Intoxicate [❌]

1 - Visions

[Anatox]

The condition I have isn't some normal disease or defect. I don't know what it is. I just... woke up one day, and I was like this.

I can recall a few things from beforehand. Playing in the woods, my parents watching from the side. The explosion, the explosion that, surprisingly, didn't destroy my eardrums. Screams, screams of pain. From me, my parents.

And then... nothing.

One thing I do know: my eyes weren't glowing green beforehand. That's a new thing. I mean, kind of cool, not gonna lie, but also a bit inconvenient when I'm trying to not be seen in the dark. And I could sleep. It felt good to sleep, to rest. To not vomit acid blood every five minutes when I'm trying to stay still. To not always feel this endless fatigue that I know will never go away.

I miss those days. But I can never go back.

My feet pounded the pavement as my walk transitioned into a run. I pulled the hood of my hoodie over my head, keeping my hair tucked in the back of my shirt so it wouldn't go flying everywhere. I ran past the random citizens scattered on the sidewalk, none of whom paid any attention to me as I swiftly flew by them (except the one guy I accidentally ran into, who then swore at me as I left).

The bright lights and busy streets soon turned darker, more abandoned. I was down an older road, cracked and filled with potholes, neglected. Buildings here were dark without light within, and green ivy vines grew up the walls. I slowed down as I came nearer to the parking garage on the far end of the street.

It was a tall, four-story garage void of vehicles or cars. Random scraps of litter were blown around by the gentle wind. The lights that weren't either broken or burnt out flickered weakly, not doing much to light the dark space. When I entered, there was a door to my right, the entrance to the stairwell. Knowing well that they were locked, I knocked on the door twice. I waited a moment before knocking once more.

Now someone came to the window. A tall man with a stubble on his chin and dark brown hair. His dark eyes observed me for a moment before he opened the door, letting me in. Once the door was open, I nodded to him, and walked past. I heard the click of the door as he locked it again behind me.

I walked down the stairwell, brushing my hand against the cold concrete wall as I went. It was rough and damp, and the place had an underground smell, mixed with the scent of old cigarettes. I shivered as a chill went through me, the damp air cutting through my skin as I went.

Soon I made it to the bottom of the staircase. It opened up into the bottom floor of the parking garage. This floor was more well lit, and a few people milled about. Silent chatter floated about small groups, each not regarding my presence. I wasn't here to talk to them, though. I continued on through the lot.

Soon I came to another small room, similar to the stairwell room, only the windows weren't boarded or blocked. I knocked on the door, and waited a moment before it opened.

On the other side of the door was a man, not too much taller than me, with black hair and brown eyes. His black hoodie had a red logo, two knives crossed to make an X, stitched into the top right. He smiled when he saw me.

"Anatox!" He said in greetings, "Come on in!"

He moved out of the way, and I walked into the office area.

I couldn't remember what the room used to be for, but it was a nice little room. A desk had a bunch of papers on it, like files, with different people's pictures on them, as well as a bio on the person. On some of them, the name was crossed out in red. Those were in a separate pile, neater than the ones without. A gas lamp sat on the desk as well, on top of two books. A bit of a fire hazard, but I knew no one messed with this guy. He was the leader of the small clan, organization, whatever you wanted to call it. Though "organization" really wouldn't be the first thing that comes to mind, we're anything but organized. Like this room.