Part 1: Viisi. Chapter 1: Platform 5

Chapter to Tunnels.

Part 1: Viisi;
Chapter I: Platform 5.
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Footfalls faintly echoed throughout the tunnels.  Ricocheting off arches, vibrating off bricks, stone, and cement alike.

This world was different.  This world wasn't happy, wasn't what was considered to be the "norm."  This world was cruel, cold, sad, and maddening.  This world was darkness.  Shadows overlapped shadows.  Hushed whispers dodged around silence.  Train cars roared down the tracks.

No, this world was most certainly not the "norm." this world was far from it. For, if it was indeed "norm," where were the parks, the open land, the trees? In the land Above. Where was the sunlight? High above what laid in Above. Where were the frolicking, happy-go-lucky children? Climbing in trees in Above.

This land, these tunnels, were not meant to be; the government never intended for civilization to weasel its way, quite literally, beneath it. The government never thought, never believed, that there could possibly be any species that could survive down so deep in the depths of the earth. The government thought wrong. The government underestimated humanity's will to live. The government, the government.

Another shuttle roared down the tracks, leaving nothing but the ill minded humans to eat its dust in its mad dash to the next port.

Blood speckled the cobblestoned earth. Bloodshed was blood earned. And blood earned was a higher rank. And those who lived down under, in the Below, were power hungry, just like humanity started off as.

Here, death was the "norm," as opposed to the happy-go-lucky-everything-is-just-fine Abovers. Where the Abovers thrived, their minds were twisted. And anyone with a twisted mind was not natural; a biological pollutant secretly shoved into pregnant women's food.

The government, oh the government. How they thrived for order, for control over a world of chaos, a world of power, of hate, of greed. Though they were obviously never were going to be able to control all 7 continents in its wake, they still tried. Still killed innocents who just happened to be in their way. Still encouraged their dictator. Still overlooked the fact that humans could create existence below the rocks. Still pushed troublemakers, those who rebelled-who saw through the fake mask of happiness and saw into the rotten core of it-into torture cells in remote places across their kingdom.

Which is ironic; trying to get rid of the "trouble makers," in a world that will always be full of chaos. A wasted effort on their part, certainly.

The warm lights, white hospital lights merged with heat lamps, glowed down onto the civilization below, creating false mirrors of hope. Nothing hope filled could come from warm lights. They were too bright, too hospital like, too like the Above to count for anything besides an everlasting source of heat for thousands of overlooked escapees.

The sun was a common thing missed among the Belowers. It was a luxury not seen in centuries. Only the brave saw the sun. And there were not many brave humans in a society of cold, cruel, angry, power-hungry, untampered with, natural humans. Most stayed glued to the small shacks of stone glued to the cold tunnel walls. Most lived in fear. Fear of a government invasion. Fear that someone with an Above mind got through and tried to start an uprising. Fear of bloodshed. Fear of disease. Fear of becoming mad. Fear of the truth about the Below becoming widespread and well know. Fear of fear. Everyone here lived in fear, all the time.

No one ever spoke of their days in the Above. No one wanted to, nor did they feel the need to. The Above was where they were neglected, overlooked for food, kicked in the stomach while they begged for supplies. The Above was where the doctors "failed," or "forgot," to surge the chemicals with pregnancy vitamins for select mothers all across the globe; an experiment to see if humanity was ready  to stop the unnatural, biological changes they were surging into unknowing humans. And the answer they got to that was over whelming; a screech of  "no," echoing in their ears. The government didn't want anyone to start coming up with ideas as to why the people that cause such damage did what they did.

The government wanted their world to be left in the dark. The ruler wanted his planet to all be one, and so it was. But, yet, it still wasn't as he planned. The ruler, the President, wanted everyone to be in a false state of happiness. He wanted the humans to be oblivious to all evil other than himself. He wanted to change human nature. One pill at a time per baby.

But the President never anticipated his experiments to backfire, to escape, to live.  He had figured that they’d all waste away after fighting to the death with one another.  He figured that they’d starve.  He didn’t expect them to form their own society beneath him.  And it was all everyone in the Below could do to keep their land a secret.  The Below was a secret that they would protect with their lives.

A rumbling deep within the tunnels started once more, another shuttle car roared down the tracks, but this time, only to be stopped at Platform 13 where a lone boy was waiting for its halt.

He looked up, of course, when he heard the rumbling, like any other human would do.  But instead of boarding the shuttle immediately, he stood and stared at it for a few moments in wonder.  He had never been on a shuttle before; he had only just become part of the Below, and to be honest, he was quite frightened of the giant metal caterpillar-looking train. 

After a few more moments, he threw on a careless smirk and boarded the shuttle, turning his back on Platform 13, the least busy port in the entire society.

The automatic doors closed once they sensed his presence inside the car, and the shuttle only waited five seconds before lurching forward towards its next port: Platform 12. 

The boy staggered when the shuttle started up again, but regained his posture, and slipped into the empty seat in the far back of the shuttle. 

As he slunk down in the polyester seat, he began to wonder: what was in Platform 12, why there were so many people on the shuttle, what was so wrong with Platform 13 that nearly no one stood on its cobblestone ground?  So many questions bounced around his mind that he had to shake his head rather forcefully in order to regain control of his thoughts.

He looked out the shuttle windows and saw only the blur of the tunnels as the train cars moved over 100 mph.  It made him slightly sick, so without hesitation, he snapped his eyes in front of him instead.

He stared uncomprehendingly at the electronic back of the seat in front of him.  What was that thing?  A square metal and glass frame seemed to be drilled onto the back of the seat. 

He touched it, and the glass inside the metal frame seemed to glow to life.  Electric blue light flowed from the words written on it: BELOW MAP.  Huh, so this was how he was going to figure things out.  Strange, this world was.  Of course it was much better than Above, where he was treated like dirt, but it was odd.  Such odd technology it held.

He read the buttons, Districts, Ports, Shuttle Routes and Times, before settling on Shuttle Routes and Times; he needed to know how much time he had left to make his decision as to where he was heading.

Clicking the bright blue Shuttle Routes and Times, he quickly scanned through the words until he found that he only had 20 minutes, possibly less since it took him so long to figure out how to use the technology, to make his decision.  He would be in Platform 12 soon.

He shook his head and navigated to the main screen.   Districts, he clicked on; he needed to know what was beyond Platform 12. 

He scanned through the reading until he found himself at the point where the literature mentioned Platform 12.  Beyond Platform 12 holds the lovely Below district of Tolv.  Tolv was founded several years ago when a Norwegian survivor of “The Extermination of The Cured,” stumbled upon this particular area of The Below.   He felt that it was too perfect not to be inhabited, and set forth in plans for making Tolv the biggest, and most popular city in The Below.  The glass map read.

Biggest city, eh?  That may be just the place he needed to be.

“Where you heading?” a small voice to his right chimed, causing him to jump: he hadn’t noticed he’d received company, he’d been too caught up in the map to notice anything but.

“Tolv.” He answered hesitantly.  Who was this stranger?

“Tolv?  Why?  That place is so huge.  You’re gonna get lost, I bet.” The voice muttered.

“Really?  You think I’m going to get lost.  Listen, I’m touched that you care enough to warn me, but I think that I can handle myself, thank you very much.” He replied sharply, turning to face the stranger.

It was a boy talking to him, he noticed.  A boy no older than about fifteen.  He had long, sandy blonde hair that swooped into his face like the Above’s “surfer boys” had, and sun kissed freckles that scattered his cheeks lightly.  The only thing wrong and unsettling with his presence was the scar that marred the left side of his face from his jaw bone to the corner of his mouth.

The boy smirked.

“Listen, you.” He noticed the boy had a slight Irish accent to his words, making him seem somehow more unsettling; he must have traveled along way to get to The Below, and fought something awful nasty to receive such a scar.  But at the same time it was strange to come out of his mouth.  “I’m only telling you.  Tolv is the roughest of the districts here.  You seemed new, so I thought that you’d need to know that.  Tolv is where the black-market is, and where all the killing goes on.  I highly doubt you want to be a part of that.  If you were smart, you’d just follow me, and head into Viisi with me.  What’s your name anyway?”

He wasn’t sure whether or not it was smart to reply, but he did it anyway.

“Dexter.” He replied through his teeth; he didn’t want some kid telling him what to do.

“Dexter, ehh?  Got a temper, do ya?  Too bad.  You’re gonna have to learn to live with things here in The Below.  Things here are a lot different than The Above, but I’m sure you figured that out when you saw that map there.” He spat, gesturing to the map on the back of the seat.  “The name’s Conner, by the way, Dex.  How old are you, anyway?  You seem older than the usual run away.”

“Nineteen.” Dexter stated simply.

“Bloody hell.  You have to be the oldest runaway I’ve ever met.  Usually we’re all around sixteen.  But me, I’m fifteen.  Ran away by myself, I did.  Most people come in pairs and barely survive.  Me, I made it here just fine on my own.  Only a few scrapes and scars.” Conner muttered bitterly as he scratched the scar on his face.

“Well I came alone too.  Ran into no one.  Just followed the map Gemma left me.” Dexter told him, smiling slightly at how easy he had it compared to Conner.

“Wait.  This Gemma girl.  Does she have long, dark brown hair?  Bright blue eyes?  Perfect skin; no freckles?”  Conner asked eagerly, he seemed to be on the verge of bouncing in his seat.

“Yeah…” Dexter answered slowly.  “You know her or something?”

“Do I know her?  Bloody hell, everyone knows her.  She’s got to be the most talented inventor The Below has ever seen.  And, she’s in Viisi.” Conner stated, somewhat smugly.  He seemed to know that Dexter was after her, and it only made his suggestion to travel to Viisi with him that much more appealing. 

“Fine.” Dexter admitted quietly. “I’ll go to Viisi with you.  How long is that going to take?”

“Hmm…  Well seeing as we just left the Tizenegy Platform 11 five minutes ago, I’d say that it’s going to take about two hours.  Better get comfy, Dex.  Six platforms to go.” Conner smirked.

“Well, since we have time, I’m going to take a quick nap.  I haven’t slept in says.  Let me know when there’s five minutes till.” Dexter yawned.

“Sure, sure.” Conner agreed.

Dexter nodded and closed his eyes.  He let sleep take over.

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“Oye!  Mate!  Wake up!  We’re almost in Viisi!  This is your five minute warning, Dex.  Get your bloody a*s up!”  a voice boomed through Dexter’s ears.

Who the hell was that?  And why the hell did they have to be so loud?  Dexter just wanted to sleep; he hadn’t slept more than an hour a day on his four day journey to The Below, and he was seriously exhausted.  Whoever was waking him better have a damn good reason as to why he shouldn’t rip their intestines open with his double bladed coltello. 

“Ay, Dex.  I know you wanna sleep; I get that.  But seriously.  The shuttle is going to stop in two minutes for Viisi, and it’s gonna take a long a*s trip back on this shuttle to get there again.  Don’t you wanna see Gemma?  Isn’t she the whole reason why you’re here?” the voice sounded again, poking him in the sides.

Ah, Dexter knew that voice.  That slight Irish accent, the boyish yet gruff sounding voice; he knew Conner.  Unfortunately, he knew him.  Unfortunately.  If it were up to Dexter, he would not know Conner.  If it were up to him, he would be inside the walls of Tolv right now.  If it were up to him, he’d be planning a way to steal some weapons from the weaponry without the lojista noticing.  If the lojista noticed, however, they would surely call the vakter for help, and Dexter would be a dead man walking. 

“Ugh.” Dexter groaned as he opened his eyes; everything was blurred together in most dizzying way possible.

“There we go, Princess.  How was your beauty sleep?” Conner asked, smirking slightly.

Dexter rolled his eyes; his vision sharpening slowly until full shapes were recognizable.

“Quite peaceful, actually.  Thank you for your concern, Prince Charming.” Dexter replied in the same mocking tone as Conner.

“Come on, Dex.  The whistle’s gonna ring in a second, and when it does, we only have two minutes to get off the shuttle.  These things are on a timer since it’s all computer operated, and we need to get through the crowd of Belowers in order to get off.  And that takes some time.  So get up and get your old a*s to the shuttle doors.” Conner demanded with a faint smile of amusement on his face; Dexter’s face must have betrayed some of the nervousness that he felt inside.

“Right.  Sure.  Alright.” Dexter nodded, attempting to fake confidence, but failing miserably.

Conner just smirked again, and shook his head.

“Come on, now.  We need to go.  Follow me, and don’t slow down.  We need to move quickly.  It’s always hard to get off the shuttle in the time limit; that’s why these backseats are virtually empty.” Conner stood up and gestured to the numerous empty seats that littered the back of the shuttle car.

Dexter nodded and stared at a rather strange man with dark blue hair and a rather large nose.  He wore black dress trousers with a bright green button down dress shirt that was all closed up, spare the top four buttons.  He had a loose fitted tie about his neck decorated with a purple extinct cheetah pattern.  Curious, the fashion trends were down here.  That man must have been the twentieth person Dexter had seen with strange colored hair today, and the fortieth person with strange sense in clothing.

At least Conner didn’t dress so strangely.  Then Dexter might have been even more intimidated by the scarred boy.  At least he wore simple dark wash jeans that narrowed along the leg to his ankle-in the Above, Dexter believed they were called “skinny jeans,”-that were strangely a few inches below his waste, held up only by a silver studded belt, showing off a pair of checkered blue and green boxers, and a plain teal V-neck t-shirt.  His apparel was similar to those of the Above.  Similar to his old home.

But then again, maybe it would have been better if Conner did dress in the strange way all the others were dressed in.  Maybe then both of them wouldn’t stick out so much.  Maybe then he’d be easier to trust because then, he’d look like the others.  Not like such an outcast.

But for whatever the reason Conner was dressed in such a manor, Dexter didn’t care at the moment.  He was too preoccupied think about other things, like how he was going to get off the huge shuttle car in two minutes while the other passengers milled in the way.

“Come on, Dex.  Day dream much?” Conner asked as he grabbed Dexter’s arm and led him up the long isle.

“The whistle’s gonna ring soon.  We need to get our bloody asses off this train as soon as it rings.  I’ve been out too long as it is.  I was supposed to be back in Viisi an hour ago, but then you had to take so f*****g long to get your a*s onto Platform 13 in the first place.  You coulda made the first two shuttles of the day if you hadn’t milled around in Tretten all damn day…” Conner’s voice faded to almost a nonexistent murmur and Dexter was having trouble figuring out what Conner was talking about.  Was he talking about him?  He couldn’t be sure; Conner was talking too fast and too quiet for him to understand.  He almost seemed to be talking to himself. 

“What?” Dexter asked, confused as to what Conner was mumbling about.

“Nothing, Dex.  Never mind me.  Just focus on the people around you and where the hell you’re going.  Got it?” Conner demanded sharply, his grip on Dexter’s wrist tightening slightly, as if to make sure he didn’t run off.

“Sure.” Dexter nodded coolly; he didn’t feel like coming up with some smartass comment regarding how Conner, a mere adolescent teenager, was treating him as if he were a child being dragged away from a sweets  display.

“Alright, we’re at the shuttle doors.  Looks to be only a few people getting off in Viisi today.  You’re lucky.  Usually there’s a huge mob here.” Conner glanced at the clock at the top of the shuttle doors. “Almost midnight, ehh?  That explains things.  Not many people travel The Below at night; too many superstitions of the dark caverns for most.”

Dexter gulped.  How many of those “superstitions” were true?  He didn’t want to know; most superstitions he knew in The Above were all true.

“Dex, the doors are opening in 30 seconds.  Look.” Conner murmured as he pointed to the glowing electric blue numbers on the doors that had not been there a moment ago.  “The countdown has already started.  Damn good thing we got up front when we got here; would ya look at all the people behind you?  I’d reckon there’s about twenty behind us.”

Dexter dared to look back, but regretted it instantly.  The people here were so strange: their sense of fashion so mixed up, their technology so odd, their garbled tongues they spoke to one another seemed so confusing; the Below was known for hosting escapees from all over the world.

Behind Dexter, a rather large, intimidating man stood.  He held his head high, and kept his dark eyes on no one in particular; their purchase was the shuttle door.  He, like most of the other Belowers, had strange clothes upon his body.  Black pants, too casual to be dress pants, but too dressy to be casual jeans, a black v-neck t-shirt that didn’t have much of a dip to it, and a rather large black cloak around him, incasing his arms into its darkness.  His expression held nothing more than a vacant stare in his black eyes, and a small grimace that decorated his pale lips.  A strange tattoo bedecked the side of his face, lacing its way down from his right eye and down his cheek in a strange triangular pattern.  His aura seemed to ooze off as dangerous.

Something in the depths of Dexter’s stomach somersaulted, something inside Dexter was telling him that something was off about the man behind him, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.  But whatever it was, Dexter found himself turning around just in time to see the counting down numbers on the shuttle doors read off the bright blue number twenty-one.

“Dex?” Conner looked at Dexter quizzically, as if he sensed his unease.

“Yeah?” Dexter managed out, his voice a little weak.

“You alright, mate?  You seem a bit, I dunno, spooked.” Conner’s eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into his tone.

“Yeah, sure, fine, never better.  Why?”  Dexter’s voice was on the verge of panic as he remembered that the man was behind him and could very well be listening to what he was saying over the soft murmur of passengers.  His stomach twisted.

Conner nodded and glanced back so quickly, Dexter couldn’t be sure if it even happened.

“S**t.” Conner mumbled, or at least that what was Dexter thought he said, but he couldn’t be certain.  However, he didn’t press Conner as to what he had said; he was far too concerned that the man behind him might whip out an iron coltello and stab him in the jugular for that.

Conner leaned over, his hand cupped against Dexter’s left ear.

“Alright, Dex.  Here’s the plan:  you are going to stay right by me.  No matter what anyone says to you, you are to trust me and only me.  Do not let me out of your sight, Dex.  I’m serious.  And, God forbid I need to say this, but you are to-should we ever get split up getting off this shuttle-meet me at the clock tower at the District’s edge.  Got it?” Conner whispered harshly in Dexter’s ear.

“Got it.” Dexter nodded quickly; his eyes trained on the counting down numbers on the shuttle door.  Three more to go.

Conner grabbed Dexter’s hand suddenly in what seemed to be a death grip, and dragged him out the shuttle door as soon as the doors automatically opened.  And Dexter didn’t protest; he didn’t want to lose this child.  As much as he resented the thought of a child being superior to him, he knew that the kid knew more about this underground nation than he did.  He needed the little twerp for his plans in The Below to unfold correctly.

“Quickly, Dex!  Honestly, is that your fast walking?  My grandma can walk faster than you!  We need to get our asses off this platform right now!” Conner shrieked above the roar of the now bustling Platform 5.

Dexter didn’t say anything as he sped up his pace to meet Conner’s.  He was still terrorfied by that strange man on the shuttle, and he still had that twist in his gut.  Dexter could tell by how frantic Conner was now, as opposed to how cool and collected he was on the shuttle that something was off.  Something was definitely wrong.  Something was contradicting his plans. 

His insides turned to ice when a sudden pressure on his shoulder brought him to a forceful halt.  Who the hell was touching him?  Who the hell was making him stop?  If it was that man on the shuttle, then he didn’t know if he could reach him double bladed coltello in time, as he might be literally petrified. 

“Dex!  What the hell are you doing?” Conner shouted, pulling Dexter’s wrist even harder before in attempt to bring his friend back to movement.

“I-I-I…” Dexter stuttered.  What was he supposed to say?  He had no idea what was holding him back, he didn’t want to find out either.  

“Oh, for the love of all tha-” Conner broke off mid-rant as he turned around to see what was keeping Dexter so still.

“S**t.” Was all he said, and Dexter knew that something was wrong.  That whoever was holding him this way was deffinately not someone who was with Conner.

Dexter looked around, desperately trying to see if anyone was around to help him and Conner.  But much to his dismay, Platform 5 was now entirely empty besides them.

Conner never broke his eye contact with whoever was behind Dexter, but he did whisper for Dexter to wait till his mark.

Dexter’s stomach twisted once more as he dared to look back.

It wasn’t the man from the shuttle that was holding him back, oh no.  But rather, the man that was standing next to him on the shuttle.

Dexter noticed that he was dressed similarly to how the other man was and he, too, had the same strange triangular pattern inked upon his face.  The only difference between the men was that this man was a lot bigger, scarier, and the chrome metal beard strapped to his face.

Once again, Dexter was astounded by how odd the fashion choices were here.

“Now, now, boy.  You didn’t really think you were going to get him into Viisi alive, did you?  You should’ve known we were going to be on that shuttle.  Tisk, tisk, terrible planning and foresight Gemma has these days.” The man scolded somewhat smugly; his voice a rumbling bass that had a somewhat creepy husky sound to it.

“Shut up, you.  We knew you’d follow; I was just hoping that you’d see how stupid your plan was and decide not to.  Wishful thinking, you know; can’t seem to stop it.  In any case, I think you’ll find it wise to let him go before you and your friend end up on the floor with slit throats.” Conner’s voice boomed out, authority oozing from his tones.

The two men rumbled a harsh, mocking laugh.

“You honestly believe that we’re just going to walk away and let you take him inside Viisi?  You know we can’t do that.  We have orders, you know.  Orders to obtain and, if necessary, obliterate the boy.  And you, you’re just a child.  You’re just standing in the way of this job.  But, you know, we can easily take you down, if you feel the need to play ‘strong and mighty protector.’” The man holding Dexter called out rather condescendingly. 

Conner’s intense stare never wavered from the man’s face, but he did let a smug smirk grow him place on his hard face.

“It seems to me that you chronically underestimate me and Gemma’s plans.  Shall we relive the Divi incident where I single handedly took down all eight of your vakter?” Conner’s smirk grew into a complete smile as he remembered the incident. 

“Silence.  Keep talking and I’ll kill the boy here and now.” The man bellowed, his voice reverberating against The Below’s cavern walls.

Dexter gulped; the barrel of a revolver was being pushed against his temple.

“Shut up, Conner!” Dexter screamed, and as a response, the man’s grip moved from his shoulder to around his ribcage.  The barrel of the gun jerked into his head somewhat forcefully, as if to remind him to shut the f**k up.

“Now, now, let him go.  No need to tighten your grip there, Trent.” Conner appeared to be deaf as he continued talking despite Dexter’s objections. 

“Conner, Conner.  Let’s be reasonable.  You know very well why we want him; the same reason as you.  So how’s about you quit your little game, and we’ll be on our way.  We’ll send you his corpse via Teleporticon.  How’s that sound to you?  That way we don’t shoot your brains out.” The man Conner called Trent murmured in false serenity. 

Conner’s eyes flashed and Dexter’s eyes about fell out of his skull. 

Send his corpse via Teleporticon?!  What the hell was Teleporticon and what the hell did these people want him dead so bad for?  He didn’t even know them, for Christ’s sakes! 

“You’re right.  I’m being stupid.  Take him.  Send him back when you’re done.” Conner said, smiling before turning around to leave.

What the hell?  Conner was just leaving him there?  What the f**k was that? 

“Conner!  You b*****d!  You’re just going to leave me here with these freaks?” Dexter screamed out in anger.  He thought that Conner was his friend, but apparently not, because Conner didn’t turn around.  Instead, he took a few steps forward, but was ultimately stopped when he heard Trent’s voice loom out over the platform.

“Conner Whelan.  I always knew you were weak.” Trent chucked before turning to throw Dexter over to his companion to handle.  “You hold him, Xander.  I’ll call for the hovercar.”

Just as Trent threw Dexter into the arms of the man from the shuttle, Xander, Conner turned around, and Dexter’s hope soared.  Was his friend acting the whole time?  Was he getting him out of this?

“No.” Was all Conner said before he ripped out a triple bladed coltello, and running faster than Dexter thought possible to Trent.

“You’re not taking him anywhere.” Conner whispered in Trent’s ear; his blade against his neck.

“Dexter!  Get yourself out of his grip!  Are you mad?” Conner looked up and shouted.

“Right.” Dexter mumbled, feeling Xander’s grip tighten against his forearms.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Xander chuckled.

“Except away from here.” Dexter growled out through his teeth.

Xander’s grip tightened once more as Dexter thrashed in his steel grip. 

Think, Dexter!  Think!  He mentally scolded himself, paying no mind to whatever Conner  was mumbling to Trent.  How the hell are you going to get yourself out of this?  He has your arms, so your coltello is out of the question.

An idea sprung in his mind, and before he could even register his actions, he was bringing his foot back into Xander’s torso, using the force to flip both himself and Xander.  As a knee-jerk response, Xander let go of Dexter when the cobblestone flooring hitting his back.

Dexter smirked and jumped aside, drawing out his double bladed coltello from his back pocket, getting ready for the kill if necessary.

“Dexter!  There’s one behind you!” Conner’s voice shrieked; he didn’t look at his new found friend when he heard him however, nor did he look behind him.  He was too busy staring at Xander’s body.  It looked as if it were… changing, morphing into something.

A cold grip grabbed him from the back of the neck and threw him across the platform in the next second.  Dexter didn’t have time to register much as he searched the flooring for his blade; his vision was blurring from the fall.

“You’re going to die here, boy if you don’t hand yoursssself over.” A somewhat demonic voice bellowed.

Dexter looked up from his blurred search on the cobblestones, to see the most disgusting creature he’d ever seen.  He fought back meeting his stomach acid and light breakfast as he stared at it.

The creature’s body was textured in black, rough fur that began at its feet and trekked its way up its abdomen, slowly changing into silver scales as it traveled up its torso and onto its cruel face.  The creature’s face was nothing short of revolting when Dexter surveyed it.  It had fangs, of course, like most monsters he had ever imagined having, along with complete blood red eyes, a rather obtuse nose, and cheekbones far too high for its facial structure.  His tongue slithered out from time to time; its forked shape making Dexter’s stomach cartwheel a little faster.

“Come now, boy.  You can either ssssssssit there and let me take you back, or you can fight and die.  Take your pick.” The creature hissed out.

Dexter didn’t say anything as he grabbed his coltello, which he found he overlooked, as it was right next to him, and jumped to his feet, not even using his hands in the action.

The creature hissed and stumbled back some, but not enough for Dexter’s liking. 

“Sssso you chossse to fight.  Very well.  Prepare to die, bedorven ziel.” The creature hissed out as it crouched down, as if it were getting ready to pounce.

Dexter side stepped away, trying to get closer to where Conner was now dealing with not only Trent, but a very changed, Xander, but the creature was faster than he had anticipated.  It pounced at him, only to fall flat on its stomach.  It might have been fast, but Dexter was faster. 

The creature growled out as it snapped at him, each of its snaps being blocked by his coltello that had now been extended to its full length.  Snarls and hisses escaped its mouth as Dexter blocked and caught each and every attack it threw at him. 

Dexter soon grew tired of playing defense, and opted to try for the offence.  Maybe that would be less tiresome.

The creature snapped at Dexter again, its teeth grasping purchase on the hem of Dexter’s shirt and pulling the fabric away.  It clawed at his stomach for a brief moment before Dexter brought his foot up and kicked the creature in its throat.

It whimpered and let go.  Dexter took this opportunity, and slashed one end of his coltello into the creatures face.  It let out another pained cry before swiping back at him, drawing blood from his calf, and causing him to stumble back a few steps.

He quickly regained balance and quickly slashed his coltello once more, only this time at the monsters side.  He drew his weapon back, and smiled smugly at the train of black blood oozing off the creatures scales. 

“Oh, f**k!” He shouted out, stumbling back a few steps as the creature’s claws found purchase on his cheek and swiped in a quick, downward motion.

That was it, he’d had it.  No more playing games with the little monster.  This thing, as much as he hated thinking it, was going to die.

Dexter quickly regained balance and ran forwards, charging at the creature.  His body lurched forward and his hands found the cobblestoned flooring and pushed him up and over the creature; he flipped through the air over the creature and landed gracefully on the other side in less than a second. 

Before the creature could register what had just happened, Dexter had his coltello inside one of its eye sockets and had it flung against one of the platform’s pillars. 

The creature screamed out in agony as its black blood spilled out onto the floor; it made an attempt to get up and fight, but Dexter was again too quick.

As soon as the creature began to move in the slightest, Dexter was at its side, coltello in hand. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered before plunging his blade into the creatures throat and then into its torso, slowly dragging down its abdomen.

Dexter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and flicked the button on the end of his coltello; it swiftly folded up on itself and shrunk back down to pocketknife size.  He put it back into his back pocket and took a few steps back, eyes searching for Conner.

He heard a few claps echo from behind him to which he immediately snapped around.

Conner stood behind him, his face completely shocked, as he stared at Dexter. 

“Bloody hell, mate.  I didn’t think you’d make it.  Not many new comers can take on a fully grown netvora and be able to walk away.  It didn’t bite you, did it?” Conner asked quickly, regaining his cool and collected state.

Dexter smiled and brought his hand around to scratch the back of his neck, “No, but it did rip apart my favorite t-shirt.  Oh, and it did claw my face up, and oh, my stomach.  But don’t worry; it’s not like there’s any important organs inside my torso.”

“Good.” Conner nodded.  “Because if it did bite you, you’d be dead in a half hour.”

“Good to know.” Dexter spat bitterly. 

“Yeah, well, are we going to stand here all day?  Or are we going to Gemma’s?” Conner shrugged and turned to walk away towards the gates of Viisi.

“Oh, yeah.” Dexter muttered.  “I had almost forgot, seeing as I just battled some netvora, and got my a*s all clawed up.”

“Oh, quite your complaining.  At least I got us out of that situation alive.” Conner turned around, his arms opening in a wide, angry movement.

“Really?  And how exactly did you do that, Conner?” Dexter growled out, his fists clenching at his sides.  This kid was going to be the death of him.

“What the hell do you think happened to Trent and Xander?  Do you think they magically disappeared?  No.  I killed them so they wouldn’t go back to wherever the hell they’re from and plan to attack again, or worse, get your sorry a*s.” Conner shouted, moving closer to Dexter; grabbing the collar of his ripped up shirt. “Listen, you.  I’ve done a lot of killing to get us here, in Viisi like the plans state.  You think that’s what I want to be doing at age fifteen?  Do you?  Because, honestly, if you do, I’m going to slit your throat here and now and feed you to the krakens.  I never asked for this.  I never asked to be like this, to be a f*****g bedorven ziel.  And you, you’re making this worse.  Just be a good boy, and keep up.  I need to talk to Gemma, and you obviously want to see her.”

He dropped Dexter’s shirt in disgust and pushed him away, turning his back on him and walking towards the gates once more. 

Dexter didn’t say anything; he merely followed Conner.  What was he supposed to say to that? “Oh, I’m sorry your childhood isn’t so f*****g perfect.  Take a memo, kid: no one’s is.  You didn’t have to come get me; f**k whatever plan you were talking about.  I don’t need your help.  All I need is for you to take me to Gemma, and for her to tell me what the f**k a bedorven ziel is.”?  Something inside Dexter told him that if he said that, he might be laying in his own blood on the cobblestones within a few moments.

He followed Conner to the gates of the city, not letting a word escape his lips as he put all the trust he had into the boy.  He wondered somewhere in the back of his mind if all this was worth meeting with Gemma again.  If all of this was worth figuring out what she had said before she left for The Below.

Dexter didn’t know, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

 

Author's Note

Continuee?
What do you think about it?
I was thinking of continuing and trying to finish it all the way. ;D
Should I?