Pondbell: Coldblooded (Ongoing)

Caput Undeviginti

Favelas, outskirts of Sao Paulo, Brazil

As Credence sits alone in his black 1969 Chevy Camaro with his headphones on, playing music in one ear and his Intel device in the other, he watches children run and roam the streets. Some chase one another, and some play football in the streets. Others pull their mothers along with them in the direction of candy shops. Some teenagers breakdance to loudspeakers in front of the liquor shops adjacent to the candy shop. It's chaotic yet exudes familiarity. Credence watches and waits, his glare fixed on one child in specific. The child looks lost at first, almost as if he's waiting for someone. Then, after a few seconds of stillness, he is startled by another child that spooks him from behind and laughs. They chase each other and share chuckles.

Credence is familiar with the first child; his name is Lucas. Credence's eyes scan his moves as Lucas and this unknown child walks into the candy shop, their little bodies slipping through the crowds of people. Credence's grip tightens on the steering wheel, and his other hand tightly grips the center console. He holds his breath as he squints his eyes in attempts to find them within the crowd, and seconds later, the two emerge from the shop with ice cream cones in hand. They run past Credence, giggling happily while running up the street, disappearing into the crowd.

The sun begins setting, and he sees fewer and fewer people walking on the street. Credence hasn't moved a muscle. Hours pass, and the streetlights barely even illuminate the street. And though the surroundings are dim and weak, Credence's silvery black eyes can be seen through the darkness of the car. He checks his watch and then sits up straight. He hears it.

The children laugh as they run down the empty street. The two stop running to catch their breath.

"Foi divertido, Lucas!" The child exclaims while hunched over, panting.

"Sim, eles quase nos pegaram!" Lucas replies, laughing and leaning back while looking at the night sky.

"Sim, devemos sair amanhã. Minha mãe vai ficar muito brava se eu chegar em casa mais tarde do que já estou," the child says and mockingly pouts, making Lucas chuckle.

"Ah, claro! Sim, eu quero ver você novamente amanhã. Você ainda quer que eu te dê aqueles pêssegos enlatados? Minha mãe quer que eles se vão," Lucas asks.

"Say no, for the love of God, please say no," Credence places his head down on the steering wheel, whispering to himself.

"Hmm sim, eu gosto de pêssegos. Não acho que minha mãe ficaria tão brava se eu trouxesse comida para casa," the child answers with a shrug.

Credence curses himself and places his hand on the handle of the car.

"Credence, don't even think about it," Wayra warns through the device in Credence's ear.

"I can't just sit by and watch this shit again, Wayra. It's been weeks, weeks, and every day, it happens like clockwork. It's been three today, the shit is ramping up," Credence says with his hand still on the handle, as he watches the children walk toward the dilapidated apartment building across the street from the now-closed candy shop.

"You don't have to watch this, Credence. We're trying our best to get things all sorted out. Just be patient," Wayra says calmly.

"Pêssegos são deliciosos! Não sei por que sua mãe iria querer que eles fossem," the child continues.

"Nós preferimos pêssegos reais," Lucas purses his lips. "O material artificial simplesmente não tem um gosto tão bom," he casually replies as the door to the large apartment building swings open. Credence looks inside and, once again, catches sight of a larger and intimidating man illuminated by the flickering light in the hallway. The child steps back in fright but looks back at Lucas, who smiles and reassures him.