No Last Words

➣ Ch 2.

It is true. You cannot tell an UnStability from a human by how they look. It is only their past that makes them different.

'If you come back one more time I'll carve the eyes out the back of your head!'

It was a women's yelling, coming from the far end corridor on the east block. Harshly, she slammed the door in her husbands face. Exhausted as he was from fighting, he leaned forward with a hand on the sealed door. His breath seemed to accompany the growling of his stomach. Heavy, and in short sips. 'You bitch- ' He pounced, 'open the bloody door!' he nailed his fists hard against it, sending shivers that echoing throughout the walls. One or two more of those and the old pipes in the ceiling would collapse.

The fascinating scene must have been quite the view for an onlooker. The cold hallway corridor matching his dirty hair and ragged clothes. Once white- now dripping with pain and regret. Where he had taken a wrong turn, he couldn't recall. But the idea of the man of the house-not actually able to get into the house- was too much for him to handle.

In a whiff of anger the door suddenly flew open and he fell forward. Surprise lit in his rosy face. He balanced out the fall with his hands, but was left with a confused silence. A moment passed and he wondered as to why he had suddenly regained access to his silently empty apartment. But just as he was about to step inside, the answer came flying through the room. 'Not my hunting knife!' he growled, and ducked, just in time. It pierced the wall behind him inches from his head. 'Don't you dare get your ass back in here!' His wife shrieked. He cursed loudly as another set of knives came flying, followed by a glass bottle, no more than a few inches away this time either. As he stumbled back on his feet again he made the wise decision as to dry this one out and perhaps leave for the night instead.

He had just gotten around the corner, stumbling on, as he bumped into his neighbor, Felix, on the way home from a long night.

It's not that he worked all that hard everyday, just that coming home never seemed that real pleasant either. He was a couple of decades younger than his violent neighbor downstairs and luckily without such a charming companion for a wife either.

As characteristics goes he had a habit of shaving every day, but still forgetting to brush his hair. Skinny as he was he became dependent on his deep cheekbones and dark facade to keep from getting smothered. Not that he didn't know how - it was just easier to keep people at a distance this way.

Easier, yes...
And not so exhausting.

He slowly dragged his feet upward. Under his arm were an edition of todays newspaper- folded in half and ready to turn his day around again- he just didn't know it yet. At the seventh floor our resident picked up his keys from under the doormat and with another pair from his pocked unlocked all six locks.

His shoes were peeled off by the door, before he threw the keys in a bowl by the cupboard. After welcoming the relaxing scent of his home he dragged hiself over to the livingroom and dumped onto the couch.

He felt the aching in his shoulders slowly disappearing.

Felix always kept small apartments. It might look dirty on the outside, but in order to keep the ladies he wanted he had to keep it clean on the inside. Sterile. Clean. Dark. The perfect combination.

If only he wasnt so damn tired. Sleep dragged in his eyes making them hard to keep open. After another minute of removing muscle ace on the couch he got over to the kitchen to switch on the coffee machine. This was the smallest part of his humble place, consisting of a pair of plates in the sink, a broken lamp, an old, white counter, and blue plaid curtains hanging from the small window.

A movement by his arm made him look down. The Dark markings had appeared again- and was slowly floating down his lower arm. This is what kept him up at night - lying awake reading - wondering what everything ment. The text on his arm. When's the next thing going to happen? What did it mean? Why did he get to read it before it happened? People told him he had God's power- well at least God got to rest on the seventh day, all he had was work.

But when he then unfolded the paper he discovered something that peaked his interest more than sleep.

There had been an accident.
...and not one caused by humans.

He double checked he wasnt wrong.
Certainly.

An accident. Yes.

But what kind?

'Roaring speculations broke out when police arrived at the reported nightclub. Witnesses describe what seemes to be a tornado having turned the entire building upside down.' Like God had played with them- the house had blown out of the ground- then put right back onto its foundation.
UPSIDE down.

He read further down.

There were no survivors.

Talk about turning tables.

Brrrring!

'Felix. You saw the paper?'

There was a stressed voice on the other end.

'Of course.' he said, keeping his voice calm.

He had a feeling they might call him after something like this. The work of an Un-Stability, clearly. And not a weakling either. 'They want you in. Remi's handling this one personally.'

It was hard enough being in the service of thieves and murderers before- now there was a whole world undiscovered out there with Un-Stabilities lurking around every corner. Everybody hunting them- there was no stopping the power-hungry forces. The military, the government, scientists- the Brotherhood. Everybody wanted a piece of them- and everybody wanted them dead. Or dead as dead can be- as long as it served them right.
Ever since the Un-stabilities appeared there was never anyone that considered them standing up for themselves.

He had known Remi long enough to understand this sort of thing would peek his interest. Of course he would take it personally.

He checked his phones message board. It was him. Only three sentences long.

They found her. 04:16am yesterday.

She's dead.

'Dead, huh? '

He turned to the paper again.

'Well that's gonna leave a problem' he mumbled, before checking his watch. The letters on his arm caused a stir. Time to work.

***