Legend of the Scale 1.2

Down the street, almost to where he planned on turning off, a bum caught his attention by yanking on his jacket sleeve. Trako jerked his arm away, spinning to face the bum with clenched fists without thinking.

The old man, someone who looked a tinge familiar to him, smiled his toothy grin—displaying a sign that said: Homeless. Anything helps. Trako glanced at the crooked sign first, and then at the wrinkled face, towering over the old man as he liked to do when he had height on his side.

“Yes?” He took a step back. Not too close. “What do you need?”

“Some change, bud.” The old man turned an eye towards him, peering up through foggy and cracked and dirty glasses. He nudged a pair of headphones into his ears and pressed play on some contraption tied to his belt to slam rock music into his ears and all around. Pointing to the sign, he nodded. “Anything helps. I need my beer.”

Trako shoved his hands in his pockets, mumbling a few almost inaudible words under his breath. The bum shrugged at his frail excuses and flashed him a peace out before turning away. Trako never knew what to say or what to do, even when it was obvious. Words always escaped him.

He turned the corner before the bum could assault him with more requests, taking the adjacent street. Everything was a jig saw puzzle, having a definite pattern you could follow, but still so complicated and twisty-turning that he still became lost. He only hoped the scrolvs shared his difficulty. With the night so close now, twilight already having settled upon the city, he would be relying on his senses and the dim street-lights of Parinol to guide the way.

He checked the time—8:00

The narrow road, squashed in-between the backside of two buildings, held no people. The only proof of their passing displayed itself in the trash spewed across the pavement. Trako didn’t even want to know what decayed beneath the torn plastic.

The street ended as fast as it began, jutting into a four-lane highway to tie into a sidewalk running alongside. Trako crept out past the shadows of the alleyway, and looked both ways. Lots of cars raced past, headlights blinding him with each pass, but no scrolvs. Or at least that he could see. With the dark as their friend, they were invisible to his eyes.

But during the night, something else became visible.

As much as he hated the downtown, as much as he detested the busy-busy environment and the constant racket, he held a deep appreciation for the nightly display. While it was manmade, and while it blocked out any stars he could have seen elsewhere, the lights of the city were still a sight to behold. Rows and rows of lights waved out to him, stretching on forever like a never-ending string of led bulbs to fade into the distance. So many buildings. So many lights. Skyscrapers stretched up as if they yearned to touch the clouds, and he could just see their dim glares twinkling down—the star replacements.

Three skyscrapers dominated the heights of Parinol. Towering over even the Capital Building, far off in the distance, stood the three skyscrapers which bore the symbol of their country, and what their greatest accomplishment had ever been. People drove across deserts and flew across oceans to see the image in the sky.

Pools of lights wove in and across the huge buildings like a monstrous fill-in-the-dots drawing from a child’s coloring book. The red and white colors crossed over and intertwined as they formed the giant beast. A dragon suspended with its wings spread blazed, eager to release its fiery power onto the city below. It was the symbol of their greatest accomplishment—or so Trako had been told. The extinction of the accursed dragon race.

He nodded in acknowledgement. Yes, it was a pretty picture, but he needed to move. And continue to move. Standing where he was, he could have been holding a sign saying: kill me here. The scrolvs had to know where he was.

Stumbling over the curb someone had placed in his way, he walked along the narrow sidewalk until he reached the intersection. Green light—time to go. He didn’t walk across. He ran. Too many times had the scrolvs attempted to take him out when crossing the street. Not pleasant. Once he was on the other side, he breathed easier.

He checked the time—8:10

What was taking them so long? A part of him exhaled in relief that they hadn’t assaulted him yet, but the other side shivered in anxiety, knowing there was a reason for their absence. After months of the same treatment night after night, wondering how he would live through to the next day, it seemed more than odd that they weren’t there. And he hadn’t avoided them well enough for them to not catch on. In that aspect, they were like hounds, keen on the scent of wary prey.

The next street concealed the life beyond, shadows of shapes and sketches of buildings making up the picture. Behind him, the car and street lamps glared. Above him, the lights of the city illuminated all else. Before him, there was nothing except a shroud of darkness to show the way. But Trako could walk through this road in pitch black, knowing it like the back of his hand. Literally. He’d markered a map of the area on it so he would know the quickest escape routes.

He slid his fingers together, rubbing them in circles. Sparks dropped like flashing dust to the ground. Reminders and past events flashed through his mind, each sending their flag of warning. No lights. No fire. Jamming his fingers into his pockets, he mumbled under his breath. Contained inside the jeans, his hands no longer contained the intense urge to flare with flame. But everything else did.

Call it insane. Call it crazed. Call it amazing. Trako knew it was something much more than that. He knew his ability was something which drove the scrolvs to torture his mind and kill his body, one day at a time. Even without being told why they followed him night after night, ambushing him with whatever cunning they possessed, he knew why they wanted to kill him. Unlike the other millions of people in Parinol, he didn’t fit inside a box. They sought to rid the world his anomaly. Such a valiant endeavor.

He took the street. There was nowhere else to go, anyway. Behind him would already be scoured over by scrolvs. This short alleyway would end soon enough.

He checked the time—8:17

Something was wrong. They should have been here a half-hour ago.

Trako squinted through the darkness. Not even shadows were visible here. The black oozed about him, creeping into his thoughts and tainting what he couldn’t see. Shapes grew from the shrouded beyond, twisted in shapes so like scrolvs, he almost leapt back—flame at command. But he continued to walk through, repeating in his mind you’re alone you’re alone you’re alone. Guided by his intuition and his remembrance of where everything was, he felt the steel trash bin feet beside him, hearing the water dripping from the gutters above.

Another few steps and he knew he would need to turn. Taking the ninety degree corner, he saw the faint lights of the city.

Walking this street was like spanning the intermediary of two different worlds. This side felt of a different atmosphere. Even the air smelled cleaner. The houses were more like palaces, the size of a row of apartment buildings from the side Trako had just come from. Quaint street lights lined each road, illuminating each perfectly manicured lawn like showcases out on display.

He checked the time—9:19

Perhaps they’d—

Something snapped from behind him, a light crackling disturbing the quiet where he’d been moments before. Footsteps. Spinning around, his fists already crackling with the heat of a furnace, he searched the blackness. Nothing. The only thing he could see was the beginning of the road, and the side of the brick as the building rose. He shrugged and turned back to the city, swallowing the warnings telling him to continue searching.

He saw a flash of color—possibly red? And then heard a loud crack from surprisingly close to him, sounding as though it was from on top of him. But no matter how much he tried to turn and look, he couldn’t. His vision grew blurred. His head screamed in pain. But only for half a second.

His picture slipped into darkness and he slumped to the asphalt.