Grey Horizon

I Am You

"Move! Move!" 

The words roar out of my mouth as I barrel down the crowded, nightlife streets of the Callary District. The smell of used oil brews in my nostrils as my lungs heave to keep my veins graciously supplied for oxygen. People squeak and shout in disgust as I shove passed, but are unable to grab my sleeve or collar before I brush past. Neon signs glare and flash in succinct rhythms above me and music blares in my eardrums along with my risen heartbeat. 
"Over there!" Cries a voice amongst the chaos. 

My feet stumble at the break, and I flash my head back for a mere few seconds to catch a glimpse of the group of uniformed men chasing after me. With their crew cuts, professional attire, and holstered hips, the men of the Company stood out like wheat stocks amongst the working class of Nukaro. Spinning on my heels, I hunker lower within the crowd and shove past a few more metres before I hang a right and crouch behind a large crate stack of potatoes. A sharp smell of tea dredges sting my nose and I cover my mouth to refrain from gagging as I stare breathlessly out the slated crates to the bustling street beyond. 
"We lost him," snaps a brown haired uniform to his cohorts as the group trots into view. 

Chest heaving, I lean back against the brick wall of the shop behind me. 
The leader of the pack, a man with a hawklike expression and sharp dark eyes, peers over the crowd as if they were a wave of insects and huffs loud enough for me to catch just the faintest scent of broccoli and olive oil. 
How do I know what that smells like?
"Spread out, and find him!" Hawkman growls, grabbing a collar of one of his men and thrust him into the crowd; the others quick to follow. 

Watching as they slowly disappear, I remove my hand from my mouth and gasp for breath. Sweat pours from my forehead and back, drenching my shirt in its entirety. Only a few hours ago, Snojyn and I had been drinking tea in a cęsh, ignorant to the chaos soon to come. 
What had happened?

I had heard my name.

After the strange encounter of what I could only guess was the third kind, Sno had bombarded me persistently on what the ghost had called me. For a while, I resisted with silence. Part of me at that moment was still trying to process what I had experienced. But after a few minutes, her irritating questions threw me over the edge. 
"The less you know," I had snapped darkly, "the better." 

And in truth, I believed I was right. Whoever these people were - the feeling that gave my guts a huge weight of dread told me that keeping this identity - a name I barely recognised as my own -a secret would be the best for both me and Snojyn. 

Realising she wasn't going to get an answer, Sno had relinquished her badgering and noted out loud that Drax had messaged her. My papers were ready. 

The long walk back to Harden's secret offices was a quiet one, but it was a silence I could cope with. This name I now possessed was so foreign. It had no connection to my current one, and mentally saying it to myself gave me no flashbacks or any indication that it had any meaning. 
Could it have been a joke? 

I question to myself through the haze of smoke and hum of the streets as businesses shut down and night clubs and midnight specials begin to flare to life. If it was a joke, then it would have to have been pretty elaborate for someone to pull off. Something done by someone I once knew, perhaps. 
But why now? 

I was on the Qubæ a month before Nukaro, and it's been three weeks since my arrival. Would someone actually wait that long to pull something like that? 
"Amsterdam?" 
I had looked up from my consistent thinking to find Sno standing frozen at the open entrance of the warehouse cover of Drax's offices. At first, I had just stared, confused. But then my eyes widened with understanding. 
"That wasn't open when we first came, wasn't it," I barely mutter before Sno nods, already backing up.