Chapter XXVI: Piloto

A Chapter by Oran

Defibrillators require a large amount of voltage, which would probably cause Quinholm to bust its internal generator when it's fed with too much electricity. Apparently, some idiot with blonde hair got stabbed yesterday and they had to defibrilate him to keep the blood pumping in his vessels after they bandaged his wounds with cloth made of [1]Seedspitter thread. Quite a pain-in-the-a*s for the mechanic, if you ask me.

His name is Elias. A man in his early twenty's even though he's only 19. He grew up a little too fast, and before he knew it, he was a repairman for the Alkalde. Today he is recuperating the distorted wires that are connected to the town's main power chord while mumbling about life's restless hardships during employment.

"Why do these guys throw parties if they can't even afford the standard A.C. gen?"

The room was dark; he only had a small spotlight from the bulb on his battery-powered lamp. His face was so greasy and sweaty that he felt like flashing into cinders any moment now. You see, he's the only one in town who really knows how to work this thing because he's the one who designed and engineered it. He got all the credit after that -even if it's made out of scraps- but since the town had other plans for it's mineral deposits, they had no money to spare for him. On top of that, he has to drag-a*s at least once a week just to maintain the machine. He thought he would enjoy the title he had as mechanic, but it was too late for him before he could find out how horribly, horribly wrong he was. Elias was forced to do things he was more than capable of, but less than motivated to.

"That should do it", he says as he lousily shuts the grate that covers the tangled wires.

"Hey, Eli!", a girl bursts through the door, spilling the early morning, 6:00 AM, R.W.T. sunlight through the mucky and rustic facility that connects the network of wires on the settlement.

"Unless it's my paycheck, tell him to go bl*w himself."

Is he talking about his boss?

"Figured you'd say that."

"What are you doing here?", he asks without looking as he arranges his toolbox.

"Trying to persuade you."

As she says this, she leans closer, enough for her orange apron to caress his back. Then, ever so slowly, she kisses his cheek.

No response... at all.

"Hmm... I thought that would work."

"I'm not into incest." He tucks his pipe wrench on his back pocket. "Could you let me... 'Go in peace' now?' That guy's got no pardon for me on my day-off."

"Hey, that guy feeds you and me, you know?"

"Taking crap from him wasn't part of my job description, Maise."

Giving up, she parts from him and proceeds out.

"Oh, well", she says, "He also said something about your airship, but I don't think you take any of that crap, do you?"

"My airship?"

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"Mr. Dewitt. I hope you've had no trouble fixing that outage", starts the Alkalde.

"Spare the pleasantries. What do you need me for?"

"I'll get straight to the point then...."

The Alkalde was a nicely built man in his mid-forty's. He had wrinkles in his face, deep-set eyes, and a wavy mustache that made him look more Spanish than Mexican.

"I have caught wind of one of your recent projects." He stands from his seat and flattens his palms on his Narra wooden desk. "You said you needed a power source?"

"I'm listening", he crosses his arms.

"Me and my colleagues from the Flock Wars were able to procure a small supply of pure energy from King Swain's secret stash. Believe it or not, this substance, as small as it is, can power Borealis City for supposedly ten years."

"Do you have it with you?"

A fancy grin forms on his face that mocks Elias.

"It all depends on whether you'll comply to my request."

"Which is?"

Yup. He took the bait.

"You'll be accompanying my guests to the destination of their choosing. After that, you may keep what's left as your fuel. Simple, no?"

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, Mr. Dewitt. I just wanted my name in history. After all, it is written by the victor."

"Then show me."

The Alkalde motions his eyes toward the mirror to the left of Elias. He grabs his greasy pipe wrench that he hasn't cleaned for months and treads toward his reflection.

"May I?"

The mayor gestures with his left hand in agreement.

Elias swings backward, then bashes the crisped surface of the mirror harder than [2]Adrian Shepherd ever could, scattering the molecules of the solid crystal as a finesse. As the glass shatters, a small nook appears to have been contained by its structure. And within the small corner sits a glass sphere encasing a floating shard that illuminates the place on a pedestal with a dull, blue glow. It seems to be kept afloat by two magnets [2]Opposing Forces due to opposite polarities.

"What's it called?"

"Cryxylum."

He was about to take the item, but then he hesitated.

"I... wanna see who my passengers are first."

"By all means, Mr. Dewitt", he heads for the door. "Come now, we have much to discuss about that."

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1. A plant-like monster that can be found in Artix Entertainment games.

2. Main protagonist of Half-Life: Opposing Force whose melee weapon consists of a pipe-wrench.

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