Restless - Chapter 5

Clyde took the lead as soon as we started coming across patrols of guards. Not city guards though. They were more… militaristic. With what Moll said earlier about a defensive line… were we near a warzone? Hmm… how do I ask without getting caught… 

“Uh- crazy about all that fighting, huh?” Too obvious, way too obvious! Cinders! Please let them fill in on their own!

”No kiddin’. They don’t call it the Blood Fields for notin’. Glad we got ya’ out of there afore ya’ were gang pressed into that darn war.” Moll sighed. “Just lost all our money while we were at it…”

A natural lull in our conversation formed as we passed by a trio of gua- soldiers. They were definitely soldiers. No armor though. Yet another point I wasn’t anywhere familiar. I’d expect to at least see the legions’ symbols and armor in the Republic, but these guys were dressed in dark blue button-up shirts, pants, and what looked like riding boots. Not to mention they had ancient-looking rifles and sabers.

Clyde broke the lull as we put up distance from the patrol. “Well, after this ‘en, we’ll be set for a while. Gettin’ in and out will be the issue though…”

In the distance, the uproarious chatter of taverns filled the air. Although this place was weird in far too many ways, some things never changed it seems. Drunk soldiers out of uniform spilled out and staggered around, heading to the next stop on their barhops. Some laughed with friends while others puked in alleys.

Outside of the unholy amount of alcohol, I could scarcely catch the scent of cooking food. It was something I’d expect from a street filled with taverns, and yet it simply wasn’t there. I looked around again, catching sight of slightly hollow cheeks and far too many skinny builds. Maybe a famine? 

Clyde took on a swaggering stance, and Moll pulled me back a few steps behind him as she started walking far more gracefully. “Remember the plan.”

I followed after them, my eyes drifting amongst the crowded streets. There were always those looking to take advantage of the people’s drunkenness. I picked out the scampering of pickpockets amongst the masses of rank alcohol and fresh bile.

Most were young and frail kids, though there were a fair slathering of older adults. Many of the older folk sported limps, missing limbs, or other wounds. Interestingly, there was a large gap where I’d expect to see young adults.

Thankfully, I never had to resort to such a thing in Voth Prime since being one of a few couriers willing to go to the seedy Undercity paid enough, but it was a damn close thing. If it weren’t for the generosity of the church, I’d probably be amongst these thieves in another life.

Speaking of the church, I’d yet to see even a hint of them. Usually, they had altars at least every block. You couldn’t walk down the streets of the Republic without seeing at least one devout, but here? None of that.

It was unsettling to say the least, leading me to believe I was on some kind of Lost World. But then how did I get here? What happened to that group that kidnapped me? How did I even become this- this Jasper character in the first place? Nothing made sense.

One of the guards, this one dressed almost exactly like Clyde and resting atop a horse, rode over to us. There were a few differences in what Clyde had on and the guard, such as a lone silver star pinned onto the front of his duster, but it was incredibly coincidental--or maybe not--how similar they were.

The man stopped his horse just in front of us. Moll pulled on my sleeve, pulling me back slightly. I took a cue from her and hid my head slightly below my hat as I tried to imitate her servile stance. “Hold there.”

“Hic- whatta ya’ lookin’ at?” Clyde drunkenly spoke as he waggled his hand at the guard. “Can’t I- hic- jusht drink in peishe, ya’ brutish bashtard?”

Moll stepped forward, gently dragging Clyde back. “I’m so sorry, sir… the masstah ain’t thinkin’ straight.”

”Unhand me, you ung-hic-rateful wench!” Clyde struggled out of her hold. He easily broke out of it as if he were in a drunken rage.

The guard frowned down at us as Moll passed Clyde onto me. “Show me your face.”

Moll froze up slightly as she reached for the veil. I caught sight of Clyde’s hand ‘stumbling’ closer to the revolver at his waist as my heart started to pound in my chest. Were we about to get into a shootout? I’d barely even shot a gun! There’s no way-

”Not you. Wouldn’t want to bother a lady in mourning. Your ‘master’. He fits the profile of a wanted man.” The guard’s hand fell to the longarm on his lap as his other reached up to some weird box on his shoulder.

”R-right… sorry, sir.” Moll took Clyde back and reached for the bandana. Clyde flopped his head back drunkenly. “Masstah, please behave.”

”Nevah!” Clyde continued to struggle against her.

”Sorry, sir… masstah’s doctor prescribed aromatherapy to help with the grief…” Moll smoothly explained the mask as she struggled with the ‘unwilling’ man.

The act continued for a few moments before Moll finally grabbed hold of the bandana, pulling it down. I got my first real look at Clyde as I waited for the guard to bust us. He had an extremely ordinary face, not standing out aside from the slight fat on his cheeks as if he had been eating well. He also looked significantly older than I would’ve guessed.

The guard stared down at Clyde for several long moments, his hand tapping on his rifle. Was it over? Did he see through the disguise-

The man relaxed atop his horse, tipping his hat to us. “Right… y’all be careful. All kinds of unsavory sorts out tonight.”

Clyde hastily pulled the bandana back up, shooting a glare at the guard. “Hic- no reshpect…”

The guard just shook his head and rode off back through the crowd, keeping his eyes sharp like a hawk’s. Clyde snorted coldly as he staggered around drunkenly to better blend in with the crowd. Moll quickly followed him, dragging me along.

Are we- are we just going to ignore that ever happened? 

“We’re almost there. You ready?” Clyde asked after we left behind the scene of the incident.

For what? The heist? No wait- there was a defensive line before that, right? I mutely nodded my head as I followed along behind the two. It was the only thing I could do.

Moll excitedly hopped to the side as she dragged Clyde’s arm, completely forgetting to keep in character. “Ah! Would you look at that!” 

I followed along behind her as we headed for a board across the street covered in loose papers. Most of the papers were wet, evidently having been rained on at some point. The ink ran a bit, but I could still make out what they were: bounties.

It took mere moments before I spotted what Moll was excited about. Two pages in particular, looking freshly pinned to the board, sat on the bottom corner. The first depicted a beautiful woman, her features almost an exact match for Moll. ‘Wanted: Mollina ‘Dragoon’ Waysha’ sat in bold on the top of the page.

Moll clapped her hands together. “It’s been updated! Arson, Disorderly Conduct, Desertion, Assault, Trespassin’, Bribery, Aggravated Assault, Fraud, Robbery, Murder. Oh, this one is new: Selling Guns to Wavia. Shoot, I’m almost tempted to turn myself in for sixty thousand.”

Clyde chuckled and looked over his own bounty. “Mines all the same.” Unlike Moll’s, the face drawn was entirely wrong. Every line was made twitchily as if the artist wasn’t even sure what they were drawing in the first place. The top of his bounty said ‘Wanted: Clydail ‘Faceless’ Waysha’. He had just as many ‘accolades’ as Moll on his bounty, though most of his were marked with suspected.

I really was stuck with wanted criminals, huh… I’m scorched. So unbearably scorched. It was only a matter of time till we were caught and… executed. Yep! I felt an invisible tear well up in my eyes. Both bounties were for the two to be brought in dead, not alive. I’d be dragged to the execution block with them at this rate. 

Thankfully, the two didn’t want to linger around the bounty board for long. We left the taverns behind, quickly entering a more rundown side of town as fewer and fewer stragglers wandered around. And yet, more and more guards stalked the streets in ever-growing patrols.

Clyde led us down a back alley guarded by an old passed-out beggar and his ferocious-looking pet. I’d almost call it a dog, but all the dogs I’d seen put this thing to shame. It was tiny and wouldn’t stop barking. Its head was held high as if its ego was far bigger than its body.

I noticed Moll barely restrained herself from punting the thing as we walked past the man. “Damn chihuahuas…”

The man leading us also noticed as he chuckled heartily. “Still holdin’ a grudge from that time in Tiabet, eh?”

Moll growled at the man. “Just get us closa’. I ain’t rehashin’ why chihuahuas should just go extinct.”

“It’s just over yonder.” Clyde raised his hands defensively. And he was right. We turned down two more alleys before he pulled us to a sewer grate. “Go ahead, Jasper. Pull it off.”

“Right.” I stared down at the grate for a moment. No way I could do this with my real body. I was basically a walking twig. But with this one? Maybe.

I squatted down to get a grip on it. My muscles bulged as I put my all into lifting the grate. Just as a shot of adrenaline raced through my system, the metal groaned and lifted up out of its spot. I quickly shoved it to the side.

“Ay, Jasper, pass me the bag,” Moll instructed as she pulled off the veil and swept her hair back into a ponytail. “Exit route safe?”

Clyde’s eyes twinkled as he pulled down his bandana once more. I froze up in shock as the old man I was expecting to see vanished without a trace. Instead, he looked every bit the perfect twin of the guard that stopped us. The slight hunch in his back also disappeared as he stood ramrod straight, encompassing the very vibe the guard had.

“What do you think?” Even his voice lost some of the oldness, taking on a sharper edge just like the guard. "Move along, let us pass."

”Your face-“ I stopped myself, hoping neither of them heard me. If we were traveling companions, I surely would’ve known about whatever was happening by now.

Unfortunately, Clyde’s sharp ears picked up my whisper of a voice. “Surprised? That’s right, never got to show ya’ this. Cool, eh?”

His face froze, and countless tendrils of muscle wormed under his skin in a horrifying visage. His bones seemed to melt under the onslaught. In mere moments, he copied Moll’s face to a T. His voice similarly changed to fit hers. “Why, Clyde is just the coolest cat ‘round. I’m such a lucky gal!”

Before I could fully process the impossible nature of what just happened, Moll planted her boot into his side. “You bettah’ wipe that look right off, mister.”

Clyde shrugged off the blow and wrapped his bandana back up as his face shifted back. The laughing lines of his original eyes returned in full force. “Yeah, yeah… one Moll is already too much.”

They started bickering once more as my head pounded with barely masked tension. Clyde had powers. Clyde- was he a Herald? Ah, but he had a massive bounty, so was he a villainous Omen? I’d heard tales on the radio of Omens, of course, but this? Coming face to face with one? Cold fear raced through me.

Just when I started to suspect things couldn’t get worse, Moll reached into the bag and pulled on a weird metallic glove. She snapped her fingers, causing sparks to fly as the glove’s thumb brushed the pointer finger. The sparks trailed around, forming a slight stream of flame. 

I stared at the woman in shock. Was she a Paladin of the church? I’d seen a few of them summon flames like this- No, that wasn’t quite right. Unlike the Paladins of the Eternal Sun, she didn’t summon the fire. And it lacked that certain holy vibrato that a Paladin’s flame had. It was more like she… controlled it? Controlling elements was a pretty common ability amongst the Graced, I think. Was she an Omen too? 

By the pyre, things were already bad enough. Being stuck with two Omens on top of all of this chaos? Oh Great Lord, what did I do wrong? Why must you punish me so? 

Entirely unaware of my internal struggles, Moll turned back to us. “Right… everyone ready?”

“After you, milady.” Clyde bowed deeply, motioning to the sewer.

Moll shot him a disdainful look as she jumped down into the sewer. A second later, a crisp sound came from underneath us and a sizable ball of fire formed on her hand, illuminating the large sewer system. “Y’all comin’?”

This was my last chance to get out. My last chance to attempt an escape… No. It would be better if I stayed with these two. I could run, but there was no telling what they would do. Maybe they'd finally realize I'm not really their Jasper and kill me?

Even if I could run, where would I go? I still had no clue where I was, and this place obviously played by different rules than Voth Prime. Cinders! I could be on the other side of the galaxy from the Voth System! For that matter, I might not even be in the galaxy. I still hadn’t seen even a hint of stars.

No- my best bet was to stick with the two Omens and hope for the best. Maybe this really was some weird virtual reality or hyper-realistic dream I’d wake up from at any moment. I just needed to see this through, then I could make an alternate plan accordingly. And it’d be staying in character.

But if I could escape, maybe I wouldn’t even need to stay in character? Maybe I could find a way out of this- this mess and return to normal… 

Okay, okay. Calm down. Deep breathes. Be rational about this. What would Vayne do-

Clyde clapped me on the back, taking advantage of my inattentiveness to push me towards the sewer. I barely managed to catch myself as he chuckled, though I got his point as he easily took the decision away from me. No way I could escape two Omens by myself anyway, so further speculation was off the table. At the very least, they were on my side… for now.

I jumped down after Moll, immediately getting hit with the stench of the place. It wasn’t the worst stench I’d been hit with; some places in the Undercity of Voth reeked so bad even the Uncous Curates were hesitant to head into them. I'd been slipped some Sparks more than once to go refill lanterns for them.

I moved out of the way just as Clyde fell down. If Moll’s descent could be described as graceful and mine controlled, then Clyde’s was a chaotic mess. He fell in a jumble, barely managing to catch his balance before standing back up as if nothing happened. His eyes shot open, almost daring us to say something. 

Moll snorted coldly before turning around. The flame in her hand grew brighter as she grabbed the short-barreled gun from its sling and led the way forward. I unwillingly followed as Clyde took up the rear.