If there's one person Cleiton knew he could rely on, it was Alexandre. He was a tough old dog!

He didn't like the idea of leaving his med bay in the hands of Fritz, but Cleiton had no choice this time. He knew sending Fritz out to run an errand for him
would be the best way to keep him occupied, with the upcoming meeting, the last thing Cleiton needed was to worry about Fritz.

He wasn't incompetent. He had proven himself many times at the operating table, but sometimes Cleiton would catch him fidgeting with the equipment--unknowingly--which was possibly one of the worst things an aspiring Ripper Doc could do. Especially with the price of equipment these days. Cleiton complained internally.

Fritz's hands would cruise the operating room while getting lost in a daydream. It was like sleepwalking, except he was awake. It's actually amazing he hasn't cut himself...yet. Cleiton shuddered thinking about it. Better keep my mind focused on the task at hand. I've got things to do.

Cleiton fought his thoughts as he strode through the noisy street. Through the visor of his mask, he peered through the relentless purple and green haze. The only thing beneath his feet was dirt and concrete, no skyline catwalks or floating plateaus. No, Cleiton was where he knew he belonged, amongst the dregs of society, the ones left behind. Here, where the walking wounds never healed, these were the living scars of Zeelis.

If people are the future, it appears to be a grim one Cleiton thought to himself with the slightest ounce of pity.

Bawb's Booze

He reached his destination, the usual meeting spot that Alexandre blindly insisted on using. Time and time again the two of them had decompressed at Bawb’s Booze. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than a brick wall with your bland, run-of-the-mill, neon flashing sign.

Just as Cleiton stepped through the automatic doors, they closed behind him as if to never let him leave. A light beside each door ahead of him lit the small hallway with a red glow, beckoning all inside the bar.

He stood in the sealed room. It was like purgatory, he wasn't outside, but wasn't inside either. Cleiton kept his mask on and raised his arms while also extending his legs, firmly planting his heavy boots on the grungy, greasy floor. The vents in the ceiling opened and quickly turned on. In a moment's time, the silent hallway he found himself in morphed dramatically into a flurry of wind, cycling rapidly as powerful as a hurricane. He could feel his clothes thrash and flap frantically until, as quickly as it had started, it was over.

He removed the mask and took his first clean breath all day. Nothing compares to the first blast of fresh air after the purifiers do their work. Cleiton thought to himself while running his thick dirty fingers through his close-cut sweaty hair while the other arm now rested at his side grasping his mask tightly. He stared at the door for the lights to change. The lights switched to green, and one of them remained dim, struggling to catch full power. He pounded on the wall and the light lit up, unlocking the automatic deadbolt. He stepped through the second set of automatic doors and as he did, a wave of heat rushed in from the people who occupied the bar.

Looking around the room, he was surprised at how many people there were inside. Usually, it was quiet.

Alexandre's little group must be expanding, he thought cynically. Cleiton could almost guarantee that each one of these people worked towards the same goal. Once, he was so optimistic. He was a believer in a brighter day. Now? He would rather not think about it.

Then he spotted him, that thick hair that just until a few years ago was black. Now it was streaked with plenty of greys.

"It's funny. When I don't hear from you, I assume you're dead. When I do hear from you, I get worried," Cleiton said with a light chuckle.

"Senta-te doc," Alexandre spoke up just as Cleiton reached him, His raspy and gruff voice sounded like churning gears that needed some oil. "I got a jug of Octane." He continued.

"Octane? You're really putting that new liver through some trials, aren't you?" Cleiton asked as he took a seat.

"Well, you can always rip it out e cambiá-la cuando queres. Besides." Alexandre started to punch his side with his fist. "It's cybernetic, what's the worst that'll happen?"

It'll rust. Cleiton thought as he picked up his glass. Octane. We were mad to drink this crap when we were kids, and even madder to do it now. He paused and stared at his glass.

Who's Gigas?

"Cheers," Cleiton said as he and Alexandre clinked their glasses. "Good to see you old friend." He continued. They both drank. It felt like they were drinking motor oil, something about it though was sweet. Just sweet memories,
perhaps. Cleiton wondered to himself.

"I didn't call you for a drink and a catch-up, Doc." Alexandre said as he placed his glass back down on the bar.

"I assumed that. Look, fifteen years ago, I would have continued to follow you into hell. But things are different now.” With a little pause to let it sink in, he continued, “I don't want to think about any more of this anti-government stuff."

"Apathy doesn't suit you," Alexandre said while leaning in, to glare into Cleiton's eyes.

Something about his eyes always scared Cleiton. They were dead, cold; The last time he saw them with any kind of sparkle was long before all of this.

"It's not apathy. I just know I can help more people from the med-bay; the forgotten ones of Zeelis." Cleiton said wistfully. He liked to believe that he made a difference, but, sometimes it was hard to be fully convinced.

"That's why I contacted you." Alexandre pulled a folded note from his pocket and handed it to Cleiton.

"What's this?" He asked as he took it from Alexandre. "Something important. Some kid. He ain't got ninguem. No one. Sleeping rough down here on the ground floor. He needs help. Your kind of help." Alexandre slipped the note into Cleiton's hand as he finished speaking.

"Some kid? I'll need more to go by," Cleiton said while reading through the note. "It's all there, all I know anyway. Chemical burns on his face, he's usually on the outskirts of the P.I.M.P. District, etc. Sometimes he wanders near the Cines." Alexandre sounded different as he spoke.

Cleiton’s brain rattled in thought. He couldn't explain it, but Alexandre just sounded caring. Is that the right way of putting it? Cleiton asked himself, knowing he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Find him, fix him. Get 'im on his feet. Then bring 'im to me." Alexandre ordered.

"I'm not a bounty hunter," Cleiton responded.

Alexandre jolted forward with his glass firmly in his hand extended at Cleiton, "Just do it!" He spoke through clenched teeth. There was imminence in Alexandre’s demeanor. He meant business.

Cleiton looked up without moving his head and made eye contact with Alexandre to read his face. Cleiton scrunched his brow, nodded, and continued to read over the note. He finished his drink and stood up. In mere moments, he had his mask back on and was out walking the streets once more.

The Hunt

Gigas. The one word that had been on his mind since reading the note. He refuses to wear a mask while outdoors.

Is he crazy? Suicidal? Cleiton wondered to himself. Sometimes I don't feel comfortable without a mask on, while indoors! Especially down here on the ground level of Zeelis!

He had asked a few people about this kid, Gigas. Nobody seemed to know about him, or they just didn't care. It's like he's a ghost. He walked all over the lower levels, looping around the districts Gigas was known to frequent. Cleiton even reached out to some of the lower grease scuzz from the fringes. They didn't give anything to go off of either.

He started to wonder what Fritz was up to and if he'd damaged any of his artificial parts like last time. Cleiton was tired of looking for this Gigas guy, but with the look he saw on Alexandre’s face, he knew he couldn’t stop. Stumped, Cleiton reached out to Fritz.

"Hey, everything still in its place?" Cleiton asked over his com-link. "It always is!" Fritz responded sharply. Relieved, Cleiton nodded. The two of them stayed on the comms and Cleiton used Fritz as a slight distraction, while he continued to walk the city. Soon though, Cleiton hung up.

Rubble on the Street

Cleiton decided to try a part of town he didn't like going into. He got to a particularly hazy part of the city close to the Psyberstorm arena. He could hear two men arguing before he spotted them. Through the purple and green smoke, he could barely see their silhouettes. Then there was a clearing as he stepped forward.

"You've had your time with the mask. It's my turn!" One man argued with the other as he grabbed violently at the mask the other was wearing. Each man was dressed in rags. The one trying to wear the mask was lying amongst rubbish and the other was on his hands and knees.

"You've already got green lung! What difference will the mask make for you?" as he smacked the guy's shoulder to prevent hitting the mask. The man wearing the mask clenched it tightly to his face. His words were muffled through the breathing apparatus. Despite Cleiton being close enough to make them out clearly, he paid little mind. It was better in these parts to just ignore the forgotten ones.

Cleiton could see their faces in his peripheral. There was nothing he could do for these oil sheens. He walked past them, giving them plenty of room. As he did, he could hear punching and the shuffling sounds of fighting, then a large cracking sound.

"You've broken it! You idiot!"

There were leaky drips like this all around this part of the city. Fighting
over a mask found in the garbage was commonplace. It was the filters that people had a hard time finding. Usually, they just used whatever trash they could find in the dumpster to shove in its place.

Not much further down the street, Cleiton saw someone hunched over, sitting against a wall with a light blanket covering themselves. The person was rocking slightly as Cleiton approached.

Rough Diamond

"Hey” not speaking too loudly, “Pull the blanket from your face, for a moment." He asked, but, the person didn't respond to Cleiton; they didn't even look up at him. They just sat staring out at the street. "You hear me?!" Cleiton
elevated his tone, which snapped the person's attention.

"Well, looky here. Some fancy chap comes wandering the dead streets," the gruff, masculine voice made out.

Fancy chap? He averted his eyes to the clothes he was wearing. What about me is fancy? Cleiton wondered.

As he was looking down, the man thrust with a sharp movement. The man on the ground was on his feet in an instant, throwing back the cover. He stood taller than Cleiton, but he was skinny as a waif. It was
then that Cleiton noticed there was a shoddy-looking homemade pistol aimed directly at his gut.

"Money-Now! Empty your pockets. Gimme that mask too, it'll fetch a nice price," the man said frantically. His eyeballs were red, he looked like he had been crying. He had thick black bags like leather under his eyes and had ratty-looking facial hair with thick, long, unkempt hair on his head.

The scar! The side of his face was a road map. The skin on his face twisted and distorted. The chemical burn was just as described in the note. I hope you know what you're doing Alexandre, Cleiton thought to himself as he raised his hands slowly.

"Easy. I just want to talk. I was sent to seek you out." Cleiton said calmly.

"Sent? Who would seek me out?! I’ll zap you right now!" Gigas shouted frantically. His old-styled Helical Crystal Resonator, or HCR, was a common weapon, but it could zip right through human flesh. "Whoever it was, they sent you after the wrong per..." Gigas started to cough. "Person!" He finished his sentence and then lifted his free hand to his mouth. He then started to cough deeply and violently. Cleiton could have knocked the pistol from his hand, but, there was no point.

The coughing fit went on for a while. It was as if he was choking. Cleiton knew that the guy didn't have much time left in this world, a couple of weeks, maybe a month, Cleiton could only watch him with pity in his eyes. This is definitely Gigas!

He looked up one last time, this time with a pathetic, but desperate look, his eyes cold and dead. Then Gigas' eyes rolled to the back of his head as he collapsed to the ground.

Cleiton looked around the street, devoid of anyone, then back down to the body on the ground. Cleiton placed his fingers on Gigas' throat over the carotid artery. His pulse was there, but it was faint. Cleiton sighed, then shuffled the man into a fetal position and scooped him up.

Heavier than he looks Cleiton complained to himself as he walked off with his find.

Written by: @killerwot
Edited by: @bobthebuilder2 and @demon402
NFTs created by: @urun and @bobthebuilder2

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