Hybrid Lamborghini .Vol1 ENGLISH

17: The message

- "Capitol Radio, The official radio station of the European Metropolis! We request the help of the citizens to locate the following missing persons: Tyler Hopper. 19-year-old male. White skin, ginger hair, green eyes. Height: 1.80 meters (6' ft) approximately. Thin complexion. He was last seen at his home, in sector five Southeast, on the afternoon of June 30th. Any information must be communicated to the local authorities."

The group of Warriors surrounding the old battery-powered radio turned violently to look at me, and after a few drunken giggles, they toast to me, causing every other citizen in the open dining hall to raise their beer mugs in the air, and in unison, they joined in the spontaneous cheering.

- For Tyler Hopper! To your health boy!

My unexpected protagonism makes me a little embarrassed, but that didn't stop me from raising my drink and giving thanks for the toast along with them, even if I was toasting with nothing but bland apple juice in my glass.

- Are you serious? Did those clowns on the Metropolis just notice you're not there?! Ha!, wow, now I see why you don't miss that place too much... Those people don't deserve you, they never did. -Iker was indignant, but not surprised. He seemed to know enough about the Metropolis not to have any sympathy for its inhabitants- You're better off here. You have food, shelter... and most importantly, you have your absolutely awesome personal guide. What more could you wish for?

- Huh? I'd really like to meet that guide you're talking about, I don't think I've seen him anywhere yet. -Iker makes a frustrated gesture and gently pushes my entire body with his nose until I almost lie on the ground, all so that I would stop talking nonsense. It was a risk I was willing to take in order to tease him a bit of his innocent ego- Although, to be honest, I didn't even expect anyone to notice that I was missing. Apparently it only took them two weeks to figure it out... -I look down to see that I've spilled what little was left of my drink. An excuse to look away from my friend, who reacts immediately to the change in my voice- ... At least they realized before what my mother would have done. That isn't so bad.

The atmosphere between the two of us became a little more tense than I expected, and Iker had a bit of trouble continuing the conversation at its usual pace. I could see the conflict between his mind and his mouth.

- Oh... I'm sorry if I made you remember something you didn't want to... -Iker apologizes almost immediately, activating an instinctive damage control protocol in me, because the last thing I wanted was to ruin his morning with my problems-

- No no, it's fine Iker, you don't have to apologize, it's just that... I haven't thought about her in a long time... -For years I've avoided her memory like the plague, and the more I did it, the more present she was in my mind, although since my arrival in Cilt her presence has stopped haunting me, which was a slight relief- ... I think that's for the best. It means that now I have more important things to think about, now that I am here, and not in the Metropolis.

- ... I see. She's not the kind of mother you remember fondly, is she?

- No... She's more the type that leaves you, never to return. -The poison in my words is palpable, so much so that I try to wash them out of my mouth by drinking again from my glass, now empty, but that wouldn't be enough to plunge both of us back into unnecessary anguish- ... But that's convenient, you know? It means she's not here to scold me when I order a beer for me alone right now. -I winked at Iker to make sure the sarcasm didn't go unnoticed-

- What are you saying? You don't even drink alcohol! - Iker can be very cunning at times, but I must admit, he is just as dumb in picking up sarcasm directed at him. And now that I've been exposed in front of everyone thanks to him, I just change the focus of our conversation to something else that doesn't involve much thought on both of our parts, and in the end I reserve from drinking at the fear of a more than avoidable hangover, the result of my total inexperience and lack of taste for alcohol-