The streets of Babylon buzzed with the energy of a new day. The twin suns had just risen, casting a golden light over the ancient stone buildings lining the thoroughfares. Merchants set up their stalls, the scents of exotic spices and fresh bread mingling in the morning air. The city was a blend of ancient tradition and futuristic innovation—hovercrafts hummed above cobblestone streets, and digital billboards flickered alongside the temples. Despite the technological gadgets used by the people, the buildings themselves remained simple and unadorned, most constructed from clay or stone. This stark simplicity extended to the various facilities scattered throughout the city, a juxtaposition of old and new that defined Babylon's uniqueness.
Hollow moved with a predator's gaze, his eyes locked onto his target—a nervous-looking man who moved quickly through the crowds. This man was the first piece of the puzzle, the lead that would guide Hollow deeper into the conspiracy he was unraveling.
The man turned down a narrow alleyway, glancing over his shoulder as he walked. Hollow followed at a distance, his movements smooth and silent. The alley led to an inconspicuous door, barely noticeable among the weathered stone walls. The target paused, looking around one last time before pressing a hidden switch. The door slid open with a mechanical hiss, and the man slipped inside.
Hollow waited a few moments before approaching the door. He scanned the area, ensuring he wasn't being watched, then activated the hidden switch. The door opened silently, revealing a dimly lit staircase descending into the depths of the city: the black market.
The black market was a stark contrast to the vibrant life above. The underground area stretched for kilometers, an expansive network of tunnels and chambers teeming with shady figures and illicit activity. The target moved confidently through the zone, passing by stalls and shops that sold everything from forbidden technologies to rare artifacts.
Hollow kept his distance, blending into the shadows as he followed the man deeper into the underworld. The air was thick with the scent of cigarettes and alcohol, and the low hum of hushed conversations filled the space. This was a world of secrets and dangers, where trust was a rare commodity.
Eventually, the target stopped at a small shop tucked away in a corner of the market. The shop was unremarkable, but the owner—a burly man with a scar running down his cheek—exuded an air of authority. Hollow watched as his target engaged in a quiet but urgent conversation with the shop owner.
"Is the shipment ready?" the target asked, his voice tense.
The shop owner nodded. "It'll be at the Babylon Tower by tomorrow morning. Everything's in place."
Hollow's eyes narrowed. The mention of the Babylon Tower piqued his interest. This was no ordinary shipment; whatever was being transported had to be significant. He edged closer, ensuring he could hear every word without drawing attention to himself.
"Good," the target replied. "This needs to go smoothly. No mistakes."
The shop owner grunted in agreement. "Don't worry. My people know what they're doing."
Hollow committed every detail to memory, his mind already working through the implications of what he had overheard. The shipment was due tomorrow, and it involved the Babylon Tower—a place of power and influence. Whatever was happening, it was important enough to warrant secrecy and precision.
As the target finished his business and exited the shop, Hollow kept his distance, seamlessly blending into the flow of the crowd. Suddenly, he spotted a familiar face in the distance—Elyas. What is he doing here of all places? Hollow thought, a rare flicker of surprise crossing his stoic expression.
Before he could react, Elyas's eyes widened in recognition. "Mister Hollow!" he shouted, waving directly at him. The target, alerted by the commotion, turned back and locked eyes with its pursuer. Realization dawned in an instant, and the man bolted, escaping the dark underworld through the stairs he had descended a while ago.
Hollow sprang into action, muscles tensing as he broke into a run following the man into the overworld. He maneuvered through the maze of market stalls, vaulting over obstacles with feline grace, his gaze locked on the fleeing figure ahead.
The narrow streets twisted and turned, disorienting the average traveler, but Hollow's mind mapped every twist and turn with calculating precision. People scattered, shouting in alarm as the chase tore through the marketplace like a raging storm.
The target knocked over crates and shoved past pedestrians, creating a trail of chaos in his wake. Wooden splinters and exotic spices filled the air, assaulting Hollow's senses. But he remained focused, dodging the debris with effortless agility.
"Hey, watch it!" a gruff vendor bellowed as his wares were scattered by the fleeing man's wake. Hollow leapt over the fallen merchandise with ease.
Elyas, caught up in the turmoil, tried to keep pace with the pursuit. "Mister Hollow, wait!" he called out, his voice lost amidst the chaos.
Hollow's determination burned bright, his breaths steady and controlled. He closed in on his quarry, the distance between them shrinking with every heartbeat. The target glanced back, panic etched on his face as he realized his pursuers were relentless.
People flattened themselves against the walls, throwing curses as the pair tore past.
"Maniacs! You'll pay for this!" an elderly woman shook her fist, her baskets of spices overturned.
The target plowed forward, indifferent of the destruction and angry shouts echoing in his wake.
The chase led them through winding alleys, the ancient stone walls seeming to close in around them. The air grew thick with the scent of spices and sweat, mingling with the tang of fear.
Hollow's footsteps pounded against the cobblestones, his focus unwavering.
Suddenly, the target darted into a crowded square, dodging between market stalls and startled vendors.
Hollow spotted an opportunity. With a burst of speed, he leaped onto a nearby rooftop, his cloak billowing behind him.
From his vantage point, he tracked the target's erratic movements, watching as the man weaved through the bustling streets below. Hollow moved with a veteran's stealth, his footsteps barely making a sound as he followed the prey's frantic path across the rooftops.
Down below, the target's panic grew, his breaths ragged.
He glanced over his shoulder, searching for his pursuer, unaware of the predator watching from above. With a final burst of speed, he ducked into a narrow alley, thinking he had evaded his hunter.
But Hollow was one step ahead. With a calculated leap, he descended from the rooftop, landing firmly in the alley below. The target's eyes widened in terror as the hunter's imposing figure blocked his only escape route.
Hollow closed in on his cornered quarry, the man's desperation palpable in the air, a sense of impending doom hung heavy in the narrow alley.
The man's eyes shook in terror as he realized the gravity of his situation, trapped like a cornered animal with no escape in sight.
His pursuer's presence was intimidating, his expression inscrutable as he approached the man, step by step.
With a voice that echoed with authority, Hollow's question pierced the tense silence of the alley,
"Who do you work for?" Hollow's voice was low, laced with quiet menace.
The target's response was a chilling smirk, a twisted defiance born of desperation and powerlessness.
In a sudden, desperate act, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small pill, swallowing it with a hesitant determination.
"Live the king! " exclaimed the man, with a defiant smirk.
Petty last words.
For a beat, there was only deafening silence between them. Then, the man's body convulsed violently as he gasped for air, clawing at his throat. A sickly purple foam bubbled from his lips as his eyes rolled back.
As the target's life faded before him, Hollow's expression remained unchanged, his features betraying only a hint of disappointment at the abrupt end to their confrontation.
For him, the man's death was a vain rebellion, it was but a weed in a seamlessly smooth road.
The dying man's limbs flailed helplessly before he collapses to the ground, unmoving.
In the distance, Elyas slid into the alley entrance, his eyes widening in horror at the lifeless form before him.
"Wh-what happened?" he stuttered, struggling to process the violent act.
Hollow's gaze flickered briefly to the boy before returning to the body at his feet.
"He chose death." His tone was devoid of emotion, chilling in its detachment.
Elyas swallowed thickly, nausea churning in his gut. He opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but the words died on his lips as Hollow turned his penetrating stare upon him.
"You should not have followed, boy." Hollow stated flatly.
The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air as Hollow stepped over the corpse, his cloak whipping behind him as he approached Elyas, his footsteps echoing like death knells in the confined space of the alley.
The boy shrank back against a stone wall, his eyes wide with terror.
Elyas's mind raced, and the pieces started to click together into a horrifying realization: the incredible fighting skills, the relentless pursuit, the cold-blooded killing he has just witnessed - Hollow was no ordinary man, he concluded, he was an assassin, a bringer of death cloaked in shadows.
And now those shadows seemed to be closing in on Elyas himself.
The boy's breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling uncontrollably as Hollow loomed ever closer. He pressed himself against the unforgiving stone, as if willing the wall to swallow him whole and provide an escape from this nightmare.
Elyas opened his mouth, desperate pleas for his life forming on his lips.
But as Hollow loomed closer, his features softened ever so slightly, a flicker of concern passing over his stoic facade.
Elyas's pleas died in his throat as Hollow reached out and gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
The gesture was unexpectedly paternal, a contrast to the lethal aura Hollow had exuded moments before.
"A boy your age should not have to witness such scenes," Hollow said, his deep voice tinged with a strange melancholy.
Elyas blinked, his terror giving way to bewilderment and confusion.
This was not the cold-blooded killer he had imagined.
"I...I don't understand," Elyas stammered, his slim frame still pressed against the wall.
"Who are you?"
Hollow's penetrating gaze held the boy in place, but there was no malice in his eyes, only a weariness that spoke of burdens none should have to bear.
"You should go home" he finally said, turning and sweeping his cloak out of the alley without another word.
Elyas could only stare after him, his mind reeling from the recent events.
The crushing dread that had gripped him mere moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a maelstrom of unanswered questions.
Who was this enigmatic figure? And what drove him to such extremes?
With shaky steps, he followed Hollow out of the alley, determined to find answers for his urgent questions.
__________________________________________________
Hollow has just left the scene, irritated by the man's decision to die rather than to speak.
"Wait!" Elyas called out, scrambling to catch up with Hollow's long strides.
"Who are you? Why did you kill that man?"
Hollow paused, turning to face Elyas with an inscrutable expression.
"I did not kill him," he stated flatly. "He died by his own hand, swallowing some pill."
Elyas absorbed this revelation, his brow furrowing.
"Are you...are you some kind of space mercenary then?" He had heard whispers of such hired guns operating throughout the cosmos, their lethal talents employed for various operations on alien worlds.
"You could say that," Hollow replied, unwilling to reveal his true identity.
"Are you here to kill someone?" Elyas pressed on, his curiosity mingling with a hint of apprehension.
Hollow stopped, turned to face the boy with a serious expression, then stated as if a fact,
"If needed."
...