Chapter Text
The rainy weather was his favorite; it brought him that sense of tranquility that he used to sleep, regardless of the time. But at that moment, he hated the puddles of water that made every step a struggle to keep from slipping, and the constant pounding of falling water hid the flurry of chaotic footsteps that followed him.
"He came in that way. Hurry and catch him!"
More than a dozen armed men panted as they chased someone. The Anomaly Containment Force, the ACF, with its gray uniforms and caged star emblem, was a symbol of order for most... but it only meant death for those who ran in the shadows. Another volley of darts whizzed past the fugitive's right flank—too close—as he swerved into a collapsed alley, leaping over broken crates and rusty barbed wire. The smell of damp, urine, and burning oil filled his nose. Perfect: the sensors can't reach here. One more volley.
"Damn it! Stay still, freak!"
A rough-faced man swore, feeling exasperated by the long chase. His dark eyes glared at the fleeing man. He raised his rifle, aiming at the fleeing man's back, but the man easily dodged it; he even had time to make an obscene gesture with his hand.
He was wrapped in a large coat so that his identity was not distinguishable, but judging by his height and size, he must have been a man in his twenties. The most striking thing, though, was that despite fleeing from heavily armed hunters for quite some time, he ran at a steady pace and his breathing was even, like a morning jog.
Around a bend, he took advantage of a pile of trash, kicking it over to create obstacles for his pursuers. They groaned and cursed as they stumbled. A final burst of gunfire rang out behind him before he fled down the rusty stairs of a balcony and disappeared among the terraces. He heard them retreat and finally revealed the loot he was clinging to: a battered bag filled with canned food and some crumpled bills.
"500... 1000... 2000... 5000. 5000 Astralis, with that I'll barely be able to pay the rent," he lamented.
With a slow pace, he made his way back to the hole he called home. It was dilapidated, but it served as a refuge from the harsh climate of the industrial suburbs. Sometimes it seemed like the rich threw even the weather they didn't want out of the city. He rolled up his pants cuffs, shredded by dog bites, whether hunters or strays, and saw the pile of scratches and wounds. He pecked at them with a finger and sighed at the sensation. Or, rather, the lack of one. He walked to the 'shower' and stepped into the makeshift tub under the shower. The water, surprisingly still warm, emitted a bitter but familiar scent. He dove under despite the sting of his wounds, but he barely felt his muscles relax before a shrill voice interrupted him.
"How many times do I have to tell you to clean up the blood before you come back?! Ugh! How come they haven't caught you if you leave a trail wherever you go?" A small, disheveled woman pulled back the curtain, not caring about the other's condition. "Zachary Beckett, I'm going to charge you for the rug this time!"
"Camellia..." He whispered, without opening her eyes. "Thanks for preparing the water again."
"You're impossible," she growled, already walking out of the broken bathroom.
But she didn't close the door properly. She never did when she suspected something worse was lurking beneath the silence. She was cleaning dark stains in the hallway—dried blood between synthetic fibers—when she heard him fall to the floor. Cursing under her breath and grumbling about 'stubborn, stupid men' she re-entered the damp room and found Zack passed out next to the tub, his skin ashen—as if his nickname were more true than his name—infected wounds beginning to glow faintly: that characteristic dark red… the curse of the zodiac. That gene that characterized them, that made them hunting targets, activated under extreme stress. Camelia didn't hesitate. She dragged him to her room; he weighed too much for someone so small. Shaking old boxes behind the broken refrigerator, she extracted a black bottle: 'Star Antiseptic' secretly made with stabilized regerenatuve cells—only accessible on the black market... or stealing it from official laboratories.
While she cleaned his sores without real delicacy, she spoke.
"Zack... one day you're going to die before you know what an idiot you are for continuing to deny yourself entry to the shelter just because you think your brother appeared in a filthy newspaper." Zack slowly opened his eyes.
"I saw his face... it was him..."
Camellia let out a bitter sigh. Zack had already proven to be the most stubborn tenant she'd ever had.
"Many here have seen familiar faces. Even my best friend was in one saying 'odel worker' The following week they found her bones marked with the serial number 347-B."
She turned her face away to prevent him from
seeing her tears. Dense silence filled again. Only leaks answered from the cracked ceiling. Then Camellia murmured:
"Your brother... Zack... whether the stars know what he did or why... but you're getting into way more trouble than you should. You're not even 25 years old yet and... It's not just this damn city hunting you down every night... Your abilities are just awakening and still unstable. And maybe... Maybe your brother wasn't who you thought he was either."
Zack wanted to answer... But another electric tremor rose from his gut.
A sudden flash:
His brother smiling behind tinted windows...
A white coat...
And red letters on a metal wall:
"Test Subject - Code 515-NK-1"
He sits up abruptly, fingers digging into his own arms, his heart beating twice as fast.
'What the hell did I just see?'
Camelia stares at him, as if she knows exactly what's going to happen inside his skull. Before leaving, she said.
"Some memories don't come back just like that... Some just want to come out."
Camellia left after that reflection. Zack closed his eyes and slept. He doesn't know if it was a pleasant dream or if he just fainted from accumulated fatigue, but the next morning he woke up refreshed. Something rare for him since arriving in the city. He already knew exactly where to get his next lead: the Lumina casino. They don't care what kind of creature you are as long as the chips flow like water, and Zack had saved months just for this opportunity.