In a world where witches demons and criminals run amuck, nothing is as big of an issue as overpopulation.
It was when the sky turned dark with smoke and the crops shriveled in the fields that finally the government decided to do something- but how...
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The streets of Victoris once used to intimidate Nill, but now, with a massive lumbering black demon at his side, those thoughts felt a century away.
At the moment he was situated in the lowest district of the city, Under Abbey, which bled noxious fumes as much as it did criminals. This made it the top target for 'expeditions', which meant he had had to take extra precautions in coming here.
The chances of getting mugged or shot in every alleyway we're equal with those of getting snatched and 'assimilated' by said government expeditions, the program responsible ironically named 'CARE.'
Ah, assimilation. While the flyers made it sound as a re-entry to society, it was really more of a massive wall of firearms and crude labels, calling even the most innocent of children 'villains.'
Yet he was here deep in the heart of it all, and though Nill was disgusted by the fresh corpses near his feet and the screams of the lower class getting sentenced echoed in every shadow, his destination was set and a change of mind was impossible.
He turned a corner, chin stiff in an almost arrogant way. Cloaked in a black waistcoat, he almost blended into the prancing darkness around his shoulders. It would have been nice, slinking along the streets like he used to when he was seven cycles old.
Sadly, he couldn't seem to escape the attention anymore, not with a giant demon clinging to his back at every waking moment it seemed. And besides, shocking silver eyes never let him go unnoticed.
At the end of the thin cobbled path he emerged into, smashed between two stacked houses, sat a moldy red door. It was splintered at the corner as if the sandwiched state had finally gotten to it, and two lamps were staked to either side of the thin building, barely illuminating the thick fog of the night.
The air was silent all for the skitter of rats and the small clicks of Nill's cane against the holster on his thigh.
A huff escaped his lips at the appearance of this place as he approached, slowly sliding a finger down the wood surface, finger catching on a dent. An inhale told him there were visitors inside. A quick look at the paint showed a dried smudge of blood.
"Company," He said aloud, country belle accent thick in the air. His shadow friend lurched at the sudden break of silence. "How nice. Let's try to be on our best behavior, eh?"
Reaching forward and twisting the knob, Nill's senses were quickly punched with overstimulation. Glass shattering by his head forced the boy to twist away from the door and behind a thick column of wood, and he nearly coughed as a cloud of cinnamon buffeted up his nose. The barrels by his hip leaked spices; the source of his watering eyes.
He quickly glanced around the area, only to find the door to the rest of the place blocked by a wall of fists and bodies. Makeshift tables were knocked aside, silverware and wooden pints scattered around the floor, but the bar seemed to be untouched.
