“Okay Mr. Graham, we’re almost out of time for today’s session. Is there anything new you’d like to talk about before we finish this up?” Said Greshit. Noah’s therapist, and Extra-Terrestrial Integration guide.
“Well… I was riding the bus to work yesterday, and I was one of the first few on. I looked around and… I just felt so small. So many of the other species here on Vishta are just-” Noah paused “I can’t help being intimidated by them.”
“I see. And why would something so coincidental bother you so much?”
“Coinci- it’s not about that. It’s pure intimidation.”
“And what do you find intimidating about it?” Greshit asked Noah, one eyebrow raised.
“I just… all these creatures are so much bigger, and stronger than I am. I make one wrong move or piss off the wrong alien and that’s it, I’m abstract art on the side of the road.”
“You know, there are laws against murder on Vishta.”
“Yes, yeah, of course but…”
“But will Vishta care about what happens to a C-Tier animal like me?”
Greshit took pause with those last several statements. As she continued logging the last few pieces of her conversation in her notes, Noah sat there in his chair. He sat there feeling the unusually tense, and awkwardly woven fabric. He’d been coming to these sessions for six human months. But despite that he still feels so out of place. Even in the presence of the kind but frugal Mrs. Greshit. Because to him she was still a Wrapthian.
Wrapthians, slender creatures bearing smooth gray skin with slender necks, not entirely unlike that of a giraffe. Their arms stretch on for what to any human would seem like miles. And legs that to any human would “Go for days” or maybe weeks. The fact of the matter is that to Noah, he was normal. And everyone… no everything else wasn’t.
“Let me ask you something Mr. Graham.” Greshit said finishing up her notes. “What do you think of me?”
“Wh-what?” Noah asked in return, caught off guard because of the question.
“Can you not answer? Is your Vishtian up to par?” Vishtian being the most common language on Vishta. Vishtians being the indigenous species of Vishta.
“No, I’ve gotten much better since our sessions started.” Noah said.
“Then what seems to be the problem?” Noah croaked in his seat. He had no answer for her question. “I think I know the issue. These terms you’re using to describe the people you see in your day to day. Terms like species, aliens, or my least favorite of which… creatures. You need to start seeing those around you here on Vishta as your fellow citizens, and maybe with a little time your fellow man.”
Noah had shut down completely from what she was saying. He knew Greshit was right but that didn’t help his insecurities. After all it wasn’t that he was some kind of racist. In fact it was quite the opposite. He felt inferior to those around him. That was something engrained into him. And what he’d put up with the last few years was making it even harder for him to see himself any other way. He’d be lucky if in just a few more lessons, that he’d turn it around.
“Mr. Graham. Noah?” Noah held on. He knew if he held on for just a few more seco- (Bell rings) that it would all be over. Greshit sighs and closes her notepad. “We’ll reopen this in the next session Mr. Graham. Try to think on it.”
“Thank you… I’ll see you next week.” Noah said as he grabbed his bookbag and left.
As Noah walked he thought about his life up until this point. He was a normal kid growing up. He played video games, took karate, played baseball, and hung out with friends. He had average grades and wasn’t the most popular with girls, but he did alright. He had a dog named Topher, and he loved his mom. He loved all his family. He missed them. He looked out at the afternoon horizon thinking about them.
He thought how excited they might be to see such an amazing view, and such spectacular sights. For example: Vishta’s afternoon sky. The planet’s primary star is a red dwarf, but not far off in the same solar system there lay a blue dwarf. And in most afternoons the two suns in the solar system shine on Vishta in tandem with one another. This creates a purple skyline with hues of red and blue surrounding it. And that’s not all that’s otherworldly about Vishta, the capitol planet.
It’s a real melting pot of cultures with all sorts of different architectures inhabiting it. Dark morose cathedrals with jagged cupolas like the ones back on Maltrax. Round, wide, and shining golden residences and apartment complexes slightly altered for Vishta’s climates and building codes originally created by the Wrapthians. Towering rounded skyscrapers clad with chrome, designed by Vishtians. The advanced business race that brought all (most) of the rest of them together. A truly unique experience that he’d love to share with his friends and family. But unfortunately he’s seeing it in "isolation."
And to add salt to the heart, there are aspects of this newfangled culture that are oddly familiar to him. Which almost makes it worse. Vehicles like cars (even though some can fly), and bus stops. Park benches, and sidewalks despite the fact that they look like some sort of post-modern art project. Almost like something someone in a Sit-Com would mistake for a bench at an art show they got dragged to by a blind date. Flying animals like birds, with the texture of a reptile, and reptilian like creatures that are feathered like birds. These “birds” are known on Vishta as Vitas. Definitely different to birds but Vitas are very similar and native only to Vishta.
And even a shop on the back and forth between his apartment and therapist’s office that serves a popular beverage eerily similar to coffee, made up of chemicals eerily similar to caffeine. A beverage known by the locals as zellos, a Vishtian delicacy. A delicacy he stops to enjoy every day. Not just on his way back from therapy but also on his way to work. Noah stopped by and grabbed a cup of zellos on his way to the bus stop. He sat down on a piece of post-modern art and sipped his zellos. He looked down at it, observing the dark color and thick viscosity of it. As he sat waiting, a strange and large local sat next to him on one side. Then another on the other. He sighed, taking yet another drink of zellos.
Once he arrived home he turned on his LED VISOR (HOLOGRAPHIC TV) and flipped it over to the news. He poured himself a cup of water and sat in front of the screen. On the visor two politicians talked about animal and creature’s rights activism. Discussing on the legitimacy of laws that were passed, outlawing the ownership of exotic species of a certain I.Q. On species such as Torvaks, Gwetzels, Humans, etc.
“Humans?” Noah laughed. “You mean human…” He said drinking his water. Now hoping for something just a little bit stronger.
“All I’m saying is ever since the passage of the Foreign Species Rights Bill, our society has accumulated a decent number of undesirables. Taxes have gone up for our longtime citizens, and crime rates have gone up.” The VISOR news anchor was quick to point out.
“Higher crime rates are normal for any population increase. And whose to say that some of these newer species aren’t going to go on to great things in our society. Take the Stym for example. Ever since introducing their culture we’ve already began improving basic over the counter medications, and the music… well some of it’s honestly fantastic.” Species rights specialist Trisxel said back to the anchor.
“Oh please. These “improvements” aren’t remotely noticeable without digging them up for this discussion. That’s their only merit. However one thing you don’t have to look too far to find are all the shootings. Shootings initiated by newer species, lesser species!” The anchor said as specialist Trisxel sat, looking particularly upset.
“Oh come on, the context of those situations are never told, borderline covered up…”
“Please sir, these “things” have been nothing but a menace to society. And the longer you hold onto this idea that these insects will ever be anything more. And that these “intelligent” species are your allies… then you might as well start considering our citizens your enemy.”
Noah flipped the channel on his VISOR. He flipped it to a long running Wrapthian soap opera. He went and made himself some dinner, and a cup of zellos as it played through its marathon. He tried not to let what was said on the news bother him. He knew the news anchor didn’t know what he was talking about, and for once he wasn’t going to let it bother him. Noah Graham knew the truth. He’s seen the regular population treat the newer species like dirt. And all too often these incidents are ignored by the police. Or at the very least de-prioritized.
On the flip side the prioritization to protect the original population over the newer populace was a conscious decision by law enforcement to keep the older population of Vishta happy due to the rising tax rates. This means new population crimes are reported more often, skewing the statistics. Basically in an effort to keep both parties happy nobody wins. Noah knows this all too well. But there’s nothing he can do. At least that’s how he feels.
After settling in for the night, Noah curls up in his bedsheets. Eyes wide open he lays there listening to the traffic and bugs outside. As familiar as they sound to his restless nights on Earth, there’s something just a little off about them. The vrooms of the vehicles don’t sound like the same vrooms. The chirps of the insects are nothing like the sounds the crickets made back home. Noah starts thinking about back home, and he becomes even more restless.
Hours later, Noah’s alarm goes off. He snoozes it, and with what feels like the blink of an eye it goes off again. Sighing, with horrifying bed head Noah sluggishly pushes his covers off of himself and heads into the bathroom. He stands brushing his teeth with a makeshift toothbrush. Most creatures on Vishta have different methods of oral hygiene altogether. And most others who brush their teeth have mouths either much smaller or much larger than that of a human. And the few that are of similar stature and anatomy to the homo sapiens have bristles that are too sharp for Noah’s sensitive gums.
Later on the street, Noah walks with a fresh cup of zellos. He sips it as he walks passed fellow pedestrians. Each larger and scarier than the one before it seemed. He was on his way to work at the meat packing plant. It was tough work, but he was used to it. After all when you consider where he was before the Foreign Species Rights Bill his current job was nothing at all. His former, for now let’s say “servitude” he did nothing but physical labor. Mopping, conveyor belts, mining, anything you could think of Noah was made to do it.
Even as he continued to walk he could feel the blisters on his feet though they have healed, the calices on his hands though they have softened. As he sits at the bus station he gets surrounded on the bench by both sides with species like Wrapthians and Domins, both species much larger than he. Domins in particular, are very bestial in nature, very fatty with rhino like skin and dark brown eyes.
Noah got on the bus, and he found himself surrounded by species that are much larger than him. The previously mentioned Domins and Wrapthians, as well as supposed “lesser” species like Torvaks. Muscular creatures with an anatomy similar to humans. Despite that there are some key differences.
Torvaks have red skin, and teeth like ogres that are pointed and hang out of their mouth and over their lips. On average they tower in height over humans. When your average human stands at roughly 5’9” a Torvak stands at 7’6” on average. This creature is quite aggressive which may be the source of Noah’s fear for them. He fears just about all of the other species on Vishta, but Torvaks are a bit different. They’re a species that have been newly elected into society thanks to the Foreign Species Rights Bill. So from Noah’s perspective they are even more unruly. But despite the fact that both humans and Torvaks are seen as menaces to society there are several key differences. Of course there are the aforementioned differences but there’s one more. Numbers. See even though this new world is seemingly against them, there are still plenty of Torvaks to support each other. They’re a community, unlike Noah who is the only one of his kind.
And Domins… well let’s say that Noah’s history with Domins is very unpleasant. After all as his planet was being destroyed by Marauder ships, it was Domin pirates that picked him up. Domin pirates normally follow behind Marauder ships as stealthily as possible. While the Marauders suck up a decent portion of the planet’s resources, the Domin pirates poach soon to be rare species to sell them to collectors, laborers, etc. Etc. often times being owners who want these species to be used for methods of pleasure. Luckily for Noah he was sold for labor and not for methods of pleasure or violence, or violence for pleasure.
After a string of unsuccessful sales pitches, Noah was eventually sold to a mining colony rich with minerals. The mining colony simply labeled V-6720. Unlike most of the mining operations out in the universe, V-6720 was one of the few operations with a legally owned workforce before the Bill was passed. Thanks to long fought political upheaval Noah was eventually set free. But not before learning the Domin species’ language as well as a little bit of Vishtian.
Sitting on the bus Noah sat scrunched together, unintentionally pushed up against the window by a large Torvak woman who was also on her way to work at a manufacturing plant for food containers. Noah was nervous. He tried looking out the window but instead he the saw the surly reflection of this incredibly muscular Torvak woman. It made him even more nervous, like he was trapped. But what came next was something Noah couldn’t have prepared for.
“Are you heading into work?” The Torvak woman said to Noah casually.
Noah was freaking out. He didn’t know how to talk to many people on Vishta. He was really only able to talk under more professional or business-related circumstances. His therapist Greshit, His boss and fellow co-workers, or cashiers and other people in places of business. Other than that he didn’t know how to talk to people, nay he didn’t want to talk to people. Yet here his is. In mid conversation.
“Well?” The Torvak said, as Noah ignored her. She then had an epiphany. “Hey, wait… you’re the human right? What was Earth like?”
(Speaking in English) “What? Sorry I don’t speak Vishtian.” Noah said.
“What was that? I’m not familiar with that language.” The Torvak woman said confused. “You should know one of the registered languages or else you’re not eligible for citizenship on Vishta.” She reminded him.
Noah panicked at that information. (Speaking in Domin) “So-sorry… I don’t speak Vishtian.” Noah said speaking a registered language.
“Oh was that Domin? Surprising but I suppose not very, given your situation. Sorry, I don’t speak that language very well. Regardless my stops up here.” She spoke. (Speaking rough Domin) “Sorry for bother you, I it.” She said bowing as Noah nervously bowed back out of respect.
After she got up and walked away Noah let out a big sigh of relief. He thought back to his time on Vishta so far and no one had so casually talked to him before. Although he was still scared of his own shadow on the capitol planet, under suspicion that it might be somebody or something else’s. Despite his fear however, the brief interaction made him feel warm. Warmer than a warm cup of zellos in the morning.
As Noah sat there thinking about his encounter with the working Torvak woman he had found that he’d arrived at his stop. He got up, grabbed his bag then was forced to wait for all the other species pushing their way down the line to get out. He sat there waiting for longer until he finally found himself at the end of the line. And as he approached the exit door it began to abruptly close. He let out as a gasp as the bus driver finally noticed his mistake then opened the door back up.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t notice you back there.” The driver said.
“It is fine…” Noah said, with his sights planted firmly on the ground.
In the meat packing plant Noah found himself rotating between various different tasks. From skinning the Vishtian equivalent of cattle to sealing cans of what’s essentially chum tightly closed. Cheap meat for low-income households. It was a dirty job, but the plant was kept surprisingly clean. Not only due to the efforts of the plant’s employees but also thanks to cleaning robots that specialize in sweeping and in sanitization.
“Graham!” Noah’s boss yelled at the top of his throat. “GRAHAM!” He yelled again slamming a can of chum down in front of him.
“Uh er... sorry boss I didn’t hear you over the machines.” Noah said nervously.
“Well do you hear me now?” The boss said calmy, veins still popping in his arms like it were a human’s forehead.
“Good.” The boss told him still caging his screams before immediately unleashing them. “Then why is this can of chum not properly sealed!” He said, squeezing the can so hard chum grease sprayed Noah in the face.
“I’m sorry sir… I guess I was just a little out of it.” Noah said before having his apron grabbed and gripped firmly into his bosses hands.
“Well you better start being in it. Because this kind of forgetfulness affects my bottom line. And you wouldn’t want to have to find a new place to work would you? After all it was hard enough for you to get this job. And it’ll be even harder after what I have to say to you!”
Noah looked up into his bosses’ glossy fish-like eyes with a sense of deep rage. He began clenching his own fists with a grip even tighter than the one that was on his apron. He gritted his lips from behind his teeth, and his eye started to twitch. His boss looked at him curiously. He’d never seen someone’s eye twitch before. Mainly because his boss was a Filopod. A species of what are essentially bipedal fish men who can survive on dry land.
“Sorry sir… I’ll do better.” Noah told him while slowly swallowing his anger.
The bosses’ dead fish-like eyes rest on Noah for a second. Then eventually the veins in his arms receded as he calmed down. The grip then loosened on Noah’s apron until the boss eventually let go of him.
“Good, good…” The boss said as he patted Noah on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work.” He then walked away.
Noah thought about that the whole bus ride home. He hated his job. But on Vishta for someone like him he didn’t have a lot of options as far as employment were concerned. All he could’ve done in that situation was swallow his anger and his pride and move on.
Back home Noah sat watching his VISOR as he waited for a cup of zellos to brew. As it was brewing he started righting poetry in English. This was one way that he found he could express his anger in a nondestructive fashion. And if anybody ever found it, it wasn’t like they could actually read it. Writing like this made him feel like he was in his own personal world that belonged just to him. It was a lonely, angry place writing in his small apartment like this. But it was all his.
Unlike the apartment itself. Which was essentially one efficient little box surrounded by hundreds of efficiently packed boxes on his floor. With dozens of floors both below and above of more efficiently packed boxes called apartments. They were also customizable to accommodate the wide variety of species living in these apartments. Everything from door size to toilet size and shapes are accounted for. This unusually left Noah with more leftover space than most living in the complex. Because his shower was much smaller, his bed was much smaller, and his toilet was a completely different size and shape with the exception of the base of the toilet. Which was much larger to accommodate the same size plumbing pipe as the other commodes. It wasn’t exactly a place to retire and hang up one’s hat or Drizzenwatch, but at least it was affordable.
After his zellos had brewed he sat drinking it while watching the same Wrapthian soap opera from the other night. He was a little surprised by how similar they seemed to soap operas and television dramas back where he’s from. He watched the same soap opera the next night after work. And then the next night after that one. And then the night after that. And then the next one again, until it was the weekend. He sat in the morning drinking zellos and watching the news again, waiting for the anchor to start slamming the Foreign Species Rights Bill once more and wondering which channels all the other news stations were on.
His alarm went off prompting him to get ready to go to his weekly therapy session. He threw on his clothes and grabbed his bag before exiting his apartment complex. On his way to the appointment he walked past the usual sights. Those dark morose Maltrax cathedrals, Vishtian office buildings and marketing firms. And of course the golden Wrapthian apartment complexes. Making him think of what more there is to obtain in his new life. But eventually the reality sunk in that in this case what was possible for some was impossible for him.
He just didn’t grow up in these environments, go to these schools, or even know anything about how this society operated. And to top it all off the new “lesser” species of Vishta weren’t exactly being welcomed with open arms, especially by employers. There just wasn’t the same opportunities for him here like there were on Earth. After all back on Earth he was a very promising youth with a great education. He had a driver’s license, and a car. A loving family and amazing friends. And a great job in engineering lined up. Now he was just Noah the meat packing boy who made slightly above minimum wage. He looked up into the red morning sky missing home. And though it was beautiful he dreaded the arrival of the blue dwarf, and the purple evening sky.
“Well Mr. Graham?” Greshit, his therapist asked. “Have you thought about those around you and how you should perceive them?”
“Honestly I think so.”
“Yeah in fact I’m starting to fear the creatures around me a lot less.”
“People…” Greshit reminded him.
“Yes, the people around me.” Noah corrected himself.
“My boss yelled at me the other day at work, and that idiot news anchor was talking about the Foreign Species Rights Bill, and I found myself feeling less melancholy and more, more… more rage.” Noah said. “I feel like I’m shedding my skin. Becoming more accustom-”
Greshit began to cut Noah off. “That’s good news… Noah. But anger isn’t always an emotion separate from fear, sometimes it’s an extension of it. And even when its its own thing… that doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. Just don’t let your anger do anything irrational. Use it only in appropriate situations.” Greshit told him as Noah felt like he was shrinking into himself.
“Okay, any other meaningful moments you’d like to share with me?” Greshit asked him with a sigh, and sad eyes.
“Well there was one more interesting instance I could think of.” Noah said.
“Well tell me about it.”
“I was on my way to work when a Torvak woman started talking to me.”
“Really? A Torvak woman initiated a conversation with you? What’d she say?”
“She was sitting next to me on the bus and asked me if I was heading to work as well.”
“And you said?”
“I… pretended not to speak Vishtian, and when she brought up citizenship eligibility I started speaking in Domin to get her off my case.” Noah said, not too proud to admit it.
“Really?” Greshit asked with disappointment in her voice. “You had an opportunity at making a real connection, possibly even a friendship here on Vishta and you fought to get out of the interaction so hard you used the language of the people who captured you to do so? Does that not sound insane to you?” Greshit then asked him rhetorically.
“It does…” Noah said with a whisper.
Greshit took a couple notes as she crossed her legs. Noah sat there for a moment reflecting on who he was becoming. He knew these feelings of anger weren’t going to get him anywhere. He knew his inability to communicate on Vishta was going to get him just as far, nowhere. And Noah didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to become better.
He thinks back to watching the news on his VISOR back home and he could still feel the depression in his eyes and the aching in his heart. He could feel a boiling in his soul, and the clenching of his hot, sweaty fist. And the part that worried him the most, was how he enjoyed that feeling far more than the sadness or the fear.
“Well Mr. Graham before we wrap up today’s session, I’ve got some homework for you that I think will do you some good. I want you to have one, and just one conversation with a stranger from Vishta. Maybe try to sculpt a friendship from it even? And then I want you to tell me all about it on our next scheduled session, and how it made you feel. You think you could do that for me Mr. Graham?” Greshit asked before putting her notepad away.
“I’ll try.” Noah said with sincerity.
Walking back to the bus station with that exotic purple sky looming overhead Noah kept his hands in his pocket and head down. He felt the weight of Greshit’s obvious disappointment coming down on him like it was the crushing weight of Vishta’s two suns. He didn’t feel like trying to converse with the creatures (people) of Vishta. And he didn’t feel like that was going to change anytime soon.
As Noah continued to walk he found himself in an area with a heavy Maltraxian population. A group of four armed, and four fingered people with pale white skin and beat red eyes that have no pupils only sclera (The whites of a human eye). They typically dress in black as is tradition due to the lack of color on their home world.
They’re religious eccentrics who more often than not use religion to take what they want, often times in the name of their God and the name of purification. One of those moments was tonight. As two Maltraxian thugs cloaked and hooded approached Noah quietly from behind the Vitas flew away in fear, sensing their intentions toward the poor, lonesome human.
“Strike up a conversation huh?” Noah whispered to himself, oblivious to the Maltraxian thugs behind him. And in an instant Noah found himself being choked by two Maltraxian arms as two more from the same Maltraxian grabbed hold of both of his arms.
“Alright specimen.” The second Maltraxian said as he made his way in front of the restrained Noah. He said it with a devilish grin and an evil look in his eye. “All of your cash… the Church of Maltrax demands, no deserves tribute.”
“Su-sure… whatever… whatever you want…” Noah said choking on his own words.
“Great I’m so glad we came to an understanding so easily. Perhaps in your next life you’ll be born and bred into the superior Maltraxian gene pool.” The Maltraxian thug said with that same grin plastered all over his face, teeth like shanks showing through his thin, pale lips.
“So where is it?” The second Maltraxian asked as the first Maltraxian squeezed tighter. “Tell us!” The first one then asked.
“It’s in my left… le-left pocket!” Noah said still choking and veins popping out of his neck and head. Face red as the Devil itself.
A man in business wear walking on the opposite side of the street stopped to witness the unfolding incident. He took out his comms device, and considered calling the Vishtian authorities when he noticed who was being assaulted. Noah Graham, a human. Or in the public eye, a “lesser” species. He then refrained from calling the police. Knowing that the act may be futile. And he didn’t need a call hours later asking if the victim still needed help. He instead decided to stand back and hoped the situation got better.
The first Maltraxian restraining Noah let one of the arms wrapped around his neck go as he reached into his left pocket with his four fingered paw and wrapped those fingers around Noah’s wallet and removed it, tossing it over to his buddy who then began to rummage through it for cash pulling out only eleven Ven, the Vishtian currency. The Maltraxian looked at the pitiful amount of money with searing anger. He crumpled it in his hands and reluctantly shoved it into his pocket, before punching Noah in the stomach with that same hand.
“Are you serious!? Eleven Ven!?” The Maltraxian said, Noah coughing profusely after being struck in the gut. “ELEVEN VEN!” The Maltraxian said as he punched Noah in the gut again.
Noah fell to his knees coughing even more as the Maltraxian holding him let go. The Maltraxian with his wallet then shoved that into his pocket as he whistled for his friend to rejoin his side. The first Maltraxian caught up with his buddy but only after spitting on the already wounded Noah.
“Don’t show up in this neighborhood lowlife!” The second Maltraxian said as the two began to walk away. The man in business wear drew a sigh of relief and began to approach Noah until something unexpected happened.
“HEY!” Noah yelled catching the pair off guard.
“You say something to us heathen?” One Maltraxian said.
“You better have a good reason.” Said the other.
“Yeah…” Noah said breathing heavily. “Give me back my wallet…”
“Oh no kid…” The man in a business suit said to himself.
The two Maltraxians laughed as they began to approach Noah, who knelt there gasping and angry. And as the first Maltraxian threw a punch he thought would connect easily he was surprised once Noah had weaved out of the way like a pro boxer. He then threw two simultaneously with his bottom left and top right hands but neither connected. He was even more surprised when a quick left jab hit him in the face. The second Maltraxian was shocked but not nearly as shocked as the first whose lip was split open.
“Oh you’re dead!” The first yelled as the second jumped in to support him.
Fists flew through the air like a snow flurry as Noah dodged them all, bobbing and weaving in and out like a basketball player dribbling on the court. In wasn’t long before Noah found himself with both Maltraxians swinging clumsily, both on his right and on his left. He leapt forward with speed and power clotheslining both of them as they hit the floor. The businessman smiled, studying Noah very closely.
“You punk!” One Maltraxian yelled gasping on the ground, the tables now turned.
The two Maltraxians burst off the ground continuing their flurry. But this time Noah was feeling confident. Confident, and angry. Before he knew it he was stepping in, popping off good jabs and stepping back out just as quickly. Once again the first Maltraxian swept in from behind Noah and grabbed him by the neck and arms. The second went in for another gut punch as Noah pushed his feet off the ground. He then used the weight of the first Maltraxian to gain stability for a strong double footed kick to face of the second, knocking him on his ass and leaving him dazed.
The other looked at his friend in shock while loosening his grip. Noah used the newfound wiggle room to gain momentum and crushed the thug’s nose with the back of his head. Out of habit the Maltraxian covered his face in pain with all four hands. Noah leapt in, keeping low and also keeping his footing as he drove his fist into the Maltraxian’s gut.
The Maltraxian while in pain covered his gut with the two arms from his lower torso, face still covered. And just as he began to uncover his face he was met with an incredible uppercut from Noah that laid him out flat. His eyes rolling into the back of his head, while Noah’s were almost as red as his.
“You have… no idea… how hard it is to get another Vishtian ID under my circumstances.” Noah said gasping as he grabbed his wallet, and his Ven from the Maltraxian pockets. “Also you made me miss the bus!” He said as he began angrily walking home.
Moments later the businessman stood above the two thugs, knocked out cold before his feet. His smile was unmatched as he adjusted his tie and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number, and it began to ring.
“Hey, it’s me Trisxel. I think I found the perfect candidate for that job we discussed.”