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Act 2: Colored Crimson

It felt like I was running for hours. I quickly had become tired, but I had urged myself not to stop. It would allow the Cryptic Guard to catch up and capture me. I'll admit that it wasn't a smart decision to basically desecrate my uniform, as I could use it to blend in. However, there's a special tracking chip within it anyway. They would find me regardless.

The longer I ran, the heavier the remaining uniform felt to me. I had managed to escape into Upper Tonoko. I hid in an alley, looking around for a possible store. Luckily I was near the Upper Tonoko Apoca-Store, which was one of the top stores to cash in on the "Apocalypse" otherwise known as the Great Battle for Krater and more commonly the Great Wars. I didn't know much about it at the time, as I thought the Apoca-Store was even more of a sellout for popularity for profiting off of these dire times. Given the circumstances I was in, I had to walk in to buy a change of clothing. I wanted to be quick as I wasn't much of a fan of the "hipster" kind of look, with wearing outdated attire and the like. I quickly looked around the store, grabbing a blue t-shirt, a pair of black sunglasses, somewhat baggy cargo pants, and a pair of running sneakers. I managed to barely scrounge up the money for the ensemble and quickly hurried back to the alley to change.

Changing my outfit wasn't that easy. It took a near twenty minutes just to get the suit on, where it was perhaps thirty or forty minutes to undress. I managed to do so with minimal sweat, making sure I wasn't too slick for the new clothes to already ruin them. I pulled on the cargo pants first, as it was more common to see a male without a shirt than without pants. I pulled on the running shoes, tying them rather quickly before finally grabbing the blue shirt over my head and over my chest. I swung the sunglasses onto my face, adjusting them gently on my nose so I'd be able to see. I looked down at my Cryptic Guard suit and sighed. I needed to ditch it somewhere, perhaps somewhere that it couldn't be found by anyone except for me. I then noticed a grove behind a dumpster that was further in the alley. I walked over to it, gripping the sides and pushing it forward with all my might. I then had a moment of glee, revealing a deep hole under the building that was big enough to hide the Cryptic Guard suit. Quickly, I grabbed the lower half of my suit and pushed it into the hole. When I grabbed the top half, I reached into it and gripped the tracking chip, biting my lower lip as I pulled as hard as I could, ripping it out. I then placed it down as I hid the top half and proceeded to move the dumpster back to its location. Once that was done, I picked the tracking chip back up.

"See if you can find me now," I mumbled to myself before heading further down the alleyway and stuffing the chip into the back of a Hoover Gar, which was a garbage truck. I sighed with satisfaction as I watched it ride off with the chip, though I still needed to alter my appearance more. I did think it was time I had gotten a haircut, but I was out of money. I did stumble upon about perhaps five Tin, which is Tonoko's and Jaden's form of currency at least, as I walked down the sidewalk. I looked around, thinking I would find some more.

After about perhaps half an hour of walking, I did hear a somewhat nasally voice coming from a nearby pub, which was named Jack's Tavern, and I decided to investigate it.

"What do ya mean I owe you that much Tin?!" the nasal voice screeched. "Ya said I got a tab, Jack. Can't ya just keep addin' to it?"

"No," a burly and intimidating voice, assuming his name was Jack, stated bluntly. "I am sick of giving you beer, seein' you drunk off your butt, and just pilin' up more debt." "Come on!" the nasal voice whined. "I need my happy juice! That babe over there has a date with me, Jack!" "That 'babe' you're pointing at is a toaster," Jack sighed. "You're too drunk to know you're being denied. How the hell did you get this drunk without visiting?"

"She ain't a toaster!" the nasal voice yelled. "She's the love of my life and we're gonna make little Promuses together! Oh, hey, baby, you got nice, long legs." I peeked around the corner and raised an eyebrow, watching the Promus talking to a chair and stumbling quite a bit. It was rather strange for anyone to be drunk in the afternoon.

"I ain't discussing your tab or serving you until you're sober," Jack humphed before slamming the door in the Promus's face.

I blinked at that, then sighed as the Promus was whining now and pleading for his "lady" and that she wasn't a toaster yet again. I approached the Promus and stopped him from banging on the door.

"Calm down, buddy," I told him. "You do need to sober up. How about I buy you some ginger ale?" The Promus looked up at me with bloodshot eyes, apparently upset about the whole "debt" thing. "Uh, yeah, sure, pal," he said, stumbling again as he tried to stand up.

"Just sit down," I said, opening the door and walking inside. I took a few minutes, then returned to the Promus and handed him a large cup of ginger ale as I sat down in the chair on the other side of the table.

"Gee, thanks," the Promus said, sipping on it after he took it. "I'll repay ya, I promise."

"No need," I stated. "You just need to sober up and settle your debt with Jack there. The name's Lane, by the way."

"Bernie," he said after he sipped again on the cup.

"So what's going on exactly?" I asked as I sat back in my chair.

"Ole Jack is goin' on about me not payin' off my IOU's, aka debt," Bernie grumbled. "I ain't got a job and I used to get some money from medical expenses, but I stopped getting help from the Baron's health program for some reason. They claimed I can work or something when I know I can't. I'm too jumpy. I'll jump at the sound of anything if I'm not drunk. Plus I also can't be around a lot of people. One or two is fine, but an entire office? It gives me the shivers."

"Well, I'm looking to make some money myself," I said. "Perhaps I can help with your debt. I can work something out with Jack in there."

"Really?" Bernie blinked. "Why's a stranger like you helpin' a guy like me?" "Think of it as good will," I said. "Plus it'd be nice to have someone I can contact. Just put your name in my Communicator." I pulled the said Communicator out of my pocket and handed it to him.

He was quick to agree and placed his information inside. "Thanks, uh, Lane!" he cheered and proceeded to hug my arm due to his small stature.

"Well, don't get too attached," I said. "Once your debt's paid off, you're getting a job."

Bernie pouted and then sighed, nodding. I then stood up and made him wait at the table as I headed into the bar again, this time namely looking for Jack. I had only talked to an attractive barmaid when I had gotten Bernie's ginger ale. She was still there, winking at me as I passed her by. Jack sure knew how to hire helpful and attractive women. The barmaid, named Brittney, was a Festo. It seemed like the four-armed feline race were made for tasks such as Brittney's. She was apparently one of the best barmaids in Tonoko, with using her four arms to their full potential. Either one was cleaning the bar with a dish rag or one of the others was holding some sort of liquor for her customers. She had long, dark blond hair and her fur was colored in a soft blue. She was curvy in all the 'perfect' places. Well, at least perfect to me anyway. I did finally find Jack in the back, knocking on the door as he was supposedly in his office, with it wide open.

"What?" the burly man asked in a grumpish tone.

He was a large insect-like man of a race that I had only read about, called the Kreemer. They were the most recent species to claim Krater as their home, with adding a new tradition to the entire planet within the last ten years, which was called the Blessing of Kings week. Despite that, they were still rare to find.

Jack was fairly large in height and size. His red skin was easy to see within the dimly lit room. He wasn't muscular; however, as he had a large beer gut and long, fat arms for an insect. That didn't make me think for a second that he wasn't stronger than he appeared, as looks could be deceiving.

"Yeah?" he said, looking up at me with his fly-like eyes. "What do you want? An IOU like that drunk idiot?"

"No, but I did want to talk about that IOU," I said calmly. "I need to find a place to stay a while and lay low. If you can help me find that, I can help Bernie out there pay off his tab. I'm sure a man like you has some deliveries or something."

"You're payin' off his tab?" he asked, sounding a bit surprised. "Hardly anyone likes that drunk. I guess we could work somethin' out." He seemed to think for a moment before getting an idea. "Hey, I know. I got some backorders to a client needin' their booze and they're gettin' antsy. They don't have time or are too high class to pick it up themselves and I don't have any brave delivery boys willin' to face the client, it seems."

"Why are they afraid of the client?" I asked, feeling like I needed to know why.

"I ain't sure, though his name's Don Bortelli," he said. "Take my Speedal Truck out back with them orders and I'll consider that drunk's tab mostly paid off. If Don gives ya a good evaluation, maybe I'll hire ya as my usual delivery boy." "Fine," I nodded. "I need some way to earn Tin anyway."

"I'll give you some money to probably afford a hotel for a night," Jack shrugged. "But that's all I'll give until I know for certain that you're reliable, boy. I'm entrusting a damn stranger with my famous booze."

"Fine," I stated before grabbing the keys to the Speedal Truck and heading out of the office. "Bernie, we're going for a ride." I then grabbed Bernie's short, fuzzy arm and carried him outside like that.

"Hey!" Bernie groaned before I let him down once we were at the Speedal Truck. "You're bruisin' the merchandise, man. Well, what did ole bug boy say? It's got somethin' to do with this truck, don't it?" "It does," I said, climbing into the driver's seat. "I'm supposed to deliver this beer to some guy named Don Bortelli and your tab will mostly be paid off."

"Don Bortelli?" he asked. "Wait a second here, there's no guy named that. Well, maybe there is, but the only Don Bortelli I know of is part of the Bortelli family down in Downtown."

"Bortelli family?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Some family that's good at business, I think," Bernie said, hopping into the passenger's seat now. "Let's go! I bet this baby can get us there in five minutes!"

"Fifteen," I corrected. "I'm not breaking any laws on this job."

Bernie rolled his eyes and pouted, crossing his arms. I then started the truck, heading into the direction of Downtown Tonoko.

Once we arrived in Downtown Tonoko, it was a bit of a sight for sore eyes. I had only seen most of Tonoko, especially this portion, through my eyes as a Cryptic Soldier Initiate. Through my marches, the Downtown district was described as a cess pool of crime and debauchery. I still believe the "facts" given off by my instructor back then were still blinded by the Cryptic Guard's bias or fully falsified for him to believe. What I saw the moment I drove into the quiet streets of Downtown was the simplicity of quiet city life itself. There were a few men and women walking to some destination, while others seemed to hurry to a bus stop or to their apartment. I saw no crime in this area, at least the obvious kind. I looked at the address on the navigation system within the truck's guidance system, finding it rather easy to drive there. I parked the truck, hopping out and heading down a brick pathway up to a rather luxurious home. I then knocked on the door, looking around for a moment before it opened.

"And you are?" A skinny Promus Alpha asked in a bit of a nasally voice. He wasn't much taller than me. He wore a striped suit, which was colored a light green, along with a darker green tie. His yellow beady eyes stared me down as if he assumed I was a dangerous threat. His gray fur seemed to stand a bit as he seemed like he did need to be always prepared for something.

"I'm Lane Silverbane," I simply stated. "I'm a new delivery boy for Jack's Tavern. Sorry about the backed up order. It's all here in the truck, sir."

"Jack's Tavern?" the Promus Alpha asked. "It's about goddamn time. Load it into the house, ya scrub worker." I noticed he reached for a gun in his jacket pocket, assuming I'd protest. I knew better than to do so as I just walked back to the truck and unhitched the back, then picking up two barrels at a time to load into the house. It only took about half an hour, but it was easy work to me.

"Ah, this must be Jack's new delivery boy," a hefty voice echoed from the kitchen as I set down the last of the barrels. The voice belonged to a large Festo man in a purple suit, striped like the other man's. He seemed a bit older and had gray hair, slicked back into a smooth appearance with some rather thick hair gel. "The name's Bobby Bortelli, aka Don Bortelli."

"Don Botelli?" I asked. "The name's Lane Silverbane, sir. If you don't mind me asking, what are you the Don of exactly?"

"Ah, a curious boy," Don Bortelli chuckled in a low, but loud, voice. "It is perhaps a great compliment for you to admit being ignorant of the organization I run, boy. I'm the Don of the Bortelli family, obviously. The Bortelli family, however, is part of a larger framework known as the Crimson Gavel."

"That name rings a bell," I stated simple. "The Crimson Gavel's a criminal organization, according to the Cryptic Guard." "The Cryptic Guard?" Don Bortelli asked. "You're not some sort of spy, are ya, boy?" He narrowed his eyes at me as he awaited my answer.

"No, I'm not," I stated. "In fact, I perhaps am on their Most Wanted list already as I let two convicts go free as I knew some Cryptic Guards were planting evidence on them. So I'm more or less on the run, thus not in the Cryptic Guard."

"On the run, eh?" Don Bortelli asked, stroking his chin gently. "Well, tell you what, boy. If you wish to keep the Cryptic Guard at bay, you can run some initiation errands that would possibly lead you into a low ranking membership of the Crimson Gavel, granting immunity to those dimwits and thus agreeing to use your services for all of the Crimson Gavel families." I hesitated for a moment, now realizing that I was offered to join the Crimson Gavel, which was basically the mafia in Mortion. It was one of three choices. Either stay on the run and risk becoming arrested, turning myself in and suffering possible execution or join the Crimson Gavel and earn the right to use Immunity if I was ever caught, but grave tasks may be attached to that "Get Out of Trouble" card. It certainly wasn't free. I continued to ponder this, gulping gently as I rubbed my neck a bit nervously.

"Your offer is accepted, Don Bortelli," I said, almost completely reluctantly. "What would you have me do now?"

"Oh, boy, you work a bit too fast," Don Bortelli chuckled. "Settle down and find a place to stay. We'll cover the costs of Room & Board. Since you've accepted my offer, meet me back here tomorrow at six in the mornin' and your road to Immunity can begin. Now, take this card with the payment for the beer, though I just deposited quite a bit extra for you to spend on some artillery. You're gonna need it in this business, boy. Get yourself a decent weapon. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a party to set up." He then left me in the den as one his lackeys escorted me out of the house.

I sighed as I stood in front of the house, alone again. I had done something that I even swore to myself that I would never do. I had initiated the process of becoming one of the Crimson Gavel. I knew it would lead down some questionable paths, but I wasn't prepared at all for some of the jobs that lied ahead of me. I took a deep breath and placed the card in my pocket after electronically depositing the payment for the beer into Jack's account on the card. I kept the money left over, as it was meant for me to get ready for whatever task Don Bortelli had for me. I approached the truck slowly and then climbed into it, finding Bernie munching on a small bag of chips.

"Where did you get those?" I asked, looking around the inside of the car, as I didn't remember having snacks in the car."

"The Mega Food Store," Bernie said with his mouth full. "You were taking a little too long so I walked to the nearby store. So what happened in there? Am I still havin' to pay that tab?"

"It's significantly less now that I delivered that booze," I said. "I'll have to ask Jack about another errand to fully get rid of it. As of right now, I have to come back here tomorrow if I want any help for my own issue." "Well, at least we're gettin' somewhere with somethin'," he stated. "Though now what?"

"Well, I've got this Tin Card that'll probably get me a decent place for a short while," I said. "You're welcome to stay with if you need a place to stay, too, Bernie, but I'm going to require you to help me out any time I ask. Got it?"

"Oh, wow," he blinked. "Offerin' me a place to stay in exchange for help? Ain't my usual style, but why the hell not? I'll do it, Laney boy. You helped me get my tab down. The least I could do is help ya out with research or somethin'. I know this city like the back of my paw." He held up his paw to emphasize it.

"Good to know," I chuckled, turning the truck on and then revved the engine before heading toward the more bustling side of Downtown. I knew of some vacant apartments there that would be perfect for Bernie and I.

The apartment I managed to rent for at least the month wasn't too bad. It was a small two bedroom apartment, pre-furnished with beds and a living room with television, cable, and a comfortable soda. Bernie already made himself at home as he sat on the couch watching early morning cartoons as I looked out the window in thought. I was dressed in the same outfit as the day before, as I had no options for better clothing. I scratched my head gently, ruffling my spiked hair a bit. I was contemplating how I was going to get out of this initiation into the Crimson Gavel. I didn't completely want it, but I wanted the Immunity. I wanted to be able to do things how I wanted, though I would occasionally have to obey one of the Dons of the Crimson Gavel, whom I researched through my Cryptic Communicator that they were referred to as the "Crimson Council" when it came to fighting a turf war or just against the Cryptic Guard. I then looked down at the screen of my Communicator, reading tidbits of information of the Crimson Council. A piece of the news on the Internet interested me as I looked. A Bodaren sighting.

The Bodarens, the only race older than my own on the planet of Krater. I read about this race in some of the old Cryptic History Books, though I did also look online to avoid only being fed the "lies" about them the Cryptic Guard fed its initiates. They were a race that worshipped the all-powerful Time Lord, a dragoness named Magazor. The race considered themselves to be mortal vessels of her soul, transmitting the very fabric of time across the planet to keep life afloat. Wherever they went, flowers and trees seemed to flourish, water refilled even if it evaporated long ago. They were a peaceful tribe for quite a while. Then they became game for more powerful races, forced to defend themselves against more powerful races such as my race, the Acrolytes, or the Festo. No matter how hard the Bodaren tried, they could never fit in with the other species. They were shunned if they weren't imprisoned, possibly tortured and then eaten. Due to their inept socializing, they began to believe all of the other races in some way were trying to destroy the Time Lord Magazor through killing their kind. This lead to perhaps Krater's first war, The Great Rush. It wasn't a long war, perhaps only two years, but half of the Bodaren population on the planet was slaughtered by the blood and toil of the war. Dwindling in numbers, quite a few of them began to adapt, attempting to use tactics against their opponents and doing more tactical plans lead the Bodarens gaining their territories more quickly. Due to this, the faith of Magazor was question as the Bodaren moved away from the thousands of years of their natural defenses to needing to prepare for invasions and attacks, thus believing they were no longer immortal. This angered some Bodaren, while others remained loyal to Magazor. A good portion broke off, becoming an alternative Bodaren race, even starting a war with the Magazor Worshippers; this lead to the first Civil War, and second war in Krater's history.

That was all I knew as I looked through the article. Bodarens, as to my knowledge past the supposed events of the Bodaren Civil War, were extinct. The professionals at the Mortion Science Institution thought so, at least. It sparked my interest and I made a mental note to check out the location of the sighting later, which was near the Tonoko Water Industries' Pump Station.

"Ever wonder what life is like outside of them walls, buddy boy?" Bernie asked, interrupting my internal thought process.

"I've found myself wondering sometimes," I stated. "I vaguely remember the time I was outside of the city. The security is rather tight and even the Cryptic Guard agents that get to see the outskirts or travel to Jaden are usually squished among one another in a vehicle transport, limiting their view. It's not like it matters, as most of them are brainwashed by the time they are able to patrol."

"Brainwashed?" Bernie asked, seeming genuinely confused. "It sounds like the Cryptic Guard are definitely a problem, though what about that guy back there. Don Bortelli, right? Gonna get help from him?" "I'm not sure," I said. "I have to get on his good side first, but then he may be on board to help. As of right now, I'm nothing more than an errand boy to him. So don't get yourself into trouble. I don't have the power to bail you out."

"I understand, Laney boy," Bernie nodded. "Ya got the Promus Promise! Now, are we gonna watch some TV and celebrate or are ya gonna sit there, all distant and stuff."

"I guess I could use some chuckles from TV," I shrugged and sat down on the couch. "No betting on games, got it?"

"Bah, you're no fun," Bernie pouted. "I guess I do have to watch out for that. I do owe some guy like 1,000 Tin." "What?" I blinked, looking over at him. "You owe more people money?"

"Oh, right," he chuckled nervously. "I forgot to mention that. I'm kind of hidin' from him. They don't know this address, thankfully." "What if someone spots you coming here, Bernie?" I asked, a bit angrily.

"Chill, Laney boy," he said. "They won't know I'm here. I don't plan to go out much. I mean, we got here and moved in and no one spotted me, right? Right."

"You don't know that yet," I sighed and brought my palm to my face. "Well, if someone does see you, then you come to me and I'll deal with them. I expect my favors to be repaid, Bernie. Got it?"

Bernie simply nodded as he continued to watch the television screen. I sighed yet again as I stood up, unable to enjoy the television program on due to now knowing Bernie had a gambling issue along with his debt to Jack. Quite frankly, I was surprised that there wasn't a connection between Bernie and the Crimson Gavel. I scratched my head and just stood up, heading into the bedroom. I laid down on the pre-furnished bed, closing my eyes. Like I did with my parents' demise, I wished for what I had done to be a dream. I wished that I would wake up and it would be the same drill as it was with every Cryptic Guard In Training within the Academy. I wished for Yuno to be my closest friend again. I wished for so many things as I drifted to sleep. However, wishing doesn't get you anywhere. At least, none of my wishes come true.