Mark walked under a lightless night.
He was frankly still in fright.
His head shifted quickly from left to right.
Watching for pursuers, his fists clenched tight.
Sighing, he forced himself to relax. Looking so frantic wasn't going to help him much.
He muttered to himself.
"Those military men better not be pursuing."
Now that he was away from his comrades, the pressure of being alone in the treacherous streets suddenly became worrying.
Sure, he could fight one person, two at a time wasn't too bad either. An inexperienced group of three could be handled. But if some trio of military men or gang members were to ambush him, he would either run or die trying.
The memory of being held hostage still played in his mind. If that callous man wasn't trying to make an example of him to the two recruits, he would have died there.
Mark silenced his steps. Someone was approaching.
He stopped and reached for his Luger. His mind stretched out as the air turned menacingly cold.
"Stop right there."
The figure frantically raised his hands.
"Wait- Mark, it's me!"
Mark blinked.
"Oh, Aaron... How's patrol going?"
They walked forward to meet each other while the mood suddenly became much lighter, almost as if it were forced. As soon as they saw each other, the tensions were fully erased.
"Aside from you coming out of nowhere and scaring the hell out of me, things were pretty damn good-"
His eyes landed on Mark's visage.
"What happened to you?
Mark raised his hand and reached for his face, but the swelling pain on his chin made itself apparent.
"Oh right, we got into a little fight not so long ago. This one was friendly fire though."
Aaron frowned.
"At the factory? No, things aren't that bad yet."
He rubbed his bald head- though hair was starting to grow again, they looked more like specks rather than strands.
"Tell me who did it."
Mark nodded.
"One of them was in the Spheks, don't know about the others."
Aaron paled.
"What?"
It was surprising to see him so shocked. Mark rarely saw him get so worked up.
"Yeah, he had a coin pierced through in the-"
He felt two hands grab his shoulders with crippling intensity. Stretching his mind out, the grasp slightly softened but remained tight.
"Where did it happen? Tell me everything you know."
Mark recalled how they encountered the four scoundrels in the eastern district and ended up fighting them before being driven away by the military.
Aaron let go of him and frustratingly sighed.
"They should still be preoccupied with controlling the central district... why are they already there!?"
Watching his friend mutter to himself, Mark silently stood still. His eyes wandered around as he didn't want to rudely stare, but there wasn't much to see save for the abysmally murky darkness.
After maybe a minute of delicate quietude, Aaron eventually broke out of his agitated trance. It would have taken longer if Mark hadn't used his ability to forcefully agitate his emotions.
He patted Mark on the shoulder and crookedly smiled.
"Thanks for telling me. This will surely help you gain the boss' favor."
Mark smiled
"Of course."
He then continued walking home.
...
Opening the door to the familiar house, he walked into the familiarly lightless room.
Taking his shoes off, Mark stretched and checked around for any danger.
"Welcome back! How was work?"
An obnoxious voice resounded through the deathly quiet.
'Oh. She's here.'
He grumbled and continued forward, knowing that his mother was likely asleep- sober or not.
"It was fine."
The voice only grew more obnoxious.
"No need to be so cold, now. Are you hungry? There are some leftovers in the fridge."
A short, aged woman slowly made her way to him. Mark was thankful that his face was concealed by the darkness, because on it was a glare that threatened to freeze the world.
"I should go and sleep. Work will be extra hard tomorrow."
Mark began to walk but stopped right as he passed the side of the woman.
Rather, a wrinkly hand- revolting to the touch, grabbed his wrist and feebly tried to squeeze it.
"You shouldn't be this rude to your aunt. Who do you think is letting you live here anyway? It's because I love you all so much that there is a roof over your heads."
Gritting his teeth, Mark stretched his mind while forcing himself to relax.
"Sorry, of course, I'm grateful for everything you've done for us. Please forgive me for making you think otherwise."
His aunt smiled.
"I know you didn't mean it. Anyway, where were you all this time? We both thought you were dead."
'Yeah right.'
That was a lie. She had to know he was alive somehow. Mom didn't care enough to tell her a single thing, but she probably had all sorts of connections.
If his aunt knew that he died, she wouldn't have fed his mother for the time that he was gone.
He smiled the best he could, but it felt disgusting. The feeling was like eating sludge and trying to say that it tasted good rather than retching it out.
"I got drafted into the army. Somehow came back alive."
Stretching his mind out, he made his words sound more believable and watched as her face contorted in annoyance.
"Ok. Anything else? If not, you know what to do."
Mark held back a sigh.
"Alright."
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the wallet he just stole.
After glancing at it for a moment, he indifferently tossed it to her.
One interesting thing about his aunt is that despite her being old and slow in many ways, she always becomes lively when money is at stake.
She caught the wallet and hastily looked through the notes and coins.
"That's all?"
Mark tilted his head.
"What do you mean by that?"
He was sure the money in there covered the rent he missed and then even had some more.
"All the food I bought for your mother! You need to pay for that too!"
A vein bulged on his head.
"Ah, ok."
She clicked her tongue and headed to the door.
"I'll be back."
Mark didn't send her off.
He watched silently as the short figure left the house.
Then listened as her footsteps turned as quiet as a mouse.
"Goddamned miser."