by Marc Mulero
The surrounding Sins halted their moves to cheer the elderly woman on. With the beat pumping, Lito slowed the speed of his hip movement to match Chlomara’s, resulting in a fluid exchange of footwork that the two made look effortless. His swagger came through on the dance floor, confidence mixed with lanky limbs made for quite a show.
After five minutes of bedazzlement, Chlomara let go and waved her hands at the horde, then turned back to hug Lito. He gave her a kiss on each cheek and then held her hand in the air for the crowd to applaud for her once again before she walked off.
The Bulchevin natives resumed their fun while one of the three DJs artfully mended the beat from Salsa to Bachata. Cheers once more. Whistling. Lito howled at the DJs in approval, rounding his fist in the air for hype, before finally bringing his attention back to the dance floor, where a young woman had already stepped in place to join him. Hands clasped together by her lead, as he glanced at Oscin from over her shoulder. “Mira,” he spoke through a chuckle.
She turned to see the drunk being dragged to the floor by a young lady he’d made friends with. They both let out a hearty laugh and refocused on one another. Now just polite smiles, an exchange of skill, courting. They marched rapidly from side to side, feeling light at heart.
Oscin, on the other hand, awkwardly tried to keep up with the Bulchevin native, knowing he didn’t stand a chance. He pulled out his flask to take another swig in an attempt to numb himself from the embarrassment coating his face.
For the first time since they’d taken the fortress, Lito felt alive, his Sin mark burning as he danced into the night.
Blague paced toward a stage where thousands of Sins were gathered. It was good that they couldn’t see him yet, because his vision was trembling like an earthquake was occurring right in front of him.
He could only imagine how disoriented he appeared. But it wasn’t only him… his commanders too seemed vexed. All of them, beside and behind, they were all sharing their own sense of grief: Volaina… her eyes were black marbles, cold and constricted, endlessly reliving the trauma of pulling a trigger on the golden-eyed girl. Her secret to hold.
Eugene too – a crooked cigarette lit and his head falling back to look at the ceiling, likely wondering why he and his love had to part ways again.
Even Lesh seemed distant, the fate of her tyro creeping past the internal steel cage that worked to block her emotion.
The disconnection amongst his ranks was troublesome, and he couldn’t help but feel responsible.
The journey is taking its toll. Look what it’s done: my most talented are being tested beyond their limits. And the timing couldn’t be worse. So much in flux… the coming mission will change everything one way or another.
Hold on a little longer, my brothers and sisters, allies await us, while the Society awaits me.
Just as his vision began to calm and the worry start to subside, blue shockwaves of light suddenly clouded his eyes.
What now. He groaned.
From a bolt of white lightning, Elaina was conjured… walking, breathing Elaina, who strode right past him as if nothing was amiss.
He reached forward immediately, called after her in his mind. But in truth, he was at a loss. It’d been decades since such a vision took place in reality. How could she appear just like he’d remembered before death?
It was as if a black cat had crossed him, and the bad luck kicked in all at once.
Sound faded to the background, his legs abruptly buckled from under him. He braced for the fall with firm hands, taking a disturbing breath like he’d just been pulled from drowning. The surrounding commanders rushed to help him up, but an outstretched hand told them to back away.
Who am I to talk? My own trials are getting the best of me. In all of my years, I’ve never imagined such madness. Is this obsessiveness a side effect of being an old man in a young body? Have I let such a lifetime of self-control get to my head? It doesn’t matter. If I falter now, I’ll lose the faith of the Sins forever.
Blague shook his head and struggled back to his feet.
Eugene stepped on the cigarette butt and blew out his last puff of smoke. “Can you get through this, Blague?”
The Sin Leader squared his shoulders and marched forward. “I will.”
The commanders exchanged worried looks while making their way to the pillars below the terrace.
Blague neared the familiar ledge, guilt creeping up as it had been quite some time since he last addressed the civilians. The floor was crammed with different walks of life - unfamiliar faces of all shapes and sizes, all brought together by one common denominator: the mark they wore. Thousands of voices died down to a whisper once he reached the platform. Some unpacked their transmitters and held them up high for rebellion cells abroad to listen in, others rocked their children gently to hush them, and some started a chant, not through words, but by pounding their chests to show patronage.
Despite his shortcomings, Blague was welcomed by more than half the Senation population. He hadn’t lost them yet. His eyes scanned the sea of faces before stopping in the far back, locking onto a man clothed differently than the rest. He was almost glowing, creating his own atmosphere.
Orin leaned up against a wall near the fortress’ entrance. His signature cloths enveloped his torso, and his stormy eyes glimmered. Children played with toy trucks and miniature drills at his feet, while he rested deep in trance, returning from what Blague had guessed was another journey.
So, he resurfaces for this. My parents have an odd way of showing they care.
Blague looked down to take note of the rest of his commanders offering their support by lining up below the ledge.
“Sins,” Blague boomed. “I watch all of you stand tall when addressed by your class. Not cowering from whips, or running for cover. Do you know what that means?” His pause was brief. “That the time has finally come, where our name no longer represents the castaways. Look what we have become. Look at how we have grown. And this is but a fraction. The world hears us now. Make no mistake my brothers and sisters, this is just the beginning.”
Orin’s eyes regained focus at the sound of his son’s prevailing voice.
Blague gauged the crowd, noticing varying emotions and reactions among the Sins. Scoffs, angry sets of eyes, shrugs and other uneager gestures. One thing became quickly clear – he no longer had the undivided will of his people. It’s worse than he thought… the disconnection spread far beyond his commanders, past the fighters, to those who’d praised him for his grand strategy, for winning, once upon a time. There was only one thing left to do. He had to mend it.
“Progress, it seems, is not without its challenges. Discord flows within our home. Some of you question my decisions, wondering if my judgement has slipped into madness.” He stopped at the center of the stage and spread his arms wide. “Well here I am, standing before you - an agent of the Sins, a protector of the people. I offer my bleeding heart for our rebellion,” he proclaimed thunderously. “And that includes ripping it from this position, if that’s what is required of me. If you deem me unfit, speak, and I will step down. Because by no means will this valiant group devolve into the dictatorship that the Hiezers have become.” Blague surveyed the crowd while standing quietly, allowing them the opportunity to voice their apprehensions, but only radio silence carried throughout the fortress.
“Then so be it… onto the elephant in the room - the Aura. Many of you have accepted them into our way of life regardless of your discomfort. For those of you who have, I extend my gratitude, because know this - the Sin fighters that guard our home would be long perished if not for their heroic intervention in the Battle of Old New York. Your medics, your nurses, would all have failed to return if not for their support.”
Eugene eased a bit, approving of Blague’s words.
A woman in the crowd got onto her tiptoes and spoke up. “They repeat their god’s name nonstop. You can hear the recital in their mansion from here. It’s giving my kid nightmares.”
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br /> Blague ran a hand through his hair. “Their practices seem foreign to us. Their incessant chanting and worship may be unsettling, but the facts remain: under the leadership of their goddess, Asura, they’ve accomplished nothing but the betterment and survival of the Sins, of our families. What would you have us do?” he posed back to the woman.
She backed down and shook her head, at a loss.
“Sins, I implore you to keep a cardinal rule in the front of your mind: that the punishment should never come before the crime.”
A slow clap progressed into loud applause, his statement hitting its mark on perspective, and addressing an issue to which most of the audience could relate.
“Our vision will be realized,” he swept his gaze from side to side, “it has to. And I believe that trust is one of the many keys to get there. We have to find it again, however deep it’s buried. However difficult it may be. We have to open our gates if we’re to be something better than the Hiezers. We have to be on the side of humanity, as a whole, which includes the Aura. The benefit of the doubt must be given. Because, for those of you who remember what life was, a time back before all of this, you know these were the fundamentals of a better civilization. One of true freedoms. It was better. And it will be better again. I will give my life to make it so.”
He gave a moment to let that sink in, taking a long breath before raising his voice again.
“Brace yourselves, Sins. This is only the beginning,” he repeated. “Hold up your marks, let them shine as the only light in a dark place… because that’s what we are!”
The crowd cheered. Whatever it was that was lacking prior, whether it be shortage of transparency, rumors breeding from his silence, what have you, it dissipated just like that. The Sin Leader gained his people back.
Blague hopped off stage with a fist still in the air before turning to his commanders.
“Copy,” Eugene said, lowering his radio and rushing over to meet Blague. “There’s an incoming fleet of ten rounding the inlet in the back.”
Blague closed his eyes, seemingly elsewhere in his mind. “Combat ships?” he finally asked.
“No, it doesn’t appear that way.” Eugene flipped the rifle off of his back.
“Gather Drino and the others. Have his squads in position to fire on my order. Keep this discrete for now.”
Eugene acknowledged and hustled off.
I got through it. The last of my strength… I hope it was enough.
His vision began to warp, delirium starting to take a dire toll on his state of mind. He looked down to the floor, seeing Elaina stitching a patient that was wounded from battle.
“You’re in good hands,” she said to the man.
Blague lifted his head and paced forward, his altered reality following him. He nearly tumbled again, but caught himself on the wall.
I have to get up and assess this threat. There’s no time for this.
He pushed himself back upright and trudged toward the rear.
In panic mode, Cherris rushed over to him. “What is it, Blague? Are we under attack?”
“Impossible to say, but I’m sure if we were under attack, our walls would’ve been set ablaze by now. Let’s go find out.”
Praying in silence, Cherris walked beside him, fear evident in her face.
The commanders hustled past them to get into position, exiting through the back door into the overcast daylight. Blague and Cherris made their way over to Lesh, who appeared tranquil with her arms folded, her eyes fixated on the nearest ship.
“Don’t shoot, sweetheart,” Lesh’s radio went off.
“I can see that Southern idiot from here.”
“Stand down!” Blague immediately shouted.
Drino motioned for his fighters to withdraw their weapons. He marched along to the shoreline, his stomps audible on the rock pathway, eyes still fixed on the large trade ships throwing down anchors. “He could be under duress. I’m not stopping until I see him clearly.”
The workers were laying down ramps in a seamless fashion, as if they’d done it a thousand times before. It was looking more and more like this crew was legitimate.
“How the hell did he pull this off?” Lesh said in awe, falling in stride with Cherris, Blague and Drino.
“Could it be a stroke of luck? A fleet of trade ships for the Sins?” Cherris asked.
“It looks to me like Morn may have gotten revenge on our traitor,” Lesh presumed.
Morn hopped on to the wooden board and trekked down to the rocky road. “I reckon we got ourselves a trade fleet!” he said with excitement, looking upon the large group of fighters making their way toward him.
Drino finally relaxed when he saw that the man was all smiles. But Cherris, on the other hand, looked like she’d just been stabbed in the heart. No boy. No Milos. The sight of Morn’s face just renewed her despair of the child’s grim fate.
“No,” she whispered, remembering Lesh shaking her head when she’d returned. Surely, she would have checked all the land and sea… the most thorough assassin on a battlefield. “Just a child, left alone. He shouldn’t have been alone. Damn you Lesh.”
Her lips curved in, she bit them, holding back tears that wouldn’t stay put.
“Naw, c’mon Cherris, don’t give me none of that,” Morn spoke as Victor trailed behind him. “These ships ain’t the only thing I came back with!”
Cherris sniffed, her anguish curtailed. Had she heard him correctly? What could he possibly mean? “No… don’t get your hopes up,” she muttered to herself, adjusting her shawl to keep her hands busy. Anything to get out of there, run to her wagon, so she could mourn in peace.
Even Lesh furrowed her brow with intrigue. She wasn’t much for drama, and didn’t appreciate the long silence that Morn kept them in after his cryptic words. It seemed, however, that he was enjoying it very much. Like a surprise party about to be unveiled.
Morn whistled. “C’mon boy!” he yelled to Milos, who was already mounting the platform.
To hear the clink of Milos’ severed chains rattling made Cherris’ eyes instantly fill with tears. The good kind. Because she could recognize that sound anywhere. It was one of her kids after all. She swore an oath to herself the day trauma befell him, and to have another chance at being the boy’s guardian, to know that God’s plan for her wasn’t all dread, it lifted her like two angels to make her weightless.
The child she thought she’d lost hopped over the siding and darted between the rocks effortlessly. He was well. Unharmed. A miracle.
Lesh fought every muscle in her face not to let a proud smile show, while Cherris gently knelt down and opened her arms, inviting him in for a hug. The shawl draped over her neck blanketed the boy when he walked into her embrace.
“Oh, words can’t describe how happy I am to see that you’re safe.” Cherris broke her hug to admire the boy’s face.
Milos grinned. “Lesh taught me how to survive,” he said confidently. “I’m happy to see you, too.”
The matriarch kept a hand on his shoulder while they turned to Lesh, who was staring down at the kid with her fierce, darkly framed eyes, working to reignite the terror she’d instilled in him.
“Lesh,” Cherris said, wiping her tears. “I owe you a grand apology. I’ve underestimated your skill for the last time.”
“Consider it forgotten.”
Cherris released her grip so Milos could reunite with his teacher.
“What took you?” Lesh asked, peering down at the boy.
“You know I don’t like water,” Milos bantered.
That did it. A perfect response to make a stone-hearted woman lose control and finally break into a grin. Then both heads turned to Morn beckoning them.
“I know what you did for me back there, sweetheart. I won’t ever forget that,” Morn spoke lowly to Lesh in passing.
Lesh only nodded back.
He smirked, taking her silence as her own form of thanks for bringing the boy home, knowing she would never speak of it.
> A brief time to rejoice was in order. It wasn’t every day that news contained a vial of hope for the Sins. But it did come… this time in the form of Morn’s new fleet, the return of a beloved boy, and to top it off, Lito was on his way home. A small win worth its weight in silver.
Warm winds caressed those waiting atop the mansion’s roof, stroking them, telling them with whispers in their ears that everything would be alright. Sabin scratched the scruff of his wolf in high spirits, Cherris sat with two boys who excitedly exchanged stories from their time apart, and even Eugene remained close by for some reason, albeit annoyed and with no shortage of sighs, but he was present nonetheless.
Then there was Blague - at ease, stoic, with arms resting over the ledge while gazing south, waiting for the clouds to part and let through the stealth jet.
“You ready, or what? You ready? Or what?” Sabin repeated.
Bothered, Eugene looked down from the corner of his eye. “Who are you tal-, oh,” he held off, watching Sabin rustle Mars’ fur.
“We’re going to make friends with our people, the Templos,” he said to the beautiful wolf.
Mars barked back in excitement.
“No, Mars, we’re not going to punch Eugene in the balls.” Sabin looked up at his fellow commander with a smile.
Blague erupted into laughter, and even Eugene cracked a smile.
Sabin stood up and said, “How about that jewelry salesman Lesh brought on board? He’s moving up in the world, huh?”
“Someone sounds jealous,” Eugene teased.
“Morn brought with him food that the exiled haven’t tasted in decades. He will be honored for such an achievement, as will this guy.” Blague nodded at the jet materializing from the clouds.
The sleek aircraft slowed on its pass overhead, extending down hydraulic pads like a trio of complex pogo sticks to brace for vertical landing. Thrusters flickered before the craft stilled in place, and out spat a sloped platform like a giraffe’s tongue, locking its joints straight to reveal a slender shadow posing atop it. Lito was uncovered by the light. He casually galloped down the ramp, applauded by the sound of kids happily cheering his name.