Raime had taken a leisurely stroll through Versal, taking extra time to find a nice and respectable place that could offer them a meal. They’d decided on a ground level restaurant that already had a small line inside, they didn’t mind waiting if there was a guarantee the food would be fresh.
The red bricks signature of Versal turned a dull black under the sunlight, sullying an otherwise lovely district. Unlike in Yama, Raime couldn’t notice any difference with how its residents behave during the day, maybe they had found a better balance. They had only started noticing the shifts in behavior around the city since they started going out as the Sun rose. It was different, but Raime struggled to find something positive to get out of it. They doubted everyone that decided to step outside before sundown had a purpose in mind the same way they did. After only a few weeks, Raime had started looking down on those strolling around without any particular purpose.
They were heading up an empty building that laid between Versal and the Caldera. Going from pretty brick buildings and vines creeping up the walls to the sea of gray of empty warehouses was a contrast they found endlessly entertaining. It made little difference if the Sun was at its zenith or not, the Caldera offered so little colors by itself that most of its residents took it as their sworn duty to add any where they could.
The building they were in, however, had rarely been lived in. It lacked any sort of basic necessities, sported neither windows nor furniture and was effectively unfinished on all parts. Citizens of Last Kunlun weren’t known to be picky about appliances but running water on all floors had remained a basic necessity. The city had room to spare, noone was looking forward to finishing building old projects, especially not in the Caldera. These constructs left to time usually attracted other groups, artists or breakers, but Raime was neither.
“Morning, boss,” Raime said, having reached the top floor.
Their interlocutor straightened his back upon hearing the honorific. He sat in a foldaway chair that he had brought himself which became the only piece of furniture in the five story building. The man had first introduced himself as Dove. He was slightly shorter than them, 170cm at most, covered head to toe in concealing gear dated from before the Exodus. Raime had never seen his face and doubted anyone except his mother had ever, if even. He’d never asked for their name in return, only referring to them as ‘hey’ or ‘you’, which would’ve felt degrading if Raime had grown to respect his personality.
“Not much more morning to be had at this hour, you’re not very early,” Dove sighed, crossing his legs, his hands resting above his knees.
Dove made a great effort in keeping a professional appearance. They had met at this exact spot a few weeks prior. The exchange had been awkward, neither expecting company in this place. Where he’d met someone who had nothing better to do than loitering in abandoned buildings, Dove must’ve sensed an opportunity. He claimed to be working under the Capitán of the Cors and offered Raime a task in their name.
“Had a bad trip yesterday, had to get some food on the way.”
“What’s that?” he pointed at their hand.
“Soup.”
“In a bottle?”
Raime looked at their half finished broth in a glass bottle, still warm, and shrugged, “It’s experimental.”
Dove let the thought sit for a second and got back on track, “What happened last time?”
The task itself had been straightforward. Join an unregulated search party in the calderan underbelly and report their movements to Dove. Getting invited had been as simple as taking an open air nap somewhere Dove told them to, a shaded impasse two blocks away from the Funerarium. Raime had been woken up by a broad human who asked if they wanted to be part of an expedition to explore the underbelly.
Working both as an undercover operative and being able to traverse a landscape they never had the tools to enter wasn’t just tempting, Raime accepted without giving it a second thought. They came back to U40 that same day their heart lighter, finding great pleasure in taunting their neighbors that they had found a job which restricted them for revealing anything else. Raime had found their neighbor severely uncurious, only triggering a shift in how Avril looked at them, which didn’t make them feel better.
Raime had taken upon themselves to follow her example nonetheless, waking alongside the Sun. The effot felt increasingly pointless, Raime still slept through the Knightcall and their part of the expedition only began at Sundown. Day after day, they only made themselves more tired. The invite in Yama had been a welcome distraction, as if the night was calling back to them, but they had been punished for their hubris. Now, warm bottle in hand, Raime didn’t mind delving again as long as they could move on from yesterday.
The organizer of this expedition, named Gale, often brought trays of food from the Glassway which both motivated other helpers to come back and to keep a level of secrecy to the ordeal, at risk of having less of the nice food available each day. Raime had understood how this relationship worked as they joined the group to meet cold and distant colleagues, only to find them much more receptive to their presence once they abstained from taking a share of the meals.
Raime saw the other participants as a barely strung together group of misanthropes. They discovered over a few days that most of the people who’d been invited were just low functioning individuals. Recruited like they’d been, they were people who lived in shadows, burdened by self inflicted shame, social impediments or simple shyness. As the days passed, Raime recognized some faces they’d crossed paths with in the Hull, it had to be the first time for some of them to step foot beyond the Grande Gate. It made them wonder how Gale had even recruited them, had they dug deep in the lower stratum? For what purpose?
Not a single one of them wore masks or anything similar but they diligently kept their gaze to the ground, their shoulders tight and words few. People like Dove or even the Knight had grasped the choice of protecting themselves from the world, letting their curated personality shine through this self-made barrier. But some, even presented with the possibility, had not be able to take this step. Would it even help them? Could they even blame them? Raime had considered it but found out instead how much claustrophobia was ingrained in their mind.
“More boxes, the deeper we go the more organized everything is but it’s still only opening crates. They haven’t brought any tools to take a dig in the walls or pipes like you thought,” Raime finished their soup, warming their body as they approached a frameless window, overlooking the district.
“What do they tell you to report? Same thing?”
“Same thing, same thing. Whatever’s not kitchenware. Which concerns most crates, they spend a fuckton of time on our backs.”
“They’re still playing coy, making their purpose down there very vague… We assumed it was just a group of idiots trying to dig out Volantis but clearly they want something that fits in those boxes. Any signature height or length?”
Raime laid their bottle down on the windowsill and expanded their arms enough to give a picture of the different sizes of crates they had encounter. Too varied to count, all shapes and sizes, all kind of contents with no more patterns than yesterday. Dove got the message and exhasperatedly waved his hand as Raime kept gesturing.
Self assured geniuses and daring adventurers had been regularly hard at work trying to find where Volantis was hidden since the city had been rehabilitated, causing sometimes very high collateral damage, turning the majority of the population against them. Attempts had abated for years now but the fickle hope never faltered in the hearts of some people with no other prospects ahead of them.
“Not like anyone minds,” Raime said, picking their bottle back up and taking a swig, “I imagine it’ll start getting complicated once Gale’s provider gets tired of handing out banquets twice a week.”
Dove was still holding his crossed leg pose, which Raime assumed had to be uncomfortable by now and would make him cramp out later. They bit their tongue to keep themselves from commenting on it, motivated only by the earnest hope it would come true.
“Alright, you’re going tonight anyway. If Gale isn’t intensifying his search that means he’s confident something will come up eventually. Would love to know how and why, you can’t see it but I’m exaggeratedly blinking from one eye right now.”
“I’m not grill- interrogating them by myself, it’s suspicious enough that I don’t eat my share of the pastries…”
“Poor you, excuse me for asking you to do the work you were recruited for,” Dove said, standing up and nonchalantly stretching his legs, “I remember you asking if you’d get a formal introduction to the Capitán once we’re done with Gale and company? Think about it.”
“I don’t really car-”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that!”
Raime didn’t look at him leave, watching a group of painters hard at work against the wall of a warehouse down below. The roof had collpased likely decades ago, letting them get a good view of their station. Raime could only speculate as to why they would spend the paint when they couldn’t even tell the difference between colors at this hour. Maybe it was part of the fun.
“Cringe asshole,” Raime let out, seeing Dove confidently leave the building and take to the streets.
The words didn’t reach him. Raime had mentioned getting recommended to the Cors as a joke, in truth they had no presence in the Hull and both them and Avril hadn’t learned of the extent of their influence in Last Kunlun until they were older. Raime only saw them as a distant curiosity, even if the few times they had crossed paths with the Major around the city had instinctively motivated Raime to get out of the way as fast as possible. Dove had taken this comment as leverage against them. His blatant insecurity about his obviously newfound leadership position made them more confident. They enjoyed letting some snark slip through, but Raime didn’t abandon the position nor did they correct him. After all, like Dove had guessed, they had nothing better to do.