5,000 for the awakening agent."
Grumbling something about rich scumbags, Typhos moved to the screen that was embedded in the table on his left. He stared blankly at the screen, having no idea what to do. Two small boxes were on the screen, one labeled NAME and the other PASSWORD. He knew what his name was, but what was his password? He had never had to use a password at the banks in the Slums. All he had to do was say his name and the clerk would put it into the database. If his face matched the one that popped up on the screen, the clerk would give him his money. He turned the bartender, confused.
"I have no idea what my password is. I have never had to use it before."
"If you do not know your password, you can use your fingerprints to access your account. Simply place the fingers of your left hand on the bottom of the screen after inputting your name."The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Typhos complied with the commands, entering his real name into the NAME field. He had actually never used his real name when accessing the bank before, always using a fake one and shifting banks whenever he made a withdrawal. If he had used his real name for all of his accounts, or placed all his money into one account, than he would have been robbed by the clerk the moment he or she saw the totals. This time was different, however. The account under the name Typhos Dillian was the only one with over 5,000 Vin in it. It housed 100,000 Vin, and was his backup in case of an emergency. Second, he placed the fingers of his left hand on the bottom of the screen, just as the bartender had told him.
*Scanning
*Error: fingerprints do not match account name
*Error: fingerprints not found in interpol system, please standby while other systems are searched...
*Error: fingerprints not found in any accessible database, account cannot be accessed. Please find the nearest bank to access your account in person
Typhos stared at the screen, then closed his eyes as he realized the problem. He had never allowed himself to be scanned or put into a database. His birth record was long destroyed before databases were even a thing, and he had avoided getting his prints scanned anytime after. Of course, his face was in the database. That was how the cameras had identified him after he first killed the Ouroboros member outside Xavier''s Bar. Frankly, it amazed him that the police had never tried to run his prints while he was in jail. Perhaps it was because he had never been in prison for more than 5 days. They never saw a reason to confirm the identity of an alcoholic who came across innocent in all his cases. He looked up at the bartender, an innocent expression on his face.
"It seems that the system has failed. Is it possible to reserve my tab? I assure you I will come back and pay it in cash."
"That is possible, though it will, uh, incur a 50% tax." He said, a confused expression on his face.
"I''ll do that then. I''ll be back with the money." Typhos said before he turned and hurriedly exited.
Just as he had left, the bartender moved over to the screen, looking at the still blinking error message. His eyes narrowed for a moment before he pressed a small "x" in the top right of the screen. Turning away, he returned to his duties as if nothing strange had happened.
-----------------------------
Typhos walked as quickly as he could through the walkways, trying to find his way to a bank. He needed to make the withdrawal and return as quickly as possible. Perhaps he could bribe the bartender to keep it a secret, if the man had even seen what was on the screen. Over an hour later, Typhos finally decided to ask for help. He slowed down until he was walking beside another pedestrian, a flamboyant looking girl in a stunning dress.
"Hey, uh, could you direct me to the nearest bank, I need to make a withdrawal." He said hesitantly.
The girl glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Why would you need to do that. Can''t you just use a card?"
"I don''t have a card, actually. I''m new in the Commons."
"Oh, well, the nearest bank is three buildings that way. I recommend you also get a card and a chip from them. The card can be used to pay for things without you doing anything besides signing, and the chip, they implant it in the base of your neck, lets you pull up map and lots of other useful things in your head, kind of like the system but so much more useful." She said in one big splurge, talking far to quickly.
Typhos thanked and and moved toward the bank. He thought he would skip out on the chip. He didn''t like the idea of having a foreign entity inside of him, even if it was just a computer. He knew enough to know computers could be hacked, and he would never be controlled by someone else again. In fact, he would kill himself before he would be controlled again. Well, if he could kill himself. You see, that was something he had already tried before. It seemed his immortality did not allow him to take his own life. He tried hanging himself, stabbing himself, decapitating himself, blowing himself up, bleeding himself to death, drowning himself, and even jumping to his death. Every time he tried, he always survived. Wounds he should never have been able to recover from healed instantly and air filled his lungs underwater. This was another part of the curse. He could never end himself. He had to wait until someone was strong enough to kill him and take the curse for themselves, just as he had done 10,000 years ago.
Pushing the thoughts of control out of his mind, Typhos finally found the bank. When he entered, he was greeted by a a glass wall with a small slit in it. Behind the glass he could see a male clerk typing away at his computer. The man turned to Typhos, a smile on his face.
"Welcome to Commerce Bank, how can I help you today?"
"I would like to register for a card and make some withdrawals."
"Perfect! Let''s do the card first. Would you like it to be face recognition or fingerprint recognition?"
"Face recognition."
"Alrighty then, please bring your face close to the glass just above the slit so I can scan your face."
Doing as he was told, Typhos was slightly surprised to see the the glass begin to glow. A light shone from it, running up and down his face, scanning it perfectly.
"Thank you, the card is now designated to your face. When you swipe it, you will need to allow the terminal to scan your face as confirmation of purchase." The clerk said as he pulled a card out of slot in his computer and handed it to Typhos through the break in the glass. Taking the card, Typhos inspected it. It was made of stainless steel and completely blank and smooth, save for a small series of bumps along one edge. Typhos assumed this was where you scanned the card. The clerk cleared his throat, interrupting his thoughts.
"You also said you wanted to make a withdrawal, yes?"
"Yes, 30,000 Vin from the account under Typhos Dillian."
"Alrighty, I will make the withdrawal immediately." The clerk said as he pushed a few buttons on his holographic keyboard. Typhos heard a small hiss, and a compartment beside his computer that was attached to a shoot that went into ceiling opened to reveal a neat stack of bills. The clerk grabbed the stack and pushed it through the glass. Typhos inspected the stack, ensuring that it was thirty 1,000 Vin bills. He turned to leave before he stopped and faced the clerk again.
"What is your name?" He asked.
"James Smith." The clerk replied shortly.
"How much would it take for you to do a bit of...extra work?" He said, leaning casually against the glass, looking at James. The man turned to face him, a look of surprise on his face.
"Are you...bribing me? You do realize there are cameras"
"Camera footage can be erased. How much?"
"Well..." James said, coming closer to Typhos and lowering his voice, "what is it I''m doing?"
"Transferring money from several accounts under different names to mine. I assure you they are all my accounts, I just don''t like to keep my money in one place."
James nodded vigorously, as if he understood. Then, he looked at the ceiling as if debating something. Finally, he nodded to himself, coming to a decision. He leaned toward the glass again, his voice almost impossible to hear.
"1 million Vin."
"Done, you can make the move to our own accounts when you are transferring the money." Typhos said, glad his bribery had succeeded. He wouldn''t move all his money, just a small percentage of it. If James knew about the millions of accounts he had created over the years he would definitely not stop at 1 million Vin. Typhos began to list the fake names he had used to make his accounts. If he didn''t have such an absurd Intelligence stat, he would never have remembered all the names, even if he spent all 10,000 years of his life repeating them all. Two hours later over 750 million Vin had been transferred into his main account. When he had seen James getting a bit restless, he had told him he could keep 10 million Vin instead of 1 million.
Cash and card in hand, Typhos returned to the bar to pay his bill. The bartender said nothing about the fingerprint scanner, but quietly accepted the additional 3,000 Vin as a tip. Finally having set himself up with enough money to buy enough booze to drown the city in, Typhos spent the rest of the day running up a massive bill at the bar, only stumbling out when the bartender said they were out of the premium rum for the day. Having drank more than enough rum to make him sick several times over, Typhos finally set his mind on what to do next. He figured he would head to the bottom level of the city. Things were more like he was used to down there. Dirtier, cheaper, and much less high profile. The best part of moving down, though? The damn bartender would allow him to pass out on the counter.
Chapter 6: New Start, Old Name
The ground level of the Commons was very similar in structure to the Slums. The cells were still the same length and width, and most of the buildings were still apartments. The main difference was the scale and lighting. While the slums had a lot of natural lighting, most of the lighting here was artificial. The skyscrapers blocked out most of the natural light, leaving the streets in a murky gloom. The average building was over 5 stories tall. Individually owned homes were only common in the High District, so most people in the Commons lived in the apartment buildings. Apartment life wasn''t bad, though. Everyone had running water, electricity, comfortable beds, work areas, and recreational areas. Some buildings were comprised of only two rooms per floor, leaving plenty of room for large families to live. There was something for everyone in the city, and most people made their own money legally and safely.
Sadly, this was not the case for everyone. Despite the large police presence with flying camera drones and plenty of people on the force, crime was still rampant in the city. People adjusted to the cameras. They got good at hiding their faces, knocking the cameras with illegal EMPs, or finding some other way to avoid the police. Most of the police didn''t even care to arrest petty criminals. The jail space was not limitless, so they liked to reserve it for the murders, rapists, child abusers, and other such offenders. Since murder would get you hunted almost endlessly, at least in section of the city it took place in, most robbers abstained from killing someone. This made the streets less dangerous, but still not the best place to be at night.
It was nearing dusk as Typhos walked down the sidewalk, trying to drown out the constant noise. The Slums, while not the prettiest of places, had been far quieter than the Commons. The hum of vehicles was almost unbearable at ground level, and the constant hubbub of the humans wasn''t much better. Typhos considered getting some headphones and a communicator so he could drown out the noise, but decided he could do that later. Currently he was looking for another bar to get drunk at, and perhaps find a job in the process. He needed to establish himself in his new home. Perfect integration was essential to not raising suspicion. If he could simply slide into a job, find a small apartment, and blend in to the community, he could get back to his old way of life. He could try to put his recent relapse behind him and move on with his miserable life.
The street lights flickered overhead as he trudged down the walk, scanning the buildings for any sign of a bar. The crowds here made it much harder to get where he wanted quickly, but he guessed it also made him blend in better. At least, he would blend in if his clothes didn''t stand out so much. The random articles of clothing he had pulled from his storage had just happened to be a set of pioneer clothing from 2,000 years ago. The frilly collar and sleeves, tall socks, and buckled shoes didn''t really blend in. Suddenly self conscious, Typhos spotted a sign that read "Tipper''s Clothing" and ducked inside. He picked a random set of clothing, a shirt that read "Metallurgy" and had a guitar design, baggy pair of denim pants, male combat boots, and a pair of leather gloves. Just as he was about to check out he decided it would be best to buy a hoodie was well. He would prefer if the cameras couldn''t track his face wherever he went. Of course, he could always change his face using one facet of his Pretender skill, but he prefered to never shift again. The feeling of shifting bone and squirming muscle was not a pleasant one, and he had a few bad memories attached with that specific skill as well. A hoodie was a rough solution, but it would have to do. Thankfully, Tipper''s came with a changing room, and Typhos was soon out on the street again, dropping his old clothes into a trash receptacle just outside the store. He knew the clothes would be sucked into an underground purging facility where they would be completely destroyed, not even leaving ashes behind. The gas would then be channeled into power and used to run a factory somewhere in the city.
Hoodie pulled over his face, Typhos continued his search for a bar. He was kind of surprised at how difficult it was proving. Apparently bars were less common here than in the Slums. However, he eventually found what he was looking for. "Diana''s Club" was a small establishment, despite its name. It was positioned on the bottom floor of a 6 story building, and even had a "hiring" sign in the window. Typhos was standing outside the window, looking into the "club" when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and faced a small man with a handlebar mustache and a beer belly.
"If you''re lookin'' for a job I wouldn''t recommend there mister. Nobody survives the job for more than two weeks with Diana. Ya see, she used to be an adventurer outside of the Extinction Zone. Got ''er level real high out their, and now she has some problems holdin'' in ''er temper. Tends to accidentally injure ''er employees. Got some ferocious strength she does."
Typhos raised both his eyebrows at the man, a genuine look of surprise on his face. The Extinction Zone was the 30 kilometer ring the surrounded the Slums. All wildlife, including monsters, had been completely destroyed by the government. There was nothing bust dust in ash in the Extinction Zone. However, the same could not be said for outside of it. Images from drones showed lush forests and mountain ranges that stretched kilometers into the sky. Monsters were a common occurrence, and adventurers were the ones who explored these "Wildlands." They tended to travel in groups and conquer dungeons, or extensive systems in which monsters spawned and congregated. Humans could raise their level by killing monsters, and then upgrade their attributes, making them stronger. What surprised Typhos the most was that Diana had quit the job before she died. Only about 20% of adventurers came back, and even fewer quit before they kicked the bucket.
"I''ll be fine." He said to the man before he entered the club.
The inside was about the size of Xavier''s bar, but there was a lot more open space. The bar itself was located in the middle of the room, and was in the shape of a circle. The drinks were on shelves on a central pillar that stood in the middle of the bar. Booths lined the walls, with extra large ones in each of the corners. Stools were positioned around the bar itself, giving the patrons a place to sit directly next to the bar. He wasn''t sure if the term "club" could be applied, considering no poles, dancers, dancefloors, or other such commodities. It looked more like a restaurant that served liquor than anything else. The lights were dim, and a few of them flickered uncertainty, and the steel floor was dirty and scratched. The stairs to the second floor were positioned in the back left corner, and looked like it would be safer to climb up the outside of the building than ascend them. Typhos could definitely tell Diana didn''t care much for appearances. He could relate, though it irked him that she cared so little for the bar.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
The woman herself was currently behind the bar, serving a drink to one of her four patrons. She was tall, but not heavily muscled. She had olive skin and dirty blonde hair that tumbled to her shoulders in a mess of curls. She wore a tank top and a dity pair of denim pants. A small knife was visible on her left hip, and from the look of the sheathe it had seen plenty of use, perhaps in her time in the Wildlands. Typhos made his way to one of the stools and sat down, leaning on his elbows as he waited for Diana to come over. She finished with her current customer and headed over, hear voice flat and leaving no room for argument.
"What''ll it be? Whisky, Rum, or Beer? That''s all I''ve got so don''t ask for something else."
"Actually, I''m here for the job opening."
This caused her to stop in her tracks, clearly startled. She walked slowly over, putting her hands on the counter and tilting her head slightly.
"You sure? You do know why that job is open, right?" She asked, a bit of hope in her voice.
"A man on the street enformed me, yes, but I''m not worried. I''ll be fine."
"Ha, that''s what they all say. Well, consider yourself hired. 1000 Vin a day, you can start right away."
"Is there a uniform of something?"
"Oh, hell no! I couldn''t stand a uniform, now hurry up and grab the broom from the storage closet in back, someone broke a bottle in the back booth and I never got around the cleaning it up."
Typhos nodded and headed for the back closet. He had intended to be a bartender, but he was sure he would get to work it eventually. As far as he could tell, Diana had no other employees, so he guessed some of the menial labor would fall to him. He didn''t really mind, considering the place needed some fixing up. Sure, he was slob, but he still hated to see a bar in such poor condition. He been using alcohol, both serving it and drinking it, to run from his past for millenia. While the location and style had changed slightly over the years, he had developed a slight respect for a clean bar. It helped service and service helped him buy more liquor.
He was pleased to find that the broom had a metal handle. He tended to accidentally snap wooden brooms if he got frustrated with something, so having a metal one was nice. He was certain there was machines in the Commons that could sweep floors automatically, but he guessed Diana was just as out of it with technology as him. After all, guns were available for purchase in the Commons, but she chose to use a knife instead.
The rest of the night, only about three hours, was spent with him vigorously cleaning up the place. He swept the glass fragments into a pile and then took them to the trash receptacle. He repeated the process for all the dust and dirt in the room. When he couldn''t get it with a broom, he headed back to the closet and grabbed a bucket and a sponge. Typhos tended to be lazy most of the time, but when he worked, he worked. Working was another way to make him forget, and it almost worked as well as alcohol. When it was finally closing time, Typhos headed back over to the bar and sat on a stool.
Diana came around the central pillar, a bottle of whiskey in hand. She grabbed to glasses and placed them between the two of them, pouring them each a glass. Typhos accepted gratefully, downing the drink in one go. He grabbed the bottle and poured himself another glass, downing that one as well.
"You really do know how to drink, don''t you?" She asked, a slight smile of amusement pulling at her lips.
"Yeah, well you get good at when it''s your main hobby." He said as he poured himself a third glass.
"Well that''s something we have in common. Knock yourself out if you want, that''s what I tend to do."
Typhos responded by pouring his fourth glass of whiskey and swallowing it. Finally he slowed down, instead opting to ask her a question.
"You know anywhere I could stay? I just moved her and need an apartment."
Diana raised an eyebrow, but chose not to question him, instead giving a solution that he did not expect.
"You can stay upstairs if you want. It''s a two person apartment but nobody ever wants to live with me. I don''t sleep the best and tend to bumble around."
"Wow...sounds familiar." Typhos said, pouring himself a fifth glass.
"By the way, what''s your name? You never told me when you came for the job." She asked.
"Typhos Dillian. Professional day drinker and bartender." Typhos said, the strong whiskey starting to get to him slightly.
"Well, my names Diana Tillen, hopefully you stay at the job more than two weeks."
Typhos froze when he heard her last name. He knew her name. He knew her name all to well. Memories flashed through his mind. A beautiful smile, a calming laughter, a warm hand in his. Cherry blossoms falling around him as he held her in his arms, enjoying a beautiful landscape of stars. Finally, blood on his shaking hands as he stared down at her, broken and helpless. Typhos shoved himself away from the bar, knocking the stool over as he backed away.
"Sorry, I uh, forgot something." He said as he stumbled as fast as he could out of the club.
Outside he turned down the nearest alley, collapsing against the wall as his mind reeled. What were the chances? What were the chances that he would run into one of them here? Tillen. Tillen. Of course, it was possible it wasn''t the same name. That had to be it. Same name, different people. It had to be, it had to be. A single tear trailed down his cheek, and he wiped it away. Suddenly, a light went off inside of him, triggered by the name. His briefcase. He glanced around dumbly, expecting to see it by his side. It was gone, he must have left it at the bar when he was arrested. It was probably long gone by now, taken by the Ouroboros or dumped somewhere by Xavier. It had most likely already turned into fuel for the factories, along with its contents. Realizing his loss, Typhos sat there dumbly, staring at the wall across the alley. That briefcase had been his last link to her, his last link to the good part of his past. Well, he thought dully, he guessed that wasn''t true now. After all, if his feeling was correct, Diana Tillen had just forged a new one.