The essence of 22’s work relied on paying attention. Not just listening, but making sure to not misinterpret what they heard around the city. Innocuous rumors and deliberate lies would inevitably reach their ears, and it was their duty to separate what they could to not spread them further. But sharing only an objective, immutable truth wasn’t a realistic goal, they knew as much. Their first broadcasts had been focused on what they knew for a fact to be true, but no matter how much the Knight’s audience grew, people would still distort words and their meaning. Every day after the call, 22 would be confronted to that reality, an irrational yet unshakable tenet of this city’s nature to not be sincere with themselves. They could have lamented, they could have wielded the Knight’s helm to preach to Last Kunlun. Can’t they see how little is left? Can’t they understand how little there is to hide? But the Knight was never meant to be a shepherd, and 22 knew they’d get tired of that kind of leadership quickly. Instead they strove to understand. Cynically, being adopted into this city forced them to stoop down to a civilization whose morals depended on the ambient humidity, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.
For 22 to be able to pay attention, there needed to be elements their eyes could latch onto, and Freeway had a habit of making that more difficult than necessary. Whispers in empty streets, windows reflecting nothing, flickering lights revealing only glass and steel. 22 knew better, the district wasn’t abandoned, it just liked to hide itself. A stark contrast from the neighboring Yama, even under the Sun 22 could still hear music from the district, reaching deep into Freeway. Any other day, they’d have headed someplace where they’d be guaranteed to get some new information, but 22 had a dinner at sundown. They were well rested, still sporting the aerobus’s window mark on their cheek as proof, and preferred to kill time in a potentially fruitless endeavor. To much of their own chagrin, the Knight wasn’t perfect. They’d swung by Jie 10 after the call, finding Magnolia sleeping face first on her desk. 22 found the samples they’d been undecided on, laid in front of her, bigger than yesterday’s. Instead of waiting for their answer, she’d started sowing on her own, her closed fists likely hiding strains on her fingers. 22 couldn’t be the one to judge the quality of her work, she’d do that very well on her own. Instead, they made their choice. They could have written a letter, but 22 hadn’t learned how to write, so instead they drew an arrow with a water marker towards the blue and red sample. Even if their loud arrival hadn’t woken her up, 22 left the apartment on tip toes. Without stopping by their mirror, they only realized the presence of the window mark when they were already strolling through Freeway. No matter, if the district decided to open its mouth to throw mockeries at them, they would take the initiative and dive in.
Even the rare people they would cross path with barely paid any attention to them. Stuck to the nord side of the city, offering very little in the realm of distractions, 22 couldn’t be surprised the district didn’t attract much visitors from down sud. As much as they tried, the entire place was intent on not showing its colors, even outside of the Sun’s influence. 22 exhaled. No matter how much they zigzagged through the streets, if they kept heading west, they would only end up at Freeway station. They could already see a corner of the massive structure, piercing through the skyline. 3’s offer, almost pleading, resonated in their ears once more. A sound of wheels against the pavement made them turn around. A gurney and a cleaner, not that unlikely of a sight. 22’s eyes followed them still, the black bag well rested onto the metal bed didn’t seem in much of a hurry but the cleaner picked up the pace. Assuming the guy was heading for the Funerarium, he was a long way from their destination and should probably save their strength. Instead, the cleaner veered into an indoor hall. 22 immediately hopped over to follow, keeping a respectable distance. Under the canopy, they saw the cleaner hurriedly knocked on wide doors that immediately opened for the gurney, rolling into the unknown, leaving the cleaner on their own. That seemed to be much to their satisfaction, as their shoulders deflated and their hands sunk into their pockets, heading back towards the street. 22 thought about hiding, but annoyingly enough, this district’s streets didn’t offer much blind spots to hide behind. Before they even finished the thought, the cleaner’s mask reached their height. Hard to know what they were thinking, the mask worn by cleaners hid all of their face, 22 had seen some of them customize it to their liking but this one was either new or decided they were too proper for that. Their eyes met for a second but the cleaner didn’t stop for much longer, promptly ignoring them and going on their way. 22 frowned but couldn’t repress a smile, not all information they gathered would be useful, but this definitely looked to be interesting.
Naturally, the gurney absorbing doors hadn’t been kept open, but 22 tried nonetheless. The handle didn’t even budge, hint taken. However, the Knight didn’t bow to such things as “locks” or “boundaries”, and neither did they. A perk of not denying their Scavenger heritage also came with a nonexistent moral dilemma about using their tools. With that, 22 flipped their skeleton key out of their breast pocket. Their only gift from 3 upon their departure, if it could even be considered as such. “22. Never lose your way back. Remember.” He had to have known how the cooling cards were used in Last Kunlun, but 22 had never asked. After the unsuccessful pitch about the Knight’s purpose, they didn’t need to know his opinion on the use they had made of his gift. 22 squatted, eyes fixated on the lock, slowly fizzling out of all of its intricate hinges. They knew there were others that had gotten their hands on skeleton keys in the city, the Capitán must have a reserve of her own, but there were also some that had been distributed even prior to the Exodus, for all of his foresight, the Old Man didn’t have a tight grip on 1 when he was still around. The Cors must have confiscated the majority of the hijacks prior to 22 even being born, old stories for old people. The sizzling stopped with a dry clack, if there was someone on their other side, they had taken too long to stop the process and now the doors to Freeway’s deepest, darkest secrets were open to the Knight.
22 was anything but discreet, their outfit, when hidden from the Sun, reflected the lights around them like they wanted to commandeer their flow. A prospect of potential danger didn’t stop them. As the Knight and as 22, standing year after year every day on their perch in the Fringes, they’d seen what the hearts of the city could manage, and exactly who they should be scared of. If the corridors they were traversing had any chance of connecting to the calderan underbelly, they would have thought about it twice, but the twisted network only reached as far as Versal. The most dangerous people that had ever lived in Last Kunlun never once bothered to hide themselves, the nameless that carved open the Caldera famously did all of their preparations in broad daylight. Whatever Freeway was hiding in this place, they’d only need to take a peek, as courteously as they always were. All around them were dusty cabinets, every now and then, opaque glass let the Sun in. 22 tried to put a purpose behind the building they were traversing, the floor had once been a vibrant color, flowing patterns leading their way. The sound of wheels hadn’t come back to their ears, leaving them in front of another closed door, the sound of squeaking against polished floor came from the other side, multiple shadows dancing across the floor from the small gap beneath the doors. Wouldn’t be sensible to pull out the skeleton key here. 22 clacked their tongue, looking around for other ways and settling for a large set of stairs heading up. The Sun accompanied their ascent, revealing more faded patterns on the wall. Some animals, limbless and scaly, their beady eyes not reflecting much in the way of wit. Some were bigger than others, some were chasing their own tails, painted in gray mosaics, like giant minnows.
On the first floor, the first thing that greeted them were dry changing rooms, with showers that clearly didn’t receive water anymore. 22 figured the place was still connected to Volantis, but maybe the water had been redirected somewhere else. Even if the city wouldn’t run out unless the fourth calamity would prevent everyone from pissing, it wasn’t a bad idea to limit water waste in places unoccupied. The first floor coiled around the great room they’d been unable to enter, 22 started to feel increasingly frustrated as the noise could still be heard from the other side of the wall. From the hints and another they’d visited in Byzance, 22 figured they were in an abandoned gymnasium, in which the main court had been the place they’d been barred from entry. Reaching the other side of where they found the changing rooms, they finally saw artificial lights pouring from windows in what looked like to be a lookout. Laid on the ground in front of the windows was a person, a human barely taller than them, dark hair sleeked back like theirs due to a heavy headset pressed against her head. The uncomfortable position she held was due to a large camera she was holding against the ground, lens pointed down against the window. Her focus shifted in a panic when she noticed 22, aggressively moving her palm up and down. 22 hadn’t noticed they stood against the window into the gymnasium, before long they took the hint and dropped to the ground, slowly making their way to the human. It didn’t feel good, the floor was as dusty as it could and they’d need to wash their jacket before going to dinner, nevertheless, 22 hadn’t been chased away so they accepted the hospitality.
“Where the fuck did you come from?” The human whispered, leading the tone of the conversation.
“Same way as you,” 22 replied, lending a hand for a shake, “Name’s 22.”
The human raised an eyebrow, subtly comparing their arms now that they were laid on the ground close to each other. Even through their respective clothes, the width of their arms revealed an evident disparity in musculature.
“Let’s say that, then, I’m Charon.”
Once hands had been shaken, Charon went back to handling her camera. Now that they were closer, 22 could fully realize how massive the tool was. Nothing like those portable cameras, this one was long and so heavy the muzzle was supported on its extremities so that it didn’t crash to the ground. Likely that Charon’s athletic build had been attained just by wielding this thing. Following her and the camera’s gaze, 22 finally looked into the gymnasium’s heart. They mouthed a silent word of surprise. What they had assumed to be a sport court was instead an emptied pool, bigger than any that they’d seen before. To say that it was empty wasn’t a totally accurate statement, it wasn’t full of water as 22 would have expected, instead, it had been filled with dirt. Two people, seemingly your average citizens, were digging a depression into the artificial soil. 22 could only wonder how deep the pool could go, moving around that much dirt must have taken years.
“Is this… a garden?”
Charon let out a small scoff, not dismissive, almost sad.
“You could say that…”
As one of the gardeners sunk the head of their shovel into the dirt, a faint shutter sound came from Charon’s camera. 22 couldn’t take their eyes away from the motions of the digger. The more they looked around, the less they understood the goal of the endeavor. Halfway underground, the gymnasium was only lit up by artificial lamps, and not the strong kind, the barren bed of dirt was indication enough that any attempt at growing plants wouldn’t find much success. Then what were they funneling and digging for? 22 shot a look at the photograph, noticing the freckles above her nose.
“Why are you even hiding?”
“Same reason you didn’t enter through the front door, 22,” Charon replied sarcastically, “Don’t want to get caught.”
“What would happen if we get caught?”
“What do you think?”
Was she playing coy to assess their intentions? Hers was obvious enough but 22 had come empty-handed, their own reasons for coming here could have been anything.
“We’d get thrown out…”
“And do you want that?”
22 lazily shook their head, coming to terms with how roundabout this conversation had panned out to be.
“Then we hide,” Charon chuckled.
More bags of dirt were piled in a corner of the massive room, if these people had been digging up in the Minnow Gardens, there would’ve been holes everywhere in the district. This dirt, lifeless and ashy, must have come from close to the outskirts of the city, maybe around the tracks of Freeway station. Such a dangerous task to do nowadays, had all these reserves been prepared from before the Sun fully dimmed? 22 was struggling to wrap their head around such a deeply organized operation flying under their radar for this long. Surely noone outside of the district had any more idea about this than the Knight did. They felt vindicated in a sense, Freeway truly had something to say, 22 just had to bypass one lock.
“Why hide this much though…” 22 muttered to themselves.
“Just wait a bit.”
The two diggers had stopped, silently heaving as the window didn’t allow sound to get through. They had managed to create a respectable depression in the dirt pool, one of them waved to somewhere beneath where Charon and them were laying down. From below, the gurney that 22 had initially followed in came into view again. They couldn’t help but scoot closer to the window, almost crashing their nose into it before Charon tugged them back. They couldn’t allow themselves to blink. For a moment, they had forgotten what had piqued their interest in diving down Freeway’s dark corners. The gurney, empty of the cleaner’s usual equipment, still served as vehicle for its body bag. Wrapped in its usual funerary garments, the white and limp bag was taken in the arms of one of the digger and the one who piloted the gurney. Gently, the both of them laid down the bag in the dirt. All of their faces, visages 22 must have already crossed paths with, rested in quiet contemplation.
“How much do you know about sanctity?” Charon asked.
The question didn’t feel accusatory, she was likely tying back to 22’s question about why the diggers were hiding. 22 looked to her and to the body again, slowly getting covered by the dirt. They knew about sanctity, the unspoken and natural kind they only came to be aware of when they started living in the city. Arbitrary rules, stifling shackles, this is what sanctity meant to 22. Yet, it made sense for everyone else around them as child, didn’t it? The sadness, the quiet resolve in the diggers eyes evoked what they felt talking to 3 again, after all this time, but back then, their heart could have stopped from the weight of that gaze.
In the absence of an answer, Charon kept firing their camera, following the meticulous process.
“Does the Capitán know?” 22 asked.
“Likely that all of City Hall does and doesn’t give a fuck.”
“They’ll run out of place someday, right?”
“There’s more than one “garden” in Freeway but yeah, they will. They’re annoying, they’re making a huge deal about washing your hands as well like it won’t get covered in dirt anyway, but at the end of it all, they just wanted a quiet place to rest. Someplace that’s not the Hearth.”
22 bit the inside of their cheeks, they tried to recall what were the funerary rites for Scavengers but that must’ve been a part of their memory they’d willingly parted with. The white fiber of the body bag started to become fully immersed beneath the soil.
“Would you want to? Be laid down like this, I mean.” 22 asked.
“Do you think about crackling in fire in your free time?” Charon answered, snickering, looking at 22 while resting their head against her arm, still clicking relentlessly on her camera.
“I’m not from Freeway if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Oh I could tell, I was only asking if you’re already planning where you’ll end up once you won’t be able to open your eyes. Not a funny thought is it? Sure as shit isn’t what made either of us come here today.”
“That, I can’t deny…”
As the process concluded, Charon and 22 kept looking in silence. The pool of dirt was once more flat as a street, as if nothing had happened. A faint smell of upturned dirt reached their nostrils, not unpleasant, unfamiliar. Laid down like this, in the cool environment, they could’ve taken another nap. Just as their eyelids started feeling heavy, 22 noticed one of the digger was pointing their direction.
“Busted.” Charon snapped.
She jumped to her feet, shutting her camera’s lens shut and swinging it over her shoulder where it rested comfortably. 22 haphazardly rose, following her lead and tried making a run for it in the direction they’d come from but Charon grabbed them by the collar before they could put one foot forward.
“Nuh-uh, this way.”
Without a complaint, 22 followed. On the opposite side of the window was another set of doors, leading to humid gray corridors they would have easily gotten lost in. They were running now, sliding through tight corners until they found a narrow stairwell that Charon decidedly climbed, three steps at a time. No mosaics this time, only gray walls of concrete eroded by humidity. 22 struggled to follow her but after hearing cascading footsteps below them, the thought of stopping to catch their breath didn’t cross their mind. After an unknown number of steps, Charon gave a shoulder to a door that swung upon for her, letting them onto a roof. The cold wind of the high zenith bit 22’s face, they were back under the Sun, many floors above the street. Charon didn’t stop there, still hurriedly making their way across the sloped rooftops of Freeway, right above the canopy they’d previously stood under. Shooting a glance below, 22 gulped.
“Same way I came, huh?” Charon snickered, hanging by one hand on the roof, her feet already on the slope, “Come on, come on.”
“I’m not fucking doing that,” 22 whistled, still heaving from their run.
“They’re getting clooose,” Charon beckoned playfully, lending her hand to them.
“And what? They’ll escort us to the door and give us a good scolding, tough shit, been through worse.”
Charon didn’t argue, smiling like someone who’s mind was already made. Her fingers invited them once more. 22 could hear the footsteps getting louder, without looking back they dusted off their jacket and carefully lowered themselves down to their level, taking her hand. Both of their legs barely holding on to the gutter, 22’s eyes were drawn to the drop, unable to look away.
“What’s even the plan?”
“You can ask yourself the question now.”
22 locked eyes with Charon, nonchalantly strapping her camera tighter to her back. Was it generational of this district to be this cryptic? Their expression must’ve been the only answer she needed because her eyes went back to the below.
“Fire or dirt?”
Without letting them any time to process, Charon tugged them forward, leaving their body at the mercy of gravity. 22 felt their heart travel from their throat to their sphincter, as they swung from the gutter onto a balcony, hidden beneath the angled roof. Charon had angled the trajectory of their body to be predictable, using the momentum of their unexpected fall. 22 safely to solid ground, Charon gently lowered themselves down as they both heard the roof’s door slam against its hinges. Without needing to be prompted, 22 slid to cover, still shaking. Charon did the same, sitting themselves down in the blind spot of an empty pot. As best as they could, 22 shot curses towards her way, only making her giggle silently. Was this penance for breaking the sanctity of this place? In the end she was still the one who decided to run away. Hiding under frustrated steps and chatter, they could at least let what they’d seen sink in. Not really a perverse secret, nothing of national order, just an old tradition City Hall had decided not intervene in. As the Knight, they didn’t feel like airing this out, even as desperate as they could feel to redeem themselves from the fumbled interview with the Doctor. As the voices went away, 22 exhaled, tapping their hands against each other, trying to part with the dust they’d accumulated. Charon had unstrapped their camera, holding it sideways and peering into a small monitor. The tool was too modern and robust to be anything but custom-made, 22 was surprised she was willing to do such aerobatics with it under her shoulder.
“What are you gonna do with them? The photos.”
“Hmm, probably gonna keep them to myself for now, but who knows,” Charon replied, still focused on the small monitor, “It’s egotistical, I understand the desire for sanctity, a quiet place, more personal, more intimate than the Funerarium. But you saw the same thing as me, it’s beautiful isn’t it?”
This again, 22 couldn’t say that what they’d seen peering thorough the window was something of beauty. Melancholic, at best, deeply moronic at worst, at least they had enough foresight to bury the bodies with the bags still wrapped around them. Like with the myrrh of Black Lake, 22 decided to abstain from forming an opinion.
“Would you be interested in an interview with the Knight?”
Charon turned her head, 22 felt some satisfaction seeing such surprise painted on her face.
“You’re them?”
“Do I look like them?” 22 scoffed, “You can say I run their PR when they’re looking for someone to interview…”
“Hmm, you have a point, the Knight can’t be this nonathletic.”
“Well fuck you then,” 22 thought as they nodded comprehensively.
“This explains why you’re also digging around…” Charon suddenly frowned, their tone shifting, “You’re planning on sharing this with the Knight?”
“Even if I did, I doubt they’d do a flash special about it. They didn’t make their reputation airing peoples dirty laundry, you don’t listen to the calls? They’d rather hear from someone like you, about whatever you like.”
“Not more than the usual line, sorry to the employer or whatever…”
22 had to invoke all the power of their interpersonal skills to not appear the slightest bit offended, instead they shrugged.
“But… but, but…” Charon stammered, biting their lower lip and stowing the camera back on her back, “Can’t say I’m interested. I’m moving a lot these days, made some radical choices recently and I want to see where they lead. Getting on the Knightcall now would feel like pinning myself down in a sense, hmm…”
It was worth a shot, as far the Knight’s duty went, they were as empty-handed as when they were mindlessly strolling through Freeway. At least they had some exercise before dinner. Charon walked to 22’s hiding spot, standing above them.
“But don’t forget my name, if I become more famous that you hear it while sniffing out for the Knight, call me again, I want a reserved spot.”
In that moment, the Knight and 22 could only think that this one had an award winning smile. Their dark eyes reflected no fear of the Sunrise, a color of which 22 hadn’t had the occasion to discern. With that said, she slid the window of the balcony open and strolled nonchalantly through curtains into a busy living room.
“What the fuck? Again?”
“I have to get in and out! Thank you, thank you!”
This wasn’t a situation 22 wanted to be in for one second more than necessary, they got up and followed Charon’s lead once more to leave the building. The outraged human widened their eyes seeing them tail Charon, mouthing a bewildered “Who the fuck?” that thankfully didn’t manage to leave their throat. The rest of the living room was roaring in laughter as Charon and 22 rushed towards the stairs, even if noone was after them anymore.