After a while, Selin went back down. She couldn't handle the cold the way Marlo could. He'd watched her leave. She hadn't spoken much since they'd shared names, yet for the first time in three weeks he'd truly seen her, more than a struggling street urchin. Marlo let out a sigh and went back to thinking about his channels and centre. His passive abilities were fine enough. Activating the others seemed hell-bent on killing him. He couldn't just guess his way into it. He needed guidance. Information. A bloody manual.
The streets he roamed were full of vulgar talk, people spilling useless information like drunk men spilling beer. He should've planned more. No time for regret now. He stood, closed his eyes, and felt the buildings around and beneath him. Selin and the boy, in their home. The position of boulders, the cold ring of metal pipes. He stepped to the ridge without opening his eyes. He didn't know the height, but he could feel the ground below, sense the empty patch clear of clutter or rubble. He thought on it a moment, then leapt.
Three, maybe four seconds in the air. He landed light, right where he meant, bones barely feeling it. Didn't stop. Already sprinting before the dust could rise. Fast. Faster than he'd ever been, here or in his old world. He hadn't been much for running; hadn't been much for walking either, but now he felt the wind batter his face and pushed straight through it. When he hit a wall, he had to fight to stop himself, cracks spidering across it like lightning. Stone breaking like ice. A moment later, the building they'd called home was far behind.
Marlo grinned, excitement bubbling. His heart beat steady, not as fast as it should after a run like that. No exhaustion, no muscle burn, no heat in his chest even after nearly an hour of the same. By the time he stopped, he'd run deep into the city. Then he cursed. In the rush he'd forgotten to be careful about being seen. He slowed to a normal walk.
It wasn't quiet, but it was dark. Drunkards laughing, someone hollering in the distance. He was aware, more aware, of everything around him. Thinking on it, he'd always avoided the inner city at night. It somehow felt more alive than during the day. Not in a good way.
"Look at you…" The voice rasped like it had been trapped halfway through a cough. Marlo had already sensed them—two of them—before the words came. One skinny, almost as thin as Marlo himself. The other not quite big-bodied, but carrying more fat than a man should have out here. He'd felt the weight of their steps, seen the shapes of them in his mind without looking.
"Don't run off," the skinny one said. "We have a… proposition." Marlo could swear there was a grin in the words. They stepped into view, ragged and greedy, just as expected. "You've been out here long enough. Surely you'd want a week or two of meals." They loomed over him, but he wasn't half as scared as he might've been three days ago.
"Four buildings down," the skinny one went on, arms spread wide, smile like the kind a man wears before he gets punched in the mouth. "There's a terrible… businessman. Uses kids. Some younger than you."
"Disgusting!" the fat one spat, overdone and theatrical. Bad acting, Marlo thought.
"Help us," the skinny one said, "and we'll bring the Man's justice to him." Not the priests' Man, but the universal one. The priests preached breaking earthly tethers. Most others believed in indulging them, human nature, after all. There'd been a war over it, if Marlo remembered right. The priests had won, but the other faith had crawled back, strong as ever.
Marlo studied them. They looked like they'd wait forever for his answer, not force him. Stupid, he thought. If I've been out here this long, why would I fall for that? But maybe to them, a child's a child and a meal's a meal.
He felt like he could spit in a king's face and walk away smiling. Maybe this was what the other awakened felt. He pushed the thought down.
"A week's worth of food, you said?" Marlo made himself smaller. The men's grins widened.
"Two," said the skinny one.
The fat one clapped. "Alright, come along. We'll pretend to be sellers. If he goes through with the trade, we'll have his confession."
Marlo followed. Slowly, the smile faded. He thought about it, realized he'd never fought before. Not even in school. I'm strong enough, just make sure my punches land. Bones will break, he told himself.
They left the alley. Nobody paid them much mind. A gaze here and there, that was all. Laughter, distant shrieks, bad perfume, music in the air. Not much different from his old world. He'd judged people who lived like this, though it had been more jealousy than morals.
He smelled the place before they reached it. The signs didn't bother hiding what it was. People went in and out like it was normal. The building was worn and stank of piss, vomit, and beer. A bald man stood at the door, taller than anyman Marlo had seen. He let them pass without a word.
Marlo's doubts grew. Why was he here? What did he expect to accomplish? Could he? The two men looked harder now, like they'd carved their way out of the womb with a knife. He felt their pressure, the promise of casual violence.
The smell inside hit harder. Moans hung in the air. Some in the open, naked men and women tangled together. Someone whistled. "Bring him up when he's clean." Laughter followed. Marlo's heart hammered. I've never even fought.
The fat man put a hand on his shoulder, gave him a nod. The bad acting was gone now. Marlo almost felt he could rely on him. "Let's go," the man said, voice flat. Marlo thought of running. His feet carried him forward instead.
They climbed the stairs to the right of the door, past another guard. Upstairs, the wood creaked underfoot like it was singing his doom. Sweat ran down his back worse than at noon. The fat man stayed behind him, hand still on his shoulder, while the skinny one led.
Another door. Two guards this time. They stopped the three of them. One guard knocked. Marlo could swear it echoed like cathedral bells. The guard slipped inside, spoke to someone, then stepped out and beckoned them with two fingers.
Inside. The door slammed shut behind. Marlo realized he hadn't touched his spatial sense all this time. He reached for it now. It steadied him. Sounds from outside dulled. The room was well-lit but windowless. A large ebony desk. Two chairs to match. Three men inside, one behind the desk, two seated.
"The two of you finally brought something decent," said the man behind the desk. Marlo's eyes met his.