A Civil Disagreement

Nero thinks on his feet while meeting the stone with his face....

A Civil Disagreement

The spring season brought chill winds and beautiful flowers to Bayside, with the colorful city of masonry filled with denizens both common and rare. Of the four quadrants housed within the circular city wall, the Civil District was by far the worst to live in. Fun to visit on occasion for some, though many of weak constitution and too much gold in their pocket are known to succumb to the lights, sex, and recreational substances that fill the neon streets.

As one would normally do in the broad daylight of the Civil District, Nero found himself sitting on a bench in a rough neighborhood, waiting on a drug dealer

A local custom of such a seedy district.

Hands buried in his dark wool jacket, a cigarette hung from his lips. Nero let out a puff of smoke through his nose, the human doing his best impersonation of a dragon.

He reached up from his jacket, lowering his cigarette as he let out a flume of smoke through his nostrils once more, eyes trained on the street to his left. To his right was another. It was a strange spot for a park, between two buildings with no grass. In the center was a stone planter full of native flowers to Bayside, with the backs of benches surrounding it. A local art piece was on display that Nero failed to identify. It looked like a turtle-folk of some kind. Standing tall and proud, holding an unknown denizen on their shoulder. Some kind of statue honoring a large donation for the “park” probably. If you could call a small lot squished between two stone buildings and no grass a park. The masonry was nice, at least. Most of the buildings in the civil district were dilapidated hovels thrown together.

But this part of the district? Nothing other than warehouses, office buildings, and a few vacant homes with little hope of finding homeowners. Shattered glass and broken windows reflected the neon display that pulsed from the streetlights. A rainbow effect, with a magic that induced those within its range to…. Just relax. Of all the magic that could have been used to help the district function, the best the they could come up with on such short notice was to enchant the lights. A sort of counter measure after an incident erupted about a week ago. It was a rather messy affair, but Nero considered the upside of that night. Legislation was quickly passed to at least do something about the awful conditions.

The magic of the lights were potent. Those under their influence, according to the official statement from the Transvollian Council, made denizens “Just relax.”

Day or night, they were always on.

It was a rather strange campaign. Nero considered this, taking one last drag before finishing what was left of his cigarette. He ran the lit cherry of what was left of it on the stone flooring of the “park” nestled between the buildings of stone and busy streets. As he did so, Nero glanced upward towards one of the windows, seeing a dog-folk in a jumpsuit. He was mopping, or at least was until he was caught zoning out on the job, using his mop to prop him upward as he leaned.

The dog-folk in question also seemed to be under the effects of the neon lights, even inside the building. The ‘folk was holding onto their mop, half awake, zoning out as they continued to gaze out the window. Nero offered a smile and a wave. The dog-folk mopping wagged their tail, snapping to attention. Although they appeared somewhat embarrassed, the dog-folk in the blue jumpsuit seemed to be laughing at himself from the second story window, waving back to Nero.

“Maybe it’s an office building?” Nero muttered to himself with his smile remaining, smoke escaping his lips as he thought aloud, watching the dog-folk wander out of sight with mop still in hand. “Maybe it’s some sort of….”

Nero let out a massive yawn, blinking his eyes.

What was he saying?…..

From what Nero gathered from social media, it was almost impossible to fire a gun in the Civil District with the street lights. Constantly transmitting pretty rainbow colors and a steady stream of magic.

Nero shuttered, reaching for his pack of smokes in his jacket. Whatever the full extent of the magic lights, they made him want to smoke more. Aside from being unable to use a gun, the lights made it almost impossible to use magic in the district. The only thing that seemed to still be on the table was swinging your fist. It took a little will power to break through the effects of the magic light, but those wise enough were able to wiggle past it.

Nero waited even longer, finishing two more cigarettes before he caught sight of his contact.

It was a human, with blond hair. They were the pale kind, like Nero was. Their eyes also matched Nero’s: a pale blue infused with a sparkle of magic energy. The drug dealer was dressed in a black hoodie and matching thick pants. Big black boots also adorned the denizen who tried to hide their face within their own hood. He had a big mouth, and a tiny nose.

He matched the pictures Nero had seen.

“Heyo,” Nero offered, giving a wave of his hand.

“A little cold out today,” the human in the hoodie humored, looking left and right. He tried to blend in a little too hard, making him stick out like a sore thumb. Nero looked to the street on the right from the bench he sat on, seeing two denizens standing on the corner of the street. Working girls, trying to make some gold. It took everything in Nero not to roll his eyes.

Who is this dude kidding? Nero thought. Nobody gives a s**t here.

“Yeah, it’s a little cold for the spring season,” Nero nodded, pulling out a wad of cash from his jacket. He made sure the human saw it. “Heard your name is Paul, right?”

The human nodded a little.

“You’re Nero?” he whispered, again looking all around. One of the working girls on the street behind him was picked up by a blue sedan, which peeled out with screeching tires.

“I am,” Nero spoke, moving his eyes back to Paul. “I’m not trying to beat around the bush. I’m looking for some pale.”

“Pale,” the human dealer nodded. “I got pale.”

“Cool,” Nero muttered. “I’ll take whatever this will get me.”

Nero, as smooth as a hippo-folk covered in baby oil and butter, slipped a gold colored wad of bills into Paul’s hand.

There as a certain shimmer that covered his pale eyes, with no expression left. Nero raised his hand, snapping his fingers in front of Paul’s face. No reaction. He pulled down his hood, showing his mess of blond hair. Still, nothing. With a slight smirk, Nero reached into the hoodie pocket, pulling out a massive bag of white leaves. His smile grew.

“So here’s the thing, Paul,” Nero spoke, stuffing the clear bag into his own coat. “I don’t really have a problem with you peddling Pale Leaf. I do have a problem with you robbing homes at night and stabbing a lady who didn’t do you any harm. She just so happened to put a bounty on your a*s.”

Paul remained emotionless.

“You go ahead and hold onto that,” Nero spoke. “Stuff your hands in your hoodie.”

At his command, Paul listened. His hands, fingers still gripping the wad of enchanted bills, were stowed into his front hoodie pocket. Nero began to walk towards the road on his left, whistling.

“Follow me, Paul,” Nero spoke, making sure his voice was clear and his tone was even. Sometimes charm spells required clarity; it was the nature of the magic Nero decided to employ that afternoon. He walked, with Paul not far behind him, eyes glossed over as the magic kept its hold over the wanted criminal.

A yellow truck pulled up along the road ahead of Nero, in return slowing his pace, still in the stone park. He came to a stop, watching as three denizens pulled out of the ride. There was a skinny looking swine-folk, an exhausted looking crow-folk, and another human who had red, curly hair. The curls were tight, and the eyes were an emerald green. All three denizens were dressed in suits. Typical gangster attire in these parts.

“Where ya goin’?” the human in the wrinkled suit questioned Nero. Paul said nothing, of course, but Nero stepped up to do the talking for the two of them.

“Oh, you know,” Nero shrugged, reaching into his jacket. “Just minding my own f****n’ business.”

“Yeah?” The human with the red curly hair continued, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t really fault you for that, can I?”

Nero said nothing, eyes moving to the swing-folk. He watched as the denizen fish around a front pocket, pulling out and unwrapping a sucker. With haste, he chomped down on it, letting out a grunt.

“I’m already tired of talking….” the swine sighed. “With these damn lights….”

“Tell me about it….” the crow-folk yawned. “I haven’t slept in days.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” the human with the curly hair assured his feathered friend, turning to look over his shoulder, hands buried in his suit pants pockets. It wasn’t long before he fished out a lighter, motioning to Nero. “Hey, kid, you mind if I bum one of those cigs?”

“Be my guest,” Nero spoke, pulling out his pack. He tossed it to the fellow human, who caught it with grace. Although he almost didn’t, the human with the red curls dove a bit, remaining on both feet as their back lowered to the stone walkway of the “park”. With two fingers, he managed to catch the cigarette Nero tossed before it hit the ground.

“Nice,” Nero mused.

The human with the red curls offered a playful bow, as if to thank him for the complement.

“For your information, Rayin,” the crow-folk spoke up, watching their friend light the cigarette Nero offered, “It is that bad when you’ve got four kids and a b***h of a wife who won’t stop jumping down your throat.”

“I thought you two were going to get therapy together….” the swine-folk yawned.

“We are, Jerry!” the crow-folk snapped back at his associate.

Nero watched this back and forth for a while.

“You’re such a drama queen, Earl,” human in the group mocked his avian friend, taking another drag. The black feathers on his arms seemed to stand up a bit at that remark.

“You’re single,” the crow-folk snipped back once more.

Paul remained silent in Nero’s company, with Nero himself muttering under his breath, trying to get names right.

Jerry is the swine-folk…

Earl is the crow folk….

Rayin is the human….

Did he get all that right?….

“Rayin, is it?” Nero called out.

That got his attention, with the other two denizens shutting up.

“I’m bringing this denizen to the guard station,” Nero continued. “You’re getting in the way of that. I’m really trying to to be nice right now and-”

With a sparkle behind the eyes, Rayin the human pulled out a switchblade, flicking it open. He took a step towards Nero.

“By all means, go ahead and stop us before we have a chance to talk,” Rayin chuckled, his red curls bouncing a little as he did so. His other hand moved to his tie, adjusting it as he took yet another step towards Nero. “I mean, I could just cut you now.”

“Is this a robbery?” Nero asked.

“Not quite,” Rayin chortled. “Well, I will be taking everything you own. And Paul, here. Not sure who you are or what you want with him, stranger, but you picked a bad time. Paul here owns me money. Afraid you’re not taking him before we get our money’s worth out of his sorry a*s. Ha!”

Rayin’s laugh at the end of his little speech somehow annoyed Nero more than the his grating, juvenile voice.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Nero commented, lighting up another cigarette. He had lost count at that point, and his throat felt like sandpaper.

“Guess I’m just gonna have to cut you up into p-” Rayin began to monologue, only to be cut short by Nero’s foot jousting his chin. The force of the high-kick to the face sent Rayin a solid two feet off the gound before slamming back onto stone, cigarette flying from his lips. He let out a groan, with his switchblade still gripped in his hand. Seeing this, Jerry the swine-folk stepped forward, pulling out a pair of brass knuckles from their suit blazer.

“I’m gonna make you bleed for humiliating my boss like that,” Jerrry spoke, eyes locked on Nero’s raised fists and fighting stance. He slid the brass knuckles over his thick fingers, cracking his neck as you marched his way to Nero.

Rayin was still laying on the ground, half sitting up, holding his jaw.

Earl the crow-folk was just leaning on the side of the truck, watching this unfold, letting out another tired yawn.

And as for Paul?

He just sorta stood there. Arms at his side. Peering into the void with glassy eyes.

Once Jerry was in reaching distance, Nero pulled back his fist. Without missing a beat, Jerry lifted his arms to block the punch. However, there was no punch. Instead of a swing, Nero snapped into a backwards spin, his foot once again gracing the face of a denizen that night. Jerry did a full spin before stumbling face-first into the nearby flower planter in the park.

“You two really need to work on your form,” Earl mentioned, pushing off from the truck he leaned against, marching his way past his wounded friends towards Nero.

With a jab, Nero went for the crow-folks face, only for his foe to bob to the right. With a slap to the back of his head, Nero saw a black feather flutter before his face. In a daze, all Nero could perceive was the sharp pain of a knee meeting his groin, knocking the wind out of him. He fell backwards, holding his crotch in agony.

The three mystery denizens gathered themselves, with Rayin dusting off his blazer.

“F*****g amateur,” the Rayin spat.

“Says you,” Earl mocked with a roll of his black eyes.

“Shut up,” Jerry grunted. “Both of you! Let’s just take what this guy has and-”

“Paul….” Nero wheezed, interrupting Jerry the swine-folk. The three gangster denizens looked at the wounded human laying on the ground.

“The f**k did you say?” Jerry yelled at Nero, puffing out his chest, despite the fact that Nero’s face was pressed against the stone walkway of the park.

“….Kick their a*s.”

Having stood at the ready, without movement or sound, Paul lifted both firsts.

“I will kick their a*s….” he muttered, continuing to hold a fighting stance.

“The hell is this?….” Earl asked, scratching his feathered head.

Paul jabbed a first forward, slamming his knuckles against the side of his beak. Following through with the punch, Paul offered another, upper-cutting the crow-folk beneath the beak, knocking his head back. Taking a single step back, Earl dropped like a pillowcase filled with gems. When he hit the ground, his legs flopped into the air, eyes unfocused.

Nero pulled himself to his feet, just in time to see Paul grace Jerry with a flying knee. With Paul’s knee driving into Jerry’s gut, the swine-folk folded forward. With a strong, unforgiving backhand, Paul slapped Jerry across the face, sending him to the ground. He was out like a light.

Rayin managed to scramble to his feet, raising his switchblade towards Paul, still deep within a trance.

“You stay the f**k away!” Rayin demanded.

Nero, moving up behind him, wrapped his arm around his neck, hand gripping the wrist holding the knife.

“Drop it or I snack your neck,” Nero warned. “I’m not kidding.”

Paul, still following orders, drove a haymaker into Rayin’s face. The human let out a horrible noise, with crimson flowing down from his broken noise. As Paul pulled his fist for another blow, Nero raised his hand.

“Stop fighting!” Nero demanded.

Paul stopped, inches from landing another punch. Rayin whimpered, flinching as he avoided another blow. His switchblade dropped to his feet.

“I surrender!” He whimpered in the weakest voice possible, struggling to speak over the sound of his own blood. “I surrender! Please don’t kill me!”

“Hey!” Nero demanded, shaking the battered human with the red curls by the shoulders. “Enough!”

“Mommy, please….” the red head begged in a dazed panic. “Mommy please don’t let him kill me, please, mommy pleeease….”

The bloodied human begged for his life, with Nero feeling a chill run down his spine. Another sensation came over him, which he accepted. A hand. A spirit. Someone, or some thing, being by their own kin that begged for their life. Nero continued to feel the chill of whatever spirit came to Rayin’s aid.

Nero let out a sigh of guilt, releasing his grip of the red head.

“Don’t move,” Nero demanded. Of course, Rayin did not. He was terrified, and in pain, still whimpering, asking for his mother. Whoever that might have been to him. The two other denizens were still out cold, not moving. For a second, Nero was worried he accidentally killed them. But seeing them breathe allowed him to do the same.

Reaching for a protected pouch latched on his left side, Nero pulled out a small glass bottle, filled with a red fluid. It sloshed about, with a red sparkle of glorious light running along the edge of the glass, as if begging to be free. Nero uncorked the potion, reaching out for Rayin’s head. He pulled away in fear.

“Wait,” Nero sighed. “Just, wait, okay?”

Rayin didn’t move, though shook a little when Nero instructed him to lean his head back.

“But I can’t…. breathe….” Rayine whimpered, having to lower their head, Nero pulling the uncorked potion back from his mouth. Unable to control his crying, or his breathing, Rayine sobbed, coughing blood onto the stone beneath him. His legs grew weak, lowering onto the ground with Nero still holding onto him.

“I’m so sorry, mommy….” Rayin cried. Nero felt a tug on his heart strings.

Denizens always like to talk tough. But nobody talks about how they react to pain. Awful pain. The kind that makes you question whether you want to live or not. And from the battered sight of Rayin’s face, Nero couldn’t help but feel terrible. Poor kid couldn’t have been older than 18.

“I know it’s hard to breathe when you pull your head back,” Nero sighed, feeling guilt overcome him. “Look, just do it, quick, okay. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

“….Promise.”

“Hey, I promise,” Nero said, eyes getting a little watery, seeing how mangled human’s face was. “Damn it, kid, you shouldn’t have pulled a stunt like this….”

“I’m so sorry….” Rayin repeated.

“Just, hold still, okay?” Nero said, taking a deep breath. “Real quick. We’re gonna down it. Don’t think about the blood running down the back of your throat. After a quick drink, you’ll be good as new. I need you to be strong, okay?”

“Okaaay….” Rayin whimpered.

Nero held Rayin’s head, carefully pulling it back for him, putting the potion in his mouth. Some of it dribbled down the side of his mouth, but almost all of it went down. Nero lifted Rayne’s head back up as the two of them continued to sit there on the stone together.

Magic filled Rayin’s body. Within seconds, he was as good as knew.

Rayin gasped for air, placing both hands on his chest. He panted, looking to Nero, like a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Nero was already standing by that point, instructing Rayin to do the same. Once more, Nero lit a cigarette, hacking a little as he did so.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Nero spoke, looking Rayin dead in the eye while taking a long drag of his smoke. The silence was heavy, with the sound of Rayin’s heart pounding in his own ears. But then, Nero continued. “I’m taking that truck you got. My old ride, well, it’s a bit beyond repair. I’m taking Paul here with me. I dunno what kind of deal you had before, but it’s done now. He’s going bye-bye. Locked up. Understand?”

Rayine nodded.

“Clean out of here and take your friends with you,” Nero said. “I take it you’re not short on gold?”

“N-no….” Rayine answered, with Nero reaching into his jacket pocket, pulling out the single, card-like key. Nero grinned, taking it.

“Then I don’t feel too bad about claiming your ride. Here.”

Rayin flinched when Nero tossed two moire potion vials into the air, with Rayin almost dropping one of them. Again, he was graceful with his catch.

“For your boys,” Nero mentioned, making his way to his new ride. “Consider it a fair trade for the truck. Come on, Paul.”

Nero hollered his command to Paul, who followed.

He opened the door for Paul, who moved into the passenger seat without question. Nero made his way to the driver side, motioning the key-card across the door. The engine revved alive when he did the same to the panel near the wheel.

With a final wave of his hand out the window, Nero drove off, making his way to the Transvollia Loop freeway in the city to collect his payment after a job well done.

With a new truck, a bounty by his side, and a coat full of Pale Leaf, Nero happily turned on the radio, bobbing alone to a pop song that had making the waves that chilly spring season.

Local reports suggest that the rise of Pale Leaf sales over the past week have been both unexpected and alarming. Although many scientists and religious figures alike have stressed both the benefits as well as lack of harm reported in 141 independent studies, the Transvollia council has continued to enforce the ban of Pale Leaf. Doctors all over Itsa have made casual mention that any and all negative side effects of Pale Leaf are easy to remove or negate. These comments have gone largely unheard.

There has also been scattered reports of a fight that happened in a park in the Civil District prior to these spike in Pale Leaf sales. Aside from two witness accounts of a yellow truck blasting music along the freeway, nothing else came of that fateful day in Bayside.

Author's Note

This story is loosely weaved with the others in this "book" project. If you're curious to know more about Nero, Bayside, and the strange world it takes place in, check out the other stories. Each sequential chapter weaves together a larger tale, though each story can be read on their own independently. Read "An Introduction" within this book for more details.

Reviews

[living lavender]

i can never tell what the meanings are behind each chapter title.
but once i begin diving into the story...they all makes sense. perfectly.

great add - always excited to see what new *blank*-like denizens appear.
favorite line: "as smooth as a hippo-folk covered in baby oil and butter"
{as always. great visual. lol.}

[Kane Hagwood]

I knew going into this project that it was best not to set any expectations for how it was received, or if anyone would read it at all. Although it was never a requirement, hearing someone voice interest and actual value from it really is a nice bonus I wasn't expecting :)

And I'm glad you liked that line! I felt like it wouldn't be a Nero story without a ridiculous metaphor. It's supposed to show HIS thoughts mixed with the narrative. Like, he's not the one telling the story, but he's having an impact on it.

And as for the titles, thank you! They're not always as creative as I'd like, but this title felt like it wrote itself haha.

Thanks for the review and kindness, Lav :)