Chapter 11: The Unknowns. Part 2

“...!?”

Both groups stood still, staring at each other. It wasn't until a scream from the second floor was heard that the interminable moment ended.

“W-What the fuck are you waiting for?!”

With that, the men took metal and wooden sticks out of their bags. One of them even had a small kitchen knife. Perhaps obtained from the same home they were in.

The situation was getting serious, very serious.

Izzy's group had no idea what was happening. There couldn't have been anyone else for miles around except them and maybe the minibus returning from the supermarket. These guys had never been met before.

So, their knowledge didn't extend beyond what their eyes perceived at that moment; Nisha was laying in the middle of the steps, showing no signs of responding, and in front of him, an angry group who, upon hearing that scream, pounced on Izzy and her companions.

“Guh!”

The first to rush down the steps was a burly young man, almost the same height as Garwin. His movements were clumsy and he almost tripped, but he happened to be the one carrying the knife and therefore the most dangerous.

They say weapons are lethal in the hands of an expert, and a novice. By skill, and by chance.

And this knife was swung aimlessly, making it even more lethal.

They felt the heat in their chests. The heat of adrenaline and tension rising inside them. The heat that makes the vision cloudy, the heart races, and the breath catches.

"Tsk!"

Almost as a natural reflex, Garwin caught the armed man by the waist and knocked him to the side, missing Doger's body by mere inches.

The latter stepped back and watched as the two struggled on the floor amid babble and excessive insults.

"D-Doger!" He'd heard his name called behind him; it was Izzy pointing at a spot barely visible amid the chaos, the knife lying near bleachers.

It took the boy a couple of seconds to "process" what was being asked of him so urgently. He ran over and gathered the weapon with his trembling hands, threatening the others.

"D-Don't move! Don't----!"

Izzy would have done it on her own if the next individual hadn't been so bold, or stupid, as to ignore the knife and approach her with an old man's cane as a weapon.

Unlike the first, this one did manage to land a blow on the girl's body, right on her shoulder.

He had no qualms about whether it was a man or a woman, or maybe it was because he couldn't tell the difference since Izzy was wearing a complete football uniform, unusual for her gender.

Should she thank God or Garwin for suggesting they bring them? After all, the impact didn't break her collarbone thanks to that.

"…!"

Remembering this very important piece of information, Izzy sat up to grip the man's cane with both hands.

The strength he had in his arms was surprising, enough to hold the weapon with only one hand. He must have worked as a construction laborer or similar before he started violence against women.

But that overconfidence would come back to haunt him. Izzy let go of one of her hands and landed a quick blow to his wrist; there were no muscles in it.

"Ugh!"

Seeing him loosen his grip, Izzy snatched the cane from him and delivered a direct blow to the cheekbone of his face, knocking him to the ground.

Seeing him writhe in pain, the girl looked up, her pale eyes directed at the rest of the unknowns.

Adopting the stance of her art, one fist on her temple and the other directed at her opponents, she couldn't calm her labored breathing.

She'd practiced sparring before, but she was rusty, and it wasn't as realistic nor serious as the situation she was in.

"Ah ah... Ha... Ah..."

Sein and Garwin had already managed to subdue the struggling giant; another was rolling on the ground, cursing Izzy for deforming his face. There were four more strangers left, including the one on the second floor.

Two of them pushed Gitta aside and fled in terror through the front door. They must have realized they wouldn't have it easy this time.

"Hey! H-Hey!"

The remaining one was alone, retreating with measured steps.

"Jerry! You bastard! What are you still doing there? Get down!"

"Who are you!?" Izzy demanded, threatening with the cane she'd just stolen.

The frightened guy backed away, tripping on the steps and landing on his butt in a ridiculous manner.

“JERRY!”

“I-I'm coming.”

First, the footsteps of heavy boots were heard coming down the steps, and second, the last stranger appeared. Finally, the remaining member showed his face, but unlike his injured colleagues, he raised his hands in surrender.

“We won't do anything anymore,” said Jerry. “Will you—?”

“On your knees! Now!”

It was quite a surprise to hear the serene Izzy screaming like that. But no one could blame her.

Both strangers turned to look at each other and slowly complied.

Doger approached Izzy's side, pointing the knife at the men, in an attempt to frighten them. An attempt, just an attempt. He was more stressed than anyone in that house.

"I'm going to clean myself up..." Jerry said, slowly lowering an arm.

His nose was dirty with a white powder.

"Raise both hands!" Izzy demanded again. "Both of you face down on the ground. Hold your hands out to your sides and cross your feet. That goes for him too." She pointed at the man Garwin and Sein were subduing.

"Ugh, disgusting, you're all high..." Doger commented. Seeing how obedient they were, and Izzy's authority, was beginning to calm him down.

The three strangers did what they said, and in this awkward cross-shaped position, it was easier to control them on the ground.

It was then that Izzy asked Gitta to bring something that could act as a rope. He went to the kitchen and, after a while of messing things up, returned with some zip ties he found in a tool drawer. They're normally used to hang heavy objects on walls, but they were also useful as alternative handcuffs.

Meanwhile, Garwin took Izzy's place and, with Sein's help, lined up the three strangers lying on the floor. She had something important to do: check on Nisha.

"Hey, mothafuckas, who do you think you are? Cops?" Jerry mocked.

"Jerry, you're an asshole," his big friend stammered at his side. He seemed reserved, although he didn't hold back his annoyance at all.

Gitta ignored them and tied all the strangers' wrists to search their pockets.

A few keys, packs of chewing gum, a screw, a pack of condoms (fortunately sealed)... They really had nothing special with them except a bag with a whitish, dusty contents and a large wad of bills.

"Hey hey! That's ours! We're being robbed!" one of the men said.

The foreigner held him more firmly to stop his struggling and handed the things to Garwin.

"W-We're not keeping this, are we? Tsk," he asked Garwin, keeping pressure on the stranger's back.

"... You mean steal it?" he replied, counting each bill to annoy them. "I have to assume you didn't obtain this money legally."

"…"

Garwin approached one of the men. He knelt slowly and, holding the criminal by his hair, forced him to look up.

He was angry, annoyed... furious, in fact. Garwin had no shortage of desire to beat the guy until he spit out who they were and why they attacked his friends, or his teeth, whichever came first.

It was evident in his intense gaze and heavy breathing. The stranger only retracted his own words.

Releasing him, Garwin sighed deeply. That didn't stop him from frowning, but there was something more important at hand.

He shook his head and shifted his gaze to the stands.

"Nisha... Is everyone okay?! Izzy, how's Nisha?"

Hurriedly, she checked the boy's breathing and heartbeat. She removed his breastplate and then carefully dragged him up to lift his legs, moving them up and down.

"Gsk...!"

This maneuver would help the blood circulate back to his head.

Slowly opening his narrow eyes, Nisha woke from his slumber, Izzy's face being the first thing he noticed.

"N-Nisha! Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

He still felt dizzy, unable to respond immediately. Izzy noticed it, choosing to take things more slowly. She carefully lifted him up to sit on the bleachers and asked Gitta to get a glass of water.

Of course, the stranger, seeing an opportunity to free himself, shook himself to his feet.

"We said DON'T MOVE."

Garwin hadn't taken his eyes off him, nor his accomplices.

With the old man's cane, he slammed his cane into his back with more force than necessary. It was enough to send him sprawling back to the ground, this time shaking in pain.

"Gah...! Fuck! Ah..."

"Did you say something?!"

"AH! Tsk...”

He had struck a second blow, harder than the previous one, causing him to freeze and begin to cry.

It was true. He was crying. Maybe something had broken. No one was sure. What had broken for sure was the cane in two.

His companions were worried, thinking they would suffer the same fate, until Doger approached.

"H-Hey Garwin..."

He turned to see his friend's expression of stress and discomfort. Then he thought to himself that maybe he had overdone it again.

He looked back at the men lying on the ground and brought the now-sharp piece of the cane closer. The difference was noticeable in the calmness of his new expression.

"...Who are they and why did they attack us? Don't make me repeat myself, please."

"Can I kneel? Y-You won't understand me well with my mouth against the floor," Jerry stammered.

"Hah, thanks for your concern, but we have good hearing."

"..."

He swallowed a little and did his best to look at him, even though it was already difficult; Garwin's authority and anger were an intimidating image that only he perceived at that moment.

It rarely happened, but when he was in that 'coffeepot mood,' no one wanted to be around the boy.

"Look... Tsk... We don't do bad things, you understand? We're vigilantes, that's all."

"Vigilantes?" Gitta questioned, handing the glass of water to Nisha on the steps. The latter complained of a pain in the back of his neck, which Izzy quickly took to examining.

"Vigilantes are citizens with the right to uphold the law," Garwin explained.

"Isn't that illegal?"

"Well it may be illegal in your country, not in ours, kinda" Doger chimed in. "But who cares about that now? ...Why did these guys beat us up? That's the real question.”

"That's true," Sein said. "Vigilantes should enforce the law, not figure out how to break it. Or so they're supposed to be, right?"

Jerry sighed stubbornly. Disregarding his physical well-being, he settled down to kneel and continue the conversation.

Was he starting to feel the effects?

"This is idiocy, complete idiocy. I don't even have to explain. You guys got together to do the same thing we do, right? ...Why else would you be here?"

"For one that is NONE of your business," Izzy replied from behind him.

Beside Nisha, her hair obscured what facet was on her face.

"Heh, fucking excuses. Fine, brat. And why are you wearing those suits? I mean... What the fuck, dude?" Ah... Ha...

Garwin looked the stranger up and down.

"Do you live here? I don't recall the elders mentioning a son living in their house. And look at you, who are you to talk?"

Jerry definitely had no right to judge appearances.

It seemed as if he and his two companions had rolled the dice to decide what to wear that day: several layers of shirts, scarves, bracelets, heavy boots, and much more... They looked like homeless people. But seeing Jerry's perfectly trimmed goatee and his Temple fade in perfectly styled curls, it was clear that dressing poorly was no "unfortunate" accident.

"Ah... Y-You guys play cops with your handcuffs and all, and look how you steal our honestly earned money for helping others."

"Well, you've all been very busy," Garwin said, counting the bills. "There's over four million manecians pesos here. I'm surprised that Vigilantes get paid so well. Looks like I won't have to worry about the rent when our school course is over." He was sarcastic and serious at the same time.

No one would believe that the job of Vigilante could ever be well-paid. The bounties, if any, didn't exceed a police officer's monthly salary; even working overtime wouldn't break the threshold.

"Sorry, Garwin, is four million a big sum?" Gitta asked casually.

Vigilantees and bounties... He had no idea what they were talking about, but in a stressful situation that was calming down, talking would calm it down even more, and that's always better.

"Let's say about 4,000 US dollars, my friend," he replied. "And with the value decreasing every sec--- Sein?"

He was planning to continue his calm conversation until Sein's hand landed on his arm.

He was warning him, pointing at Jerry.

Jerry had lowered his head. His body was shaking and his breathing was getting more labored as the seconds passed.

"He's coming! H-Here it comes! OH... Y-Yeah... Who cares!? Nobody car...es! Gsk... Gah..." He stretched his neck. "Nothing, NOTHING matters anymore when the world is going to shit and 'they' won't even let us sleep. Vigilantes? We're fucking survivors...! No monster or living being is going to stop me! Ah... Tsk... He spat on the ground. Fuck all of ya... Let this country rot! Let the whole world rot!"

"...!"

Was he going crazy? Or was he the sanest of them all?

They hadn't expected it. They had been caught off guard.

At that moment, Garwin realized he wasn't going to get the answer they were looking for, and he was starting to get worried.

"Tsk! What are you doing?!"

He roughly grabbed Jerry by the shirt and dragged him to the bathroom floor.

His friends didn't say a word as they watched the boy throw the three strangers one by one to the same fate.

"Gah! ... Son of a-----! Brb!"

A wad of bills silenced the vulgar man.

"Never mess with us again, you understand!?" Garwin said before closing the door.

"Bastards! W-We know your names! We're coming for you! Watch your backs, you sons of-----!"

Closing and locking the door behind, Garwin turned at his companions in the living room.

He approached his friend and sighed, then helped him stand up.

"Are you okay, Nisha? ...Let's get out of here, guys."

They gathered their belongings and left the room. Whoever asked for the sheets and sweater there would have to settle for what they already had.

They were back on the streets, walking toward the point where the minibus would pick them up.

An awkward silence lasted for a while.

Garwin took deep breaths to calm himself down, and no one wanted to ask about it.

"Th-Those guys were sickos," Sein commented uneasily. "The further we get away, the better."

"They weren't crazy, they were drugged," Doger replied. "Man, it takes a few minutes for the effects to kick in, if you know what I mean."

"...And they said they'd look for us."

"They always say the same thing. The same chatter. If we could contact the police, at least they'd lock them up far away from here. Who knows, they'd even take them to the South.”

"Even so, we should do something with our identities, like many vigilantes do."

"Are you talking about wearing superhero outfits or disguises?" Doger questioned, interested.

"I don't think it's that extreme, but at least using... Nicknames... Or pseudonyms, something like that would be good, right?"

"Sein... Man, I like the sound of that. What do you guys think?"

"I don't think it's a bad idea," Izzy said. She really didn't care about that at that point. "It might save us trouble in the future."

"If Iz is okay with it, there's no need to ask the others, right?"

Garwin let out a small laugh and nodded. He was starting to relax.

"Perfect. We'll call Izzy... 'Serenity' or maybe ‘Eve’. Sounds good."

"Heh, shouldn't everyone choose their own pseudonym?" Garwin asked.

"That's fine by me, actually," Izzy commented.

"Fine, fine. So I'll be----

"Garwin, I'm nicknaming you 'Cross' because you like to lecture us."

"Garwin 'Cross' Stanford"... Uh. I like it. But I don't spend my life lecturing, my friend. Hey, and yours will be...?"

"'Eleven', of course. Nisha will be 'Dice', Sein will be 'Warranty' or maybe ‘Tag’, Gitta will be 'Ace', Xiomara will be 'Silk', Miruno will be 'Stolen', and the new girl whose name I can't remember will be 'Holyday'."

"I prefer ‘Tag’. I don't even know what 'Warranty' means... Why are they all in English, by the way?" Sein asked.

"Because it sounds cooler, man. There's no other reason."

"Did you really come up with all that right now? You really are creative," Garwin added.

"Thank you, thank you. It's a gift."

Izzy stopped dead in her tracks. She massaged her shoulder and looked around at everyone.

"We need to focus our attention on something more important, Doger."

"Are we there yet? That was quick. Time flies."

"...Nisha, are you feeling okay? Is the back of your neck...?"

"It wasn't anything serious, Izzy... They... They just pushed me. Maybe I hit myself falling down the stairs. And now that I remember, can they get out of there?"

"Of course," Garwin replied, glancing back. "The door was as thin as paper. The slightest breeze would make it fall. By the time they realize that, we won't be here anymore."

"I see..."

"Llunatics... Oh, I forgot to return this."

Digging into his pocket, Garwin pulled out the small bag of white powder that they had confiscated from the strangers some time ago.

"Is that it...? Is that right?" Sein asked curiously.

"I'll confirm it!" Doger offered, taking the bag from his companion's hands. "If you see me fall to the ground, it's because it's real, and of very good quality, in fact."

"You're not going to tell me you've tried it," Garwin chimed in. "I'd be very disappointed in you, really."

"What do you think? Man, I'm healthier than a vegetable. I was just joking, that's all."

"If it's like that, why do you keep it in your pocket? Izzy pointed with her finger. "Is that also a joke?"

"Heh, 'so It doesn't get cold.'"

By then Garwin was looking at Doger with suspicious eyes.

"Uh... Nothing like that ever came to the Institute, except for some candies, remember? Those colorful candies... I never tried them, nobody did."

"I think they caused muscle pain and nasal congestion," Nisha added. "Is it okay to touch the bag? Won't there be any residue left behind that could infect you?"

"..."

His friends stopped and looked at each other after hearing that.

"Well, we can definitely be sure that Nisha has never tasted anything like that, ever in his life... Hey, wait, did you hear anything?"

Unknown voices.

They were at an intersection waiting for the minibus. Alone. Or so they thought.

There was someone else.

A person. Far in the distance, watching them.

From their position, they couldn't see clearly except for a 'small white spot painted on the horizon' of the deteriorating streets.

"A person... right, Izzy?" Sein squinted.

"I think... it's a person dressed in white."

"White?"

High-pitched and low-pitched whistling sounds could be heard in the air. Similar to the cries of eagles, but definitely deeper.

Despite looking around, they couldn't tell the source of these increasingly loud noises.

"Birds?"

When they looked back in front of them, the white blur was gone. Instead, several, many more, appeared from different surrounding corners.

"(They're howling!)" Izzy thought. "We must leave right now."

"Y-Yeah, I don't like the look of this."

There was no need to remind Doger; he had already loaded the bags he was carrying onto his back.

Garwin and Sein were beginning to get an idea of ​​what was happening, and an idea of ​​what would happen to them if they stayed there any longer.

"We're leaving" Garwin highlighted.

There were no longer one, two, or three blurs, but ten or more.

Everyone turned around and began to flee without a second thought.

The white blurs followed them.

"Who are they?! ...What about the minibus----?" Gitta asked, also arranging his luggage on his back.

"Tsk, don't worry. Ah, ah... If they didn't see us, they'd surely go back to the Central thinking we went there."

"This can't happen to us now," Doger complained, throwing his hands up in the air stubbornly. He had stopped halfway.

"Doger, what the hell are you doing?!"

He pulled out the bag of white powder and hurriedly threw it toward the men, causing it to fall in the middle of the street.

"I don't know, man! Maybe this belongs to them or something!"

Garwin went back to his friend and tugged on his arm.

"They're not dogs, Doger! Let's go!"

He had treated them like dogs chasing meat. And somehow the comparison wasn't far from the reality.

After a couple of kilometers on the pavement, the group realized that the white spots had indeed stopped around the bag.

Were they really looking for it? No one knew, but it turned out to be an effective enough distraction to keep their distance.

"Ah! This path! Ah..." Izzy warned.

They changed course toward an alley. The paths were getting narrower, making it easier to scurry through them like mice, but in return, it was harder to navigate due to the garbage dumpsters and poor lighting.

"Like mice." An accurate metaphor for the smelly place, if not for the racket their bags caused by the objects inside them rattling.

"Gsk... Ha... Why----?" Doger stammered, leaning his back against the walls of the alley the girl had indicated. "Why haven't we left all this behind?"

"Ah... Ironic you should say that..." Izzy sighed, carefully peering outside. She knew he was right, but for some reason she wanted to point it out.

It was too late to drop off the bags; the noise they would make would give them away.

"Yeah, yeah, I know... Shh."

"Are those men still chasing us?" Gitta approached behind Izzy. "Maybe if..."

Before continuing, the girl stopped him with her index finger and signaled for them to back off.

They seemed to be getting closer. And they were.

“Which way did they go?”

“Fucking damn pussies...”

“Fuck this. Let's go back to the Supermarket”

“.... D-Do you have a cigarette?”

They heard voices nearby, just a few meters from the passageway they were hiding in.

They couldn't see their faces, and sticking their faces out too far would give them away, although they did have the opportunity to make out their white clothes and what they were carrying.

Knives, machetes, and even hardware tools; a hammer seemed stained with a dark liquid.

They prayed it was rust.

There were too many of them. Previously, they'd been lucky enough to encounter just a few men, not to mention that several fled the scene, but now, there were too many.

It wasn't a coincidence that the men were dressed in white. This was a street gang, and a popular one in the country. Real narcos.

They populated multiple areas across the nation, claiming spaces they called territories.

With varying degrees of control, hierarchies, and numbers, these gangs, or rather, organizations, were structured as 'families' and identified each other by the color of their clothes.

If the last strangers had once been a problem, these new individuals represented a grave danger, especially those dressed in white. No resident of the Republic of Manecia was unaware of who they were, and what they were willing to do.

Despite being a foreigner, Gitta felt the same sense of survival. With extreme caution, he grabbed the first thing within reach: a battered umbrella.

Doger saw him and hesitantly pulled the knife from his waistband. Unlike Izzy, who left her cane at the settlement, he took it with him by chance.

Neither he nor his companions could calm their breathing. They knew perfectly well what would happen if they were found.

They would be killed. In that dark passageway, on that hot morning in Homen, they would undoubtedly lose their lives.

Numerous footsteps could be heard fading away. All that remained was to wait for them to disappear into the silence.

"Hm? ...”

Haven't everyone left yet?

A man, the one lighting his cigarette, had both eyes fixed right in their direction.

They had been found.