Elsewhere

CHAPTER 2: City of haze

The two scouts were patrolling the streets of the old city, but the thick and disorienting haze caused them to wander around more than thoroughly supervise the alleys as they were instructed to. Completely unable to tell where they were and where they were going, they repeatedly bumped into fences, gates, and streetlamps, tripping over steps and holes.
In order to pull themselves together and appear at least a bit professional, they wisely decided to get rid of the map and proceed to find their bearings by feeling the walls around, instead of trying unsuccessfully to see them. Above all, they just really wanted to close their eyes, since the bitter and misty cold seemed to take pleasure in torturing their skin.

-We are lost...again.- Whispered the younger, in a grunt of complaint, lowering the hood over his face and trembling despite the heavy cloak.

The other man didn't bother to answer: they'd better keep it quiet, to avoid undesired attention. He could feel it: hidden eyes were spying on them.
Where he could see literally nothing through the dark fog, the eyes of the city seemed perfectly able to viscously check every one of their steps, making him feel more and more observed, even rejected, by every shadow and every door suddenly shot closed.

"This City truly despises us." He thought, with a sigh. "Not that I blame her...Couvre-feu? Extra patrols? No doubts she hates us."
Those measures were nonetheless enforced for everyone's safety, but whom was he kidding? They surely deserved that rough treatment, for they were depriving the City of half of her life, forbidding any activity past dusk. 
"Still, it would be nice to know where we are, for a change." He puffed, leaning a hand against the brick wall, which told him nothing about their position if not that they were lost in the suburbs... again.

All of a sudden, a sound broke the padded silence, startling them.
-Wait...Did you hear that?- Asked the boy, opening his eyes wide to look around – and instantly regretting it, as little icy drops of humidity climbed his eyelashes.
Even the man's eyes opened for a second, in a glimpse of disbelief. "No one with any sense would be out this late." He sighed, refusing to higher his gaze.
-Keep going.- He asserted, reinforcing the hold on his subordinate's shoulder, to make him move.

The boy hadn't moved the first step and the sound repeated, louder, like a distant but desperate wail.
-We should...-
"...run away from this while we still can." The man completed within himself, forcing his body to stay put and not run away from that thing. That sound meant trouble, he knew it, but as much he would have liked to ignore it, duty was duty after all, and when the crying repeated once again he was forced to obey his principles.

-Well then: just a quick check. Go ahead.- He whispered, resigned, pushing the boy toward the entry of the dark alley.

In the fogged dark they could barely see anything. Kneeling on the ground and searching around with his hands – for Earth's sake, their eyes were completely useless - the boy finally found the source of the sound: an old torn cover, under which a trembling creature was crying feebly. He was about to remove the blanket, when the wails suddenly stopped, dropping the two scouts into complete and petrifying silence.
Then, without a single rustle, a grey-pale and fragile little hand slid out of the cover, reaching out to them. And even if the silence was absolute, the boy felt a shiver running down his back, so loud was that muted scream for help.
The cold unforgiving Winter had almost killed that creature, turning them into a ghost, but something under that grazed skin was still alive... barely.

The boy wanted to help, but he couldn't even attempt a move, deeply stuck between his survival instinct to run away and his superiors' order to reinforce the law by any possible means.
Seeing that his subordinate couldn't overcome the same quandary he was stuck into – were they supposed to help someone who disobeyed the law? – the man finally decided to step ahead, slowly approaching the small shivering body. Then he gently – almost as if there was fear behind that slowness – grabbed the pale hand.

"Nothing good will come out of this, but we can't let them die here." And hoping that to be the right decision, whilst being the more compromising for his carrier, he held the creature into his arms, leading back to the Station.

-Let's go back.-
-Yes, 4!- Answered the boy, finally snapping out of his paralysis and jumping up to follow him. -But...which direction?- He then had to ask, at the corner, completely lost in the haze.

The man had closed his eyes once again, almost sadly, but his voice was determined when he spoke: he needed to pretend to have an unquestionable answer.
-Right.- "Praying that's the right way home."

Fortunately, the haze softened its hold around them, on the way back, as if it was content with what happened. The creature the City was protecting was finally in much safer hands.

When they finally approached the Station, the fog had almost risen, revealing the signs of the shops, the tracks, and the useless streetlamps lit on the platform. The lamplighter would have passed to turn them off in a few hours. They had to hurry.
4 approached a bulletin board and quickly skimmed some posters: one, a year old now, invited all Terriens to attend the new ballroom's opening, right downtown. The eyes of the two dancers, all frills, feathers, and beads, stared at him with no emotion, under their tidy bobs, as if they were tired of standing there advertising an always empty place. No shows were allowed in the evening anymore. The others were just alerts, announcements, and official notifications, distributed by the Institute.

"I will regret this." He hissed to himself, scrolling his head with frustration and discomfort. "Nothing good will come out of this".
-Just in time. - The boy distracted him, stretching out to look at the oncoming Train.

Time to leave that City of Haze.