Saving the World - Awakening

One of Us

"Get into the pool, and I will take care of the rest." the man said solemnly.

At any other time and at any other place, Eliot would have considered this extremely bizarre.  As it was, he was unnerved by the cultish atmosphere, but not to the point of backing out.  There was nothing he wouldn't do, the gash in his gut reminded him of that every second.  If slipping into a stone bathtub would heal him, then he was all for it.  On top of that, it was free.  No amount of eerie would keep him from trying.

"Whoa, whoa, mate.  Wait.  I still gotta go home and talk to my dad about this.  I think he needs a say in this too." Eliot said quickly.

"Do whatever you need to do." the man waved Eliot towards the door. "Just don't die on the way, that wound looks excruciating."

Eliot glared at the man and remembered that he still didn't know what to call this solemn, reverent man.

"What's your name?" Eliot asked before turning away.

The man let a small smirk tug at the side of his mouth, as if he were amused it took Eliot this long to ask what his name was.

"You can call me 'B'" the man answered.

Eliot nodded his head and turned away to exit.  When he emerged, a crowd had formed around the door, forming an arc.  They stared at him expectantly for a few seconds, but soon realized that nothing had happened.  Disappointed, they disbanded, and Eliot continued forward, out of the Side Show.

In the Side Show, dealers didn't pack up as quickly as the normal dealers.  They seemed to thrive in the dark. That always unnerved Eliot, as he had been taught to fear the night by countless experiences and stories more horrifying than anything he had ever seen before.  Now he could be joining their ranks, becoming just as strange and terrifying as them.  B's deal seemed too good to be true, and it probably was.  He had no other option, though, this would have to work.

As Eliot walked the sun set, and the path before him grew darker and darker. He felt dizzy, stars spinning at the edge of his vision.  He started seeing things in the shadows, shuffling around in the alleys to the side, something had to be there!  Yellow eyes stared at him, hungry for him.  The shadows twisted into demons, monsters from hell itself. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he started walking quicker, despite the nagging stabs of pain from his chest.  Maybe walking home was a bad idea....

Aha!  Ahead was his apartment complex.  He was safe now!

THUD!!

A poorly placed blow to Eliot's right shoulder interrupted his ecstasy at reaching his destination.  He cried out from the pain, but ground his teeth and turned on his attacker.  Before him was the hermit who had stalked him the night before.  He attempted to punch at the hermit, but his arm was dislocated from the blow to his shoulder.  He set his jaw and reached into his pocket with his left hand and drew his pistol.

His pistol lingered in its position, his finger on the trigger and hateful thoughts in his head.  But the hermit didn't cower away, he seemed to embrace death, as if he had waited his whole life.  Kill or be killed, and it was his time to submit to the twisted law of the streets.

Eliot pulled the trigger, and with a bang the hermit fell to the ground.  Eliot stood there, speechless,  just staring at the dying man before him.  Blood pooled from the hole Eliot had blown into the hermit's chest.  He looked at peace, as if he had wanted to die the entire time.  It chilled Eliot to the core, but surprisingly it wasn't a bad chill.

He shook himself out of his daze and continued on to his apartment. He had only been a few blocks away from his home when the hermit attacked.  When he reached the complex, he opened the door stiffly, his left arm still impaired slightly from the knife incident the day before, and walked up the stairs to his home.

The door was still closed and he could hear nothing coming from the room within.  He opened the door and was greeted with the smell of blood mixed with alcohol.  His father was hunched over on the table, covered in blood.  His head was bleeding from the back, and there was a gun on the ground.  A bottle of vodka was broken on the floor next to the gun.  His father was dead.

Eliot fell to the ground, not caring about the pain it caused him.  No wound compared to this pain, the pain of seeing his father dead on the kitchen table.  There was an envelope on the table, clear of the blood and neatly placed on top of a box.  Eliot sat there, in shock, but he couldn't cry.  After all his years of holding back his emotions, he couldn't weep for his dead father.

The rush of emotion wore off after a while, and Eliot remembered that he had work to do.  There wasn't any choice anymore, B's miracle was the only plan he had, however far-fetched it was.  He could feel the energy draining from him every minute he refrained from resting.  He needed to hurry.

Eliot made his way to his room, saw the massive sack of knives and sighed.  There was no way he could take all of it, he could only take his favorites.  He grabbed a backpack he had stolen a few weeks ago and stuffed his clothes into it along with his stash of valuables. 

Strapping as many knives as he could to his side, he made his way out of the apartment, making sure to grab the box and the envelope his father had left him.  As he was about to leave, he remembered the gun his father had used on himself and picked it up from the pool of blood his father left him.

As Eliot walked down the street, he made sure to keep a gun in one hand at all times.  The other hand he used to keep pressure on his once more bleeding wound.  Around him there were dealers, some asking for him to sell his soul to them, some asking if he wanted to buy a child as a slave.  He had grown used to such abominable acts  in the past, but it didn't stop him from being unnerved.  The people who shopped at this time were what he was worried about.

Finally the Side Show loomed before him, alight with fire and spotlights.  Everything seemed surreal, almost otherworldly.  The sights blurred together, creating an inferno of color.  His eyes were glazed over and his shirt was soaked with blood.  He couldn't control himself. He barely had energy left to take a step forward. The excitement around washed over him, inviting him to join in.  There was no stopping now, though.

After a few steps forward, he realized it was futile.  He was going to die here, less than 200 meters away from his destination.  He kept stumbling forward, unwilling to give up.  He had been defying the impossible for his entire life, somehow making a living for a three person family by himself.  Surely he could take a couple hundred steps to reach his goal.

He fell to the ground, unable to take another step.  His wound was completely opened now, and blood was pouring out of his side.  He pressed weakly on it, trying desperately not to bleed out.

He lay there for a few seconds until he saw the dancer he had seen before.  Samantha.  She bent down to him and offered him her hand.  He slowly lifted his hand towards hers and she grabbed it firmly. Everything grew clear now, he felt better.  Sure, he was still dying, but the world seemed to come back to him.

She hauled him up and draped his arm over her shoulder, his other arm stemming the flow of blood. The two hobbled slowly over to the cave entrance, where B was waiting.  With a knowing look, B took Eliot from Samantha and motioned for her to leave.  With a surprising amount of strength, B cradled Eliot in his arms and took him to the pool in the middle of the room. After removing Eliot's belongings from his back, B set him down into the pool.

The pure water was immediately tainted by Eliot's blood.  It quickly grew red, and his blood started flowing freely from him.  There was something about it that made him feel better, though.  The dizziness in his head left him slowly.  The water around him seemed to be draining into him. He tried to stay calm. The rush kept draining into him as the liquid got lower in the pool.  Eliot was laying on the bottom of the pool after a few minutes, the water having drained into him in that time.

Then it got scary.  Four straps came up from the ground, two on his wrists and two on his ankles, and he felt needles stick into his back.  He grunted in pain, but didn't pass out.  He had come this far, he would finish it conscious.  No matter how hard he focused, though, he started to drift away into unconsciousness.  With one last valiant effort, he opened his eyes as wide as he could, but then he fell into darkness.