David Anderson was a man of very few virtues, yet among the drinking, the smoking, and other things better left untold, there was something he very much despised; it probably made up for all the rest, but really, it wasn't his right to judge.
Alas, not always one is paid in kind when he does good or thinks that he is doing good, and that was why David cursed himself over and over again, when following his gut instincts to protect somebody, he had almost died three times over. Now he now found himself in what was likely an alien world, in the middle of a really bad district, in the center of an abandoned ally, and with his hand wet with alien's blood.
"What the hell…"
Sadly for him, It didn't end there; he had been seen in the act.
"Of course…"
But maybe this time, he wouldn't be left to his own devices.
Whoever had found him reclining on the dead body of an alien—that had surely spent his entire life lifting weights in the gym—other than shrieking for the scare, reacted in a much more amicable way than he expected.
The—
Fay
Level: 67
—for the weird system called the Source that had welcomed him, had defined it as such, didn't scream and shout for the police intervention; instead, she grew interested and asked for his name.
"Mine? My name? David—David Anderson."
The devilishly attractive Fay nodded, but she stumbled on the name the man had told her with the grace of a true movie star. Her accentuated brows, lacking almost any form of facial hair—but with very imposing eyelashes—rose up, just as her head rotated by roughly sixty degrees to the right for the slight confusion adorning her face, "Devi'ant—son?"
"I…don't think that's how you correctly pronounce—Wait! No, no, no! Take it back!"
But it was too late; the damage had been done.
The Source
Congratulations, Devi'ant Son! You have been named!
"No! That's not even a proper name, come on!"
The Source
You can only modify the pronunciation; do you want to make changes to the name you have been given?
David Anderson, sighed, "At least make it proper…"
The Source
Congratulations, Deviant Son! Your name has been set!
David closed his eyes shut in acceptance. This was his new reality, and his new name couldn't but reflect his circumstances. After all, he had been the one found with his hands wet with Fiend's blood.
"Well, shite…"
He found himself thinking that, ultimately, the nomenclature was rather "—proper," as he would say with his British accent, appropriate to his new situation. His new name would be quite an addendum to his personality. It might give him that little touch of je-ne-sais-quoi, of which he had lacked for most of his life, back on Earth. Maybe his title of Trespasser fit just as much.
David couldn't care less about the voice speaking with him at that moment, for he was sure, one hundred percent sure, that if a form of police existed in this world, it would be already coming to apprehend him at that very moment. The voice could wait.
—The Fay, not that much.
"Listen… this is not what it looks like, okay?" Dave said, fidgeting.
"I know... come… ?" she said, extending him her hand.
"What? You mean, with you? What about the jakes…aren't they coming?" He asked as he cleansed his red-bloodied hands on the Fiend he had unwillingly killed.
The thing that looked like a hunchback, hooded human, although more than two meters and a half tall, had been walking on two animal-like legs; yet as Dave saw it up close, with its legs partially uncovered, he couldn't say he was still so sure about what the bloody hell the creature was. At least the Fay in front of him looked closer to a Human being.
"No…... hiding… come?" The Fay, for the Source had described her as such, kept shaking her head and—almost desperately—kept inviting him to follow.
Her anxious behavior brought him back to a semblance of critical thinking. He had indeed just killed somebody, although he had done so to protect himself, but would the police of this—definitely nonhuman—world comply with his silvery reasons? There surely was some form of police in that place, wasn't there? It looked like a civilized place, with buildings and all...
"...Alright, let's go."
Hearing that, the Fay took him by the hand; hers was cooler yet smoother than any other hand he had ever held while his was warm but growing colder for the weather.
Back on Earth, Summer still raged on. At the same time, wherever he had ended up arriving after the encounter with the mysterious creature had brought him into a dark tunnel was definitely a world in full winter.
The Fay, a dark violet hood covering her features, ran ahead of him, and she was going much too fast for his legs to follow. Maybe it was his impression, but wasn't she a bit too fast than physics dictated? Especially given her petite body.
Yet, he couldn't really think about that for it was winter, he was dressed in cotton; he had just killed something, and his wrist ached; so he would have sincerely preferred slowing down to protect his ankles from shattering as well, for he wasn't really a runner, he was not used to it.
"Ouch…" David let out a whimper.
The Fay did not stop but turned toward him and replied, "...heal?"
A.S.U.T. is now level 6. Universal Translation 6%
It was clear now that the stupidly long-named "Automatic Systemic Universal Translation'' skill that he had received as he reached this world had yet to really shine. And although other than the word "heal," he had heard only jargon, the bulk of the Fay's intentions were clear.
"What? Yeah, I wish… My wrist is probably broken, but I doubt that—" the Fay didn't even let him finish; she jerked to a stop, then took his left forearm to her face and—
Dave was taken aback by the amount of power the petite creature was able to generate as she pulled on him, and he feared she was some sort of vampire, "No, please, I…roll my cigarettes with that hand!" Still, the creature took his wrist and, and she kissed it.
"Oh—well, I know that moms used to kiss kids knees when they fall, but that doesn't really work. Besides…come on, that's just filthy! Look at all that blood…" But David stopped whining when he felt relief. He could hear and feel his wrist emit creaking noises, then his bones set by themselves.
Dave was mystified. When the Fay detached her lips from his wrist, he could see thick veins bulge under her skin; her face, too, turned to one of grief for a moment. It was likely that, whatever she had done, had not been pleasant for her.
David pulled the arm back, literally tearing it away from her grip, "Alright…that was weird, but it's fine now. You don't have to hurt yourself to...fix it?"
"No… Fey… ...help." She took him by his right hand again, and they got back to running.
David tried moving his previously broken wrist; it was perfectly functional.
Still incredulous, he focused back on his location; the alleys through which they were running were dark, deserted. A peculiar night with a sky covered in darkened magenta clouds hid a moon much too big from the one he was used to. Then again, David thought he wasn't exactly in the best frame of mind, for he thought he was looking at a moon so big that it dwarfed the Moon he knew.
"That moon is dangerously close, is it safe?" he asked.
"Fein... … ...Source," answered the Fay.
Dave's eyes rolled back as he whispered, not entirely convinced, "Yeah…"
They finally reached an area where imposing yet broken-down buildings covered the empty lot with their massive shadows. They seemed to have been built as if their purpose was that of housing as many residents as possible.
Each building was decently tall, but farther, much farther in the distance stood a city, the weirdest city David had ever laid eyes upon, where buildings that put to shame everything he had seen before stood tall. They were staggeringly more imposing than those toward which the Fay had led him; they put Dubai to shame. The streets, littered with an abundance of waste that seemed to want to bar them the passage, opened up in a trail that led to a partially lit basement floor.
When they reached the—too dark for David's eyes—doors, the Fay literally kicked them open, and the young man's sight cleared, for a small fire waited for them a few meters ahead.
There was no one else in the building, but it was clear that somebody had been there. The halls were littered with rubbish, and the smell of feces still hung in the air, albeit old.
Reaching the fire, the Fay let go of his hand, and—mimicking something he was too weirded-out to follow—she marched off somewhere up a flight of stairs covered in dust.
David let out a breath of relief; he swiftly leaned back on the walls, they were darkened by soot, but he couldn't care less at this point.
His clothes were filthy, covered in blood, and a dark sticky substance So he let himself collapse with his bottom to the ground. Hands to his face, he summoned up the Source by repeating the formula, as he had been instructed, "Source: Status."
The Status manifested in front of his eyes, coalescing from thin air.
Status
Name: Deviant (David Anderson) Son
Blessing: Blessing of the Source (Unique) – Resilience + 1 every Level
Title: Trespasser (Unique): Locked
Level: 0
Class level: N.A.
Class Perks: N.A.
Attributes
Health: 50%
Stamina: 67%
Well: 100%
Alacrity: 5
Constitution: 5
Perception: 4
Strength: 5
Mind: 5
Resilience: 1
Charisma: 2
Attribute points: 0
You have 1 Source Box.
Another message from the Source was delivered to his mind just as David stared at the text dangling in mid-air, his health ticked down to forty-nine percent.
The Source
Your Health is less than half.
Removing his hands from his eyes, he took a good look at them. They were darker than before. The stupid Source in the air was already poisoning him to death, as the messages had said.
He breathed in and out slowly as he recalled the events that had brought him to that absurd place. "What does Roy always say?" He asked himself, "Relax, take it easy…I know he stole it from a song, but it works—or at least it did back on Earth—now let's breathe… Slowly, in—and out..." He closed his eyes, relaxing or trying to.
"In—and out..."
David mentally went back to the events of that day… how the hell had he even got here in the first place?!
***
"—I can't trust you, Dave. And you know it, I can't trust you with this. No, sir. No, I'm sorry. You just keep messing it up. You lost the plot last week, and the week before, and ever since you got out of that bloody place, so—" David's mum, an old-fashioned black woman, hardened by time, with her antiquated hair bob cut, just didn't want to give him the keys to their Mini. Well, it was actually her Mini, but she wasn't the best of drivers, so she barely used it.
"Alright, mum, alright. I'll just take the coach. No problemo." Saying so and rolling his eyes back, David took the package with the sandwich from the table, a sandwich he had obviously prepared himself, and closed the door behind his back; he did so just a little bit too strongly than he really wanted to.
"Bollocks..." he exclaimed once he realized his mistake. He knew that there would be retribution in the form of another five minutes of whining from his mother, but he had had enough for that morning.
Waking up, cooking breakfast for both, preparing his own take-away meal, and having to fight back his urge to get the bloody hell away from that place had been enough.
His mother shouted from behind the door. "David, why did you slam the door!?" But Dave wouldn't stop to get verbally spanked by his mother again; he hurried up to the bus stop. He was indeed getting too old for that.
So, he ran on Summer's hot sidewalk, and he caught the vehicle passing by just in time, then juggling between the passengers getting off of it, David found the last empty seat on the coach.
As the coach sped up, his mother's reddish terraced house swiftly abandoned his vision, but the woman staring at him maliciously from behind the window kept looking at him with a look of unrestrained dissatisfaction.
He could read her labial, "You're a deviant of a son."
Yeah, she had taken calling him that ever since his incident. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but he knew she had all the rights to. He would never openly admit it, yet thinking about it, he had already admitted it by staying at her house for lack of any other means.
Sighing in his stupidly already worn orange community service uniform, David put on his earphones and focused on the day waiting for him.
People stared at him judgmentally or simply laughing at him, but he had gotten used to it by now. He didn't really give a damn anymore; he knew that the price he had paid for doing what he did was worth every minute of his sentence. Besides, his probation was about to end; he would finally be entirely free of bindings. Maybe he would move to the City, and finally out from his mother's house, again.
"I would gladly do it again," he said, snickering to himself.
The voice of a woman reached his ears over the music, "What did I teach you, Sarah? Don't look at those people," she was speaking to her little girl.
David paused the music.
"Is he a bad man, mommy?" asked the little girl. "I don't know, baby, but don't look at him," whispered the mom, "people like that are dangerous."
"Is it because of the weird colors he wears, mommy? He looks like a road sign," she chuckled.
"Yeah… that too."
Dave faked not to hear them, but just before the coach reached Dave's bus stop, he turned toward them, smiling, then started making funny faces at the girl; of course, it took her literally three seconds to start giggling, he had mastered the arts after unrelenting months of training. The woman couldn't help but burst into laughter as well.
At that point, he had reached his destination, and getting up, as the coach stopped, he turned to look at the still smiling woman then –just like that– gave her the finger, whispering, "Teach this to your child, slapper."
Happy with his decision and by the woman's gawking expression, David dropped off. He had a long day of work ahead of him, and now he felt much more refreshed.
"What does this mean, mommy?" The little girl asked, repeating the sign she had just learned and probably the word as well.
With a refreshed smile, David took in the panorama.
His little town, Catford, "Where foxes literally throw themselves at your car," had sentenced him with community service. And now, he worked near a pub by the metro for the City.
David was now adept at working at the nearby child entertainment service center, where young, troubled women or single parents left their children to go to work. It was almost a dream job for him. However, one such parent and her little girl, Willow and Zoe, were very dear to him, not that he would ever confess he had had literally two decades to and had never done so because, for lack of better saying, David was a fool.
Suddenly he sneezed, "Somebody must not be thinking kindly of me," he shrugged, "not a rare thing, I guess." He headed to work after that.
***
It was four in the afternoon, and it was time he took his well-earned break. As always, he would go to the pub, "The Purr;" it stood just across the street.
Roy, the dumbest friend Dave had ever met, was also his dearest. He wasn't the best figure to accompany a troubled individual such as David, but he was the pub owner, which meant free drinks—every once in a while—this time, it was not one of those.
"Oi! Did you see her today?" Roy asked with a wide smile as he slammed a mug on the counter.
The black man was a big-headed, broad-backed fellow; he hadn't much more hair to shed anymore, but he kept his physique in prime condition, which was good for him.
The pub was still partially closed, only one light was turned on, it shone on top of Roy's bald head. Still, David had the keys, for before he did his misdeed, he worked at the pub with Roy.
"Nope, she didn't, 'sides, she probably won't; she should have a double turn today," answered David, sitting on a stool, then took the just-cleaned mug and shook it in the air.
"It's still early for that, Dave," Roy answered with a malicious grin.
After that exclamation, they froze, staring intently at each other. Then they burst in laughter, and Roy poured them both Guinness, dark as the night itself.
"You can't keep going on like this, Dave, speak and get on with it," said Roy wetting his mustache with the black lager. "Last time you properly spoke to her was—" he raised his hand in the air, counting with his fingers, "three months ago."
"You learned how to count with your fingers, isn't that respectable?" Dave judged.
Roy wasn't even listening; he was still counting, "Look at that!" He shouted, amused, ignoring the taunt, "It coincides with the time you were—"
"—at the gaol; yeah." Dave finished the phrase for him, "It's the twenty-sixth thousandth time you said that. Besides, after what she's gone through, cutting ties with everybody is the best thing she could do. I wonder why she hasn't left for the City yet since the arsehole is at large again."
Roy puffed, "You must stop thinking about that tosser, Dave. How many times do I have to say it? You are going to get yourself in trouble again; just let the wanker be. He will get caught; he will do it again."
"That's the problem, Roy. He is going to do it again, and no one can stop him; it shouldn't work like that, and you know it." Dave's foot started beating on the counter's stand.
"Hey, relax, mate. Take it easy," answered Roy in a mocking tone, "this is how the system works. If you've still got that devil on your shoulder, maybe you should have your service place changed because—as you said before—if you just can't speak to her then leave David, you're damaging yourself by staying here, mate," Roy shook his already half-empty mug in the air, for emphasis but David didn't answer, so he continued, "Anyway, I haven't seen that arsehole ever since you got into trouble to break his mug."
Dave knew Roy was right, but he chose to answer by changing the subject, with a smirk. He hated that relax shit. "I'm almost done with that place." He jerked a thumb at his back, "one more week and I'm through…but aside from that, if I were to leave now, I'd lose my "one in seven" free-pint?" He shook his own mug, "I'm not that nutty."
Roy slammed his, now empty, mug on the counter, "Just stop spouting nonsense!" David did not react; he knew Roy's foolishness, so he rolled his eyes.
The bald man grinned, "Say the truth…" he stared at David, getting closer to his face, "you just can't spend one day without looking at my beautiful face, innit?"
Arching a single eyebrow, Dave snorted.
"Come on, chief, just say it. I know you love me."
David raised his mug in response, "Yes, Roy, staring at your bald head, mirroring my beautiful self is the top of my day."
Roy drew back, placing his pint on the counter, then nonchalantly added, "You know that your hairline is receding as well, right Dave, my friend—"
Suddenly, a loud sound came from the nearby alley, they both turned their head toward it.
"Bloody foxes," shouted Roy, throwing his cloth, hanging on his shoulder, on the counter. He took the metal bat he had hidden and left from the rear exit.
"I have to see this," David said to himself. He slowly got up from the stool, lifted the counter door, made in oak –pretty much like everything else in the pub– and after reaching the rear exit, he rested his shoulder on the door's frame.
Looking at Roy's useless attempt to chase after the fox that had learned the delights of Roy's garbage can, David smiled, amused at his friends' lack of grace.
However, something else stole his attention.
A shadow across the street and near the center where he worked was moving suspiciously.
He hadn't seen the wanker he and Roy had been speaking about in almost a year, but the place in which Dave served his community service sentence was the same in which the unrequited love of his life, Willow, brought her daughter, Zoe, to stay when she had to go to work.
Ever since Dave had reduced Willow's ex-husband to a comatose pulp for the abuses he put her and their child through, she had never come to visit Dave once, nor spoken to him again, and when Dave was luckily assigned to serve his probation for good behavior in the same place in which his trouble had begun—courtesy of a judge trusting him and his gentleman-like attitude—Dave and Willow had finally met again. But she hadn't even looked at him in the eyes once.
He wasn't angry with her; Dave knew Willow since they were children; she had never asked for help, nor had she asked for his help, she probably wanted to get out of her troubles on her own, but Dave had acted out of instinct and defended her as he had always done.
Now, staring at suspicious movement around the entertainment center in which the trouble had first arisen, the first thought that passed through Dave's mind was that Willow's ex-husband had come back to check on little sleeping Zoe because kids were still sleeping, especially at that hour, every judicious parent would know that.
David was a new-age gentleman, usually uncaring about pretty much anything that wasn't related to protecting people that couldn't defend themselves, but his traits accentuated especially when it came to Willow and Zoe. So, he would not allow that man to lay his hands on them ever again; even if he had to end up in the gaol one more time, he would teach that man another lesson.
Adrenaline started to pump in his veins, so Dave abandoned the pint on the ground, then burst into a run, crossing the street in a few seconds, then flinging himself in the alley at the side of the center.
"Dave! Where 'you going, mate? It's not free-drink day today!" Roy shouted back, his bat pointing at the sky. Yeah, David wasn't listening anymore.
***
The Sun had already engulfed the alley in shadow, but the figure wearing a –definitely out of style– hood that covered his body entirely was a damn giant.
"You're no wanker…" Dave whispered to himself, surprised.
He was taken aback, but he was curious; he wanted to see what that weird figure was doing near the windows of the entertainment center, so he stared at him.
The massive man was forcing his way through the window, spying something, then literally folding the metal bars that protected the window with his bare hands; he placed his head inside of the gap to take a better look.
"Bloody hell..."
The whisper coming from Dave shook the intruder, who turned to look at the surprised man. Dave's eyebrows shot up, for the face he was looking at was definitely not the face of a Human. Yet the creature, that he had no idea how to define it if not using that terminology turned around and started running.
Dave had never been one to refuse a challenge; most of his troubles had come for that very trait of his personality. But he needed to know what such a dangerous thing was doing by trying to spy on a child entertainment center. David also had his trusted folding knife with him. He only carried it as a means to deter more than for defense, and it worked, but something told him that he might have to use it this time.
So, sure of himself, with his adrenalin-fueled body, and basking in his superior morality, Dave followed the creature.
The pursuit was short-lived, for as soon as David turned the corner, he saw the creature standing still, hand placed on the wall, the weirdly colored and slitted eyes Dave had seen before were closed.
David charged at him, "Stay there!" He shouted, yet what happened next was something he could not expect.
A dark, ethereal gaseous substance immediately colored the wall on which the hooded thing's hand rested, and the creature's hand sank into it.
The situation had become a bit too weird even for Dave's standards, but he was running too fast to just stop like that, and he was way too close. That was why when he braked, he ended up toppling on the creature, pushing both of them inside of the weird substance that had covered the wall.
What happened later was undefinable.
***
Dave and the creatures fell through a world made of many dark colors; black reigned supreme, but clouds of purple, blue, and deep red were there too.
The creature was falling away ahead of David, looking at him stupefied—or so David thought—reading a devil-looking thing's expression wasn't exactly what he was used to.
When their trip through the weird tunnel of colors stopped, and the impact came, Dave blacked out for a few moments. A lot of things happened after that, and all in quick succession.
The sky he was looking at was dark, with purple-looking clouds; he lay down with his back to the cold ground.
It was cold, much colder than it was supposed to be during the Summer, even for London fare zone 3, but most importantly, he couldn't breathe.
His chest ached, his eyes hurt, he was suffocating. But then something manifested in front of his vision; he could both hear and read—at the same time—whatever unearthly message the vision wanted to communicate to him.
The Source
New life form located.
New life form is a sapient.
New life form needs to be Baptized.
Fetching Birth Box.
The Source
You have received (1) Birth Box.
The Source
New life form - Species: Human is unnamed. Your name will be given to you by your parents or the first person that asks for your name.
The Source
New life form has received the Blessing of The Source (Unique).