1 laza/Paradigm - Chapter 6: A Returning Servant

I haven't written in a very long time. This chapter might be trash, and I may or may not have forgotten what the plot was prior to this, but I shall read my notes and pray I can pick back up what was once an ambitious project of mine.

-V

"Good..." 

Lifting her up by the waist, I struggle to move her to the couch, the strength in my body still not entirely there. Laying her down on the red cushions facing up, her chest rises and falls slightly with hushed breaths. 

The moment I picked her up, there were two things that I noticed, the first being that her body is ice cold, practically freezing. That alone would be enough to worry me, but had it been just that, I wouldn't have had this nauseating feeling in my gut. I didn't fuss much over it seeing as she opened the door and let in the air from the outside, but now that it's just the two of us in here, it's clear to me now where that smell is coming from.

"So, God, 'ya got any idea what happened to her?" I ask as I walk to the hallway, stopping at Sayuri's room.

'As I've mentioned previously, I am not omniscient, you fool. However, seeing as Sayuri has come to you in such a state, there is no doubt that the Servant we're dealing with transferred over by unconventional means. For now, I advise you to remain by Sayuri's side until she awakes.'

"Yeah, yeah."

The inside of her room is barren and lifeless, not a modicum of personality to be found within it. The only pieces of furniture inside are the bed placed awkwardly in the center of the room with a dresser right behind it, scratch marks all along the wooden floor from when I was first locked in here. With plain white walls, it's almost depressing seeing how befitting this room is of Sayuri's personality. Simply standing at the doorway brings back unwanted memories of a time not too long ago, but as off-putting as it is, I walk inside and open up her closet, ignoring the sensation of scratched wood under my feet.

'Ah, the first death,' Diatra says as I pick out a change of clothes for Sayuri, 'The Black Bloods before you underwent their firsts during their infancy, so for you to have to undergo it at such a mature age, it makes sense that you'd struggle to control your Dara. I would tell you that your control over it will better over time, but I'd only be deceiving you.'

"You're telling me it gets worse?" I ask with a furrowed brow. I already find myself struggling to remain cognizant whenever I enter that black-vein state, so for there to be a chance of the already thin line that I'm walking on to become even thinner...

'I don't say this to put you into a state of fear, but to put it in perspective: should your future play out the way that it is intended to while you're still on this terrain, you alone would be the sole reason for humanity's potential extinction.'

I remain quiet, not knowing what to say back to her. What else can I say after hearing something like that? 

Rummaging through Sayuri's clothes, I pick out a random shirt and a pair of shorts and go back to the living room. Sayuri's seated up on the couch, her eyes barely open and her body hunched over slightly. 

"Is that you, Cain?" she asks wearily as she turns her head in my direction, squinting her eyes at me.

"Yes, it's me. Diatra already told me what happened. Anything hurting still?" Leaving the clothes in my hand on the arm of the couch, I walk to the kitchen to get her some water. 

"I don't feel pain at the moment... but... on my back..." she whispers weakly, her voice barely audible. 

"Your back?" I ask while turning off the sink, walking back to her with a glass of water in hand. While walking back, I get a clear look at what she was trying to tell me through the slits in her shirt, a large open gash running along her lower spine oozing with brown blood and pus. "Jesus Christ—"

Concern instantly takes the wheel as I rush to her side on the couch, putting down the glass of water on the floor and turning her body carefully so that her back is facing towards me, lifting her shirt up as well. Seeing it so up close, there's no doubt that the wound is infected, a mucus-like substance surrounding the edges of the gash accumulating into tiny globs of goop. It almost makes me want to vomit.

"Fuck—uh, can you get up? We need to wash your wound before it gets worse." Shaking her head no, I wrap her arm around my shoulder and help her up, being mindful of not touching her lower back where the wound is. I take her down the hallway and into the bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet seat and turning on the showerhead. "Lift your arms up." 

Sayuri does as I say and I take off her ragged shirt, throwing it into the hamper right by the toilet with the dirty clothes. Helping her sit onto the edge of the tub, I pull off the showerhead from its handle and spray water onto the gash gently until the majority of the pus and blood oozing out is gone, leaving a greenish and open wound. 

"Want me to wash you entirely, or are you fine with me treating your wound right now?" I ask as I turn off the water.

"Yes, please... My skin feels sticky..."

I let out a sigh, putting the showerhead back on the handle momentarily. "Alright, lift your legs up a bit."

The next few moments are spent undressing her and helping her into the bathtub. I was considering turning the tub on to make this easier, but seeing as her wound is still leaking whatever liquids that come out of it, I decided to simply use the showerhead and spray it on the parts where I don't see any wounds. 

In that time, she warily explained to me how she ended up in such a state and where she was in the days she was gone. 

In her words, she had 'sensed the presence' of another like her in the area. Going out to dispose of them, she had tailed my pursuer for nearly two days before she saw an open opportunity to strike. The two of them fought out in the open, their fight leading them to a construction site, until Sayuri had finally wounded him fatally, but right as she was about to deliver the finishing blow, her body had become paralyzed and she fell to the ground. 

Apparently, and this is in her words still, my pursuer had frozen her in time and snapped her spinal cord.

A couple of days ago, I would've taken everything she just said as complete bullshit, but seeing as I currently am hearing voices in my head and am now in the know that I have the capability to cause the extinction of humanity, my view on reality is a lot more open-minded than it was then. 

There's still one thing on my mind that's bothering me after hearing all that though...

"If your spine really did get snapped, how come you aren't dead?" One would think that after getting their spinal cord broken, a person wouldn't be able to move at all, much less walk. 

"Diatra's blessing..." she faintly tells me as she gets up from the bathtub, taking the towel I hand out to her. "With it... my body heals itself much faster than it normally would. My entire body would have to be destroyed for it to stop regenerating, so the majority of wounds shouldn't kill me, albeit some take longer to heal than others."

"That's convenient," I murmur, stepping out into the hallway and stopping by the doorway to let her change. 

"Your body has been blessed by Diatra as well if you weren't aware. How else do you think you lived that day?"

"A miracle?" I say half jokingly, my right hand pressed against my heart.

"I suppose you can call them miracles." Stepping out of the bathroom now changed, Sayuri looks a lot better now than she did half an hour ago. "Now, if that is all that you needed from me and you've gotten all the information that you wanted, I shall proceed to let my body fall into subconsciousness in order to fully regenerate my spinal cord. Goodnight."

On cue, her body slumps over, falling forwards and close to hitting the ground had I not caught her.

'This is a lot worse than I predicted,' says Diatra as I wrap Sayuri's arm around my shoulder. 'I didn't think that he'd send one of his so early. This completely changes things.'

"You have an idea of who it is?" I grunt out as I take Sayuri to her room. Laying her on the bed, I grab the blanket from my room and cover her with it, a pitiful attempt at keeping her warm. I've tried my best at bandaging her wound as well, but if it's as she says, she won't need it much longer. 

Still, seeing her contort her face in pain also makes my heart heavy, but with what I can't say exactly.

'I know of which Whisperer this Servant belongs to, but as for who this Servant is specifically, that remains unknown. Nevertheless, being informed of the identity of their benefactor is suffice enough. With this, I can see a silver-lining to your predicament.'

"Good." I walk back inside the restroom, only this time opening the mirror cabinet. "She isn't going to heal any time soon, is she?"

'I'm afraid not, Murama.'

"Thought so." Grabbing the box of contacts, I take out a pair and place them on the sink counter, widening my left eye as I put one in. 

'If I may ask, for what purpose are you putting on contacts? If it's for disguise, merely changing the color of your pupils doesn't do much in altering your appearance.'

I blink my eye a couple of times before getting a good look at myself in the mirror, my left pupil blue, and the right one dark black. 

"I'm not sure how much you know about me," I start off explaining, putting on the other contact, "But there's a rumor in this city about a certain person you don't want to run into, and let's just say him and I look very alike. Useful or not, I feel a lot better about going out with these on than without."

'Ah, is that also why your hair is black as well?' She seems oddly interested in this.

"Yeah, same reason. I also used to put on spray tan just to be safe, but that started getting too expensive," I explained as the next contact was put in. Both my eyes now blue, I put away everything before walking to the living room, grabbing my hoodie from the couch.

'I take it this means you're not going to follow my advice of remaining inside?'

"Sorry, but I'm not in the mood to play sitting duck while somebody I don't know is after me, and more importantly—" Laying down on my back, I dig underneath the hole I made in the couch, taking out the mp3 player and earbuds I had in there. "There's somebody that might be able to help me."

There's one last thing I take out from under the couch, the only bargaining chip in my possession capable of swaying any negotiation I'd ever have with him. Without it, he'd still be likely to hear me out, but the chances of him accepting my proposal would be equal to none. This tiny vial held between my fingers contains what is possibly the most sought after liquid other than oil: the black blood that circulates within my body.

By itself, it'd be the most potent drug on the market. All it takes is a single drop for you to feel a trip so wild, you'd never want to take another drug in your life. With its only source being mwah, it had disappeared from the drug market for a while after my death, so for anybody to receive the opportunity to get their hands on a couple ounces of the stuff would be like winning the lottery, even more so for somebody with connections like him.

Of course, I'd also need to make a peace offering as well after my accident with that Pawn. Nothing had shown up on the news regarding him after that day, and from the lack of outrage from the Pawns on the next street over, it seems like the problem was already taken care of.

"That's so like him, fucking geezer making me owe him shit," I complain under my breath as I enter the liquor store.

It's not empty when I walk in, at the counter an unhealthily slender woman sliding in a fist full of pennies and nickels in the metal slot under the glass divider protecting the lady behind the register. There's an awfully rancid smell coming from her, likely a combination of weeks without showering and her crawling towards death's door. She's not helping herself by using what I'm assuming is all the money she has left to buy pre-rolls, but I won't judge. 

Do you, random homeless lady.

Before I step up to the counter myself, I take the opportunity to grab two packs of gummy worms and a soda, my eyes instinctively being attracted to the wall next to the coolers holding beers. I've always wondered why liquor stores have these types of posters plastered everywhere. They've been on the walls for as long as I can remember, the same Latina women with short shorts holding soccer balls for no reason whatsoever. Is it so that more people would buy the beer they're advertising? Why would having busty women holding sports gear increase sales? It never made much sense to me.

"Why do you stare at the poster so much, dirty boy?" says the Asian woman at the register.

"Is that really how you're supposed to be treating customers, Nana?" Placing what I'm going to buy on the counter, she begins to push the buttons on the register, likely overcharging how she always does. "Give me a pack Soriano's also, please?"

Reaching under the counter for a pack of cigarettes, she shakes her head as she punches in another three numbers on the register. "I don't like you anymore. You've become a bad boy."

"Aw, come on now. You're exaggerating." Well, exaggerating with the information that she knows about me at least. She isn't entirely wrong calling me a 'bad boy,' but the basis of her claim doesn't include the entirety of my skewed moral compass.

"It's true. You were nice and sweet little boy, but now you buy cigarettes!"

"You're the one who sells them to me," I retort, sliding her a twenty under the slot as she bags my things and puts them in the revolving panel to her right.

"Business is business, so I don't complain," she says shrugging her shoulders, handing me back what little change is left. "Doesn't change fact you're bad boy though. I should ban you from the store."

"I'm sorry, Nana. I'll definitely stop being a bad person from now on. I promise!" If I didn't look so stupid doing it, I'd give her puppy eyes right about now.

"Ah huh, sure. Now, go away - Oh, and cut your hair too! It's too long."

"I'll think about," I say as I leave, pushing back in the earbuds that were hanging off my ears. Turning the corner, I walk down the block and head into the next street, a street that I'd be avoiding at all costs if I didn't need his help. 

Letting out a sigh, I reluctantly step foot into a Pawn's street, one that I'm extremely familiar with: Verdif, one of the Black Pawns many claimed areas, and more importantly, Pook's current base of operations.