Shades browsed the Market Quarter, still trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that weird dream left lingering in the back of his mind.
Now that he had a chance to slow down and look around at his own leisure, he found the city even more intriguing than his first impressive impression. Despite how much this quarter had been rebuilt since the quake, most of it looked to have been patterned after the old layout. Which, in and of itself, mostly consisted of building on top of older layers of the city. Alta seemed to have an ancient tradition of stacking, the end result being a hodgepodge of paths, stairways, terraces and ramps, with only a few main roads leading into the upper quarters. The upper levels newer and more thoroughly repaired than the lower levels. Looking at some general maps, he also noted how uneven the quake damage was, with some sections thoroughly demolished, and others mostly untouched, and he wondered if it really was a natural earthquake, or if something had collapsed in the uncharted piles of ruins underneath; word on the street was that not even the Assembly had any complete maps of the oldest, deepest levels of the Undercity anymore.
Everything was interconnected in ways that made navigation more a matter of memory than directional bearings, much to his chagrin. In some sections, it was hard not to think of it as one giant building, a city-size pueblo structure. To his eyes, it was a work of art, centuries in the making.
And still a work in progress, gauging from all the reconstruction work.
Of course, he had been warned several times to stay away from the ruined sections. Aside from the obvious structural instability, a troublesome combination of Alta’s homeless and its criminal element gravitated to those areas, and he had heard talk of dangerous factions called the Squatters having taken up residence in them. Due to the lingering quake damage, even the authorities had little reach on their turf.
Just thinking about it made him glad he was exploring by daylight; he could all to easily picture his faceless stalkers from earlier prowling the twists and turns of this ancient city in the shadowy moonlight.
The more he thought about it, the more he wondered why landfall in such a relatively safe port would prompt such a harrowing dream. Though he supposed he should have expected as much after leaving the Isle of Castaways. Thinking about their last day there, how they had their final meal with some of those mysterious guavidu fruit, which just thinking about set him looking among the various stalls and store fronts, to no avail.
Not that he was really expecting much, he reflected. After all, they had no idea if they’d ever get to taste it again, definitely something to keep an eye out for in their travels. Though sadly, a victim of its own short shelf life. More like half life, once they’re picked…
Instead, he tried to stay focused on scouting out supplies, as their late-afternoon arrival cut them short yesterday, as well as his ongoing search for his friends, his most recent dream having lit a fire under his ass on that front.
In the midst of his search, his roving gaze caught a glimpse of a blue hoodie in the crowd off to his left, passing through a narrow alleyway. Hood up, though there was something about it that seemed almost familiar to him from somewhere…
“Stop! Thief!”
Shades’ musings were interrupted by a commotion at a nearby shop. He turned to see a grey-cloaked, hooded figure dash out the door to one of the shops. Clutching a curved, sheathed sword in both hands as he stole into the crowd.
Shades probably would have chosen to remain a spectator in this common street crime if someone hadn’t reached out, most likely trying to stop the thief, only grabbing his hood and exposing his face.
“Max?…” Shades blinked, as surprised at his own double-take as he was at this bizarre turn of events.
His feet always did have a mind of their own, and they just made up theirs ahead of him as he took off after his friend, a thousand questions racing through his head.
“Max! Wait up!” Shades called out.
For his part, Max looked over his shoulder, pausing for only a moment, eyes bugging out for some reason, then started running even harder.
“Dammit…” Shades muttered, darting and weaving through the crowd in a frantic effort to keep up with his wily escape. Though uncertain if he could keep up with Max at an all-out dash, he was determined to get some answers. And all this time, I thought I only had to worry about Justin pulling this kinda shit…
He got his first taste of what Max had in store for him when he hopped up on several crates, bounding up onto a walkway above. Accepting his challenge, Shades scrambled up the crates, too, barely keeping up with Max’s wild grace. By now, Shades could hardly hear the hue and cry back in the marketplace, but as long as there was still anyone hot on Max’s trail, he refused to slow down for anything.
And that was just the start. Shades’ quarry next led him on a merry chase up and down stairs, often taking several steps at a bound, across half a dozen rooftops and terraces, including a ten-foot leap over an alleyway he followed only in the heat of the moment, willing himself not to look down, then ran up to and scrambled right up a vertical wall.
That move surely would have lost Shades altogether if he hadn’t spotted a stairway leading up to that level close at hand. As it was, the detour gave Max a troubling lead. Shades was just about to give up, and go back to the ship to tell Justin what he had seen, when Max’s harried glance over his shoulder caused him to trip on a loose cobblestone, nearly falling on his face, giving Shades a chance to close the gap.
Before long, Shades noticed that there was nobody staring at them anymore. In fact, there was nobody at all soon after they vaulted a black-and-yellow striped fence. The terrain here was buckled and uneven, slowing Max down and allowing Shades to press his advantage of running miles through the mountains, acquiring a surefootedness that rivaled even his friend’s.
Even so, it wasn’t until Max ran into a dead end, the alley beyond completely barred by collapsed walls, that the chase drew to a close.
In spite of his mad parkour skills, Max stopped short of the tumbled heaps of brick and stone, apparently too unstable for even him to try anything. Seeing that Shades had him cornered, he turned around to face him. With a desperate look on his face that seemed as out of place as everything else his friend had done of late, Max drew the blade he had stolen.
“Who are you?” Max demanded, raising that blade— which looked to Shades like the spirit and image of a katana, even in this world— holding it before him in an awkward manner that seemed nothing like his friend’s graceful swordsmanship.
“Max?…” Now that Shades got a good look at him, something just seemed a little off. “Is that you?”
“How do you know that name?” he shot back.
“You’re acting really weird,” Shades remarked, keeping one hand close to his stun-sticks, though he found he was even less enthusiastic about drawing it against his friend than he was about the idea of using his cutting blade to destroy such a fine— and very functional-looking— antique. “So tell me, what happened to your laser sword?”
“What are you talking about?”
Not only did this not seem like anything Max would do, even his voice and manner of speech were nothing like him, as well. Then again, the more Shades looked at him, the more he could tell there was something decidedly different about him. For one, he didn’t seem quite as… rough around the edges as he recalled. More slight of build, but still a consummate athlete.
“You’re really not Max, are you?” he concluded.
“Who?…” Max stammered, looking and sounding more and more harried with every word. Eying Shades with growing suspicion. “You’re one of Freedan’s men, aren’t you?”
“Who the hell are you talking about?” Now it was Shades’ turn to be taken aback. “I thought you were my friend, and I wanted to find out when exactly you took up shoplifting. Even Justin doesn’t steal on a whim…”
“You’re no friend of mine!” Max shouted at him. “I can’t believe you’d try such a lame trick! Did you really expect me to fall for that? I know Freedan’s got spies all over this city. I’m not going back this time, no matter how many of you I have to fight!”
“Now that sounds more like the Max we know and love,” Shades told him, “but I’m not your enemy. Why don’t you put away that sword, and tell me what’s going on—”
“More lies!” Max snapped, taking another step toward him. “You’re just stalling for time, waiting for backup, aren’t you?” Blade quivering, he warned Shades, “I will find my father, even I have to go through you!”
“I’m not going to turn you in, if that’s what you…”
Shades trailed off, hearing footfalls approach from behind. Keeping Max in the corner of his eye, he turned to face three men as they entered the alleyway. It hardly took past experience dealing with lowlifes to tell that their posture was anything but neighborly.
“See!” Max retorted, “There they are!”
Shades had no idea who this guy was expecting, but these folks gave him the distinct impression of being here for their own reasons. From their shabby clothes to their surly demeanor, he doubted they ‘worked for’ anybody. The fact that one of them had already pulled a knife wasn’t very encouraging, either.
“You guys must not be from around here,” one of them snickered. “Not too many people just come wandering into our turf, ya know…”
“Uh, Max,” Shades tried hesitantly, “you know these guys, don’t you?”
“These guys aren’t Rawne’s crew…” Max’s expression shifted from hostility to dismay as their situation became clear. “Dammit! Squatters!”
About the same moment Shades finished piecing it together, things going from bad to worse.
“So, why don’t ya just hand over those nice toys,” one of the Squatters threatened, “and we might just let ya walk back outta here.”
“Max, stay back,” Shades cautioned, already questioning if this Max would be any good in a fight, “this is about to get ugly.”
“But those guys are too dangerous for—”
“That does it!” The one with the knife rushed forward. “You had your chance, assholes!”
Wasting no time, Shades whipped out his stun-sticks, cleaving the blade of the knife even as the thug slashed at him, tripping him and smacking him with the stun blade in his other hand. Even as the other two reached to their weapons, Shades sheathed one of his, drawing his power pistol, his enemies also caught off-guard by his new concealed shoulder holster, as he aimed at the closest one.
“That’s what happens when you bring a knife to a gun fight,” Shades warned them. Silently thanking Justin for all the quick-draw pointers. “We’re trying to have a conversation here. Now get lost.”
Both of them glared at Shades, glancing at their fallen companion, and that seemed to settle it for them, as they ran off, spouting threats and curses.
“Who the hell are you?” Max demanded. “You don’t act like any of Freedan’s men. Now that I think about it, you kinda remind me of…”
“I told you, I’m a friend of Max’s,” Shades replied, motioning for this Max to follow him. “I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but I imagine those bastards will be back, and they’ll probably bring their friends.”
“I suppose you’re probably right,” he replied, lowering the sword, but still keeping it unsheathed. “I still don’t trust you completely, but I’ll hear what you have to say.”
“I’ll show you the way to our ship,” Shades told him. “I think Max and Justin’ll want to meet you. But if people are looking for you, you should try to be less conspicuous.”
“Oh, right,” Max mumbled sheepishly. “So you really do have a friend named Max, and he really looks like me?”
“Close enough for government work,” Shades admitted. “Enough that you could easily be mistaken for each other. All the more reason I want to know what’s going on, especially before someone accuses my friend of stealing that sword.”
And so Shades led the way back to the Maximum.
Author's Chapter Notes:
wrong name, wrong face
