Upon waking, Ragnes looked around him, confused.
He had slept poorly and strode quickly through the city. He remembered planting a knife in the bar and wanted to see if the place remained untouched when no one was around. He entered the bar, found no one there, and saw the knife embedded in the floor.
He began to wonder why he had left the group and if the group would welcome him back. He was afraid. Afraid of something, of his enemies who were coming. But logically, whether he was in a group or alone, it wouldn't change anything: the goblins had firearms and the others had armors resistant to steel – logically.
He wondered what to do in a moment of contemplation but decided to go home. He walked, fearing the moment, looking around, ears alert. It was necessary, if he were to die, that the other versions of himself know the time - this thought disgusted him and he erased it immediately. He was his body, not his mind.
He arrived at an apartment door, entered the code, then went in with his keys. There was a small room, really small, less than ten square meters, with a few clothes hanging, all identical, and a bed, with a computer and a bathroom.
The kitchen was directly connected to his sleeping area. That was all. He had saved money by renting a ground floor apartment, less popular for some humidity reasons. He paid relatively little for it and invested all his savings in the stock market.
It had been the right choice, of course, no matter the outcome. Who could have predicted what had happened? Not him, no one could predict this tragedy, if he were to be reborn a few moments before, just a few hours, the time to sell and buy products ... no... given the slowness of his bank, it would have taken him a few days.
He thought back to his past. He wondered if his family was okay. He didn't hate them, he loved them roughly, in fact, he felt good next to them, but he didn't really find their presence useful. They were people with thoughts that differed greatly from his mentality of saving, they were entertainment people, surely more intelligent than him, because for one thing they were right: he sought longevity while the craved happiness. But he preferred two aces than one coin in his hand. Because one wasn't enough.
He collapsed on his bed, thought, then, after a few moments, retracted and unloaded his thoughts in his room. Then, he took his lance and a heavy coat, and searched in all parts of the apartments, starting with the concierge's office.
He went there, broke down the door using consequential force, and after a few long minutes. No one had comedespite the noise he had made. He entered the small, messier room, smaller than his own, and found pity in the old woman who lived there, half mad.
He went to her keychain - she kept duplicates of almost half the people who rented by giving her a small amount. He took the keys and went to see the apartments one by one.
He had heard that there was a firearm for a few tenants, so he would find one if he continued to search and search. It wasn't that rare. It was at the end of his third building; at the end of that day, that he saw a firearm that he took.
He remembered the place, then tried to see how it worked. There had to be a safety catch. He fired into the courtyard to make sure once he understood the operation and indeed succeeded. The noise of the shot surprised him, and he thought he was going to wear a helmet, or his ears would explode. If the invaders were there, they would have heard him, and could possibly head towards him.
Besides, where were the police and the others? They seemed to have been separated by this cloud. If he returned, maybe hiding with policemen, the closest ones might be a solution. Maybe after the call they would be overwhelmed by people, but it didn't matter. People were strength . Not by controlling them – like people who saved others just to control them by obligation, by using the child inside them. He didn't have to impress others to gain their favor. Each relationship had to be one of interest, and if they wanted to manipulate him with a rescue, they wouldn't succeed.
He only had one master and it was himself, his body, the one that had given him everything. He returned home and slept.