Diluc ~ Friday 7/30/4173

               He was done with it. That much was true. The months since the accident had been grueling. Crepus remained in the same dour mood and their father was no better. Diluc slung his guitar case over his shoulder, adjusting his duffle bag. Done with it. He pretended the apprehension he felt was little more than his nerves. The fact he was actually worried about getting in trouble like a child was just another sign of his domestic upbringing. He scowled at the memory of that word slung in his face. But really, it was the truth in that accusation that stung. He poked his head into the hallway, checking no one would see him. Why would they? The thought was bitter sweet. Of course no one would be lurking in the upstairs halls, and his sojourn to the front door would go unnoticed. The only two occupants of this dead house were locked away in their personal cells, too prideful to set their grudges aside to be a family, and both expected him to mind his own and keep out of trouble. Little more than kin, and less than kind. Diluc exhaled their resentment that had begun stirring in his chest. He refused to let the infection fester and eat away at him as they did.

He walked quick and quiet, his gray paws on the carpeted floor near silent. He realized he was making the effort to do so, and fought the urge to fight it. Why should he make his getaway in secret? They both should have realized where all this turmoil was leading, surely. But still he made himself smaller, diminished himself for the sake of others. Forever unable to bring himself to disturb the family. Forever the one destined to sacrifice for their gain. As he passed his brother’s doorway, he glanced through the crack to spy Crepus. As usual, he lay moping on his bed staring forlornly through the window into the raining gray skies of Ravenhurst over London. For a moment, the image of his brother’s face made him doubt his resolve. He looked lost. As he had since he came home from hospital in May. But then his vehement words, fueled by self-pity and loathing reminded Diluc why he’d made this decision in the first place. I’ll not scorch myself to cinders for their comfort. He told himself, and turned away from his brother’s door following the curve of the hall to the stairs. 

His hand traced the oak rail, as he had done his entire life. The paintings and windows to his right, the open air to the foyer below on his left. How many times had he made this walk? It was strange to think this would be the last. The dark wood floors of the foyer veiled the layers of dust in the corners, the dim lighting hid the signs of quiet isolation that the Eigengrau family had endured for decades. They hadn’t hosted a gathering since mum died. Makes sense. It was mum that enjoyed hosting. Da could have cared less. He recalled the family gatherings, the holiday parties, mum dressed like a proper lady of the house and her smile beaming in the warm lights of the chandeliers that now hung derelict. And da would be holed up in the shed out in the garden with his artifacts from his time in the war when his usual hide in the study was compromised by the jovial festivities. When left to his own devices, Vesperias Eigengrau would haunt that study like a vengeful ghost. But something about mum had brought him out of his sad, entombed existence. Diluc couldn’t imagine what she saw in him. Especially with what’s become of him since.

Diluc crossed the foyer. He took the silver doorknob in hand and pushed open the door. The cold air and the rain pressed against him through his jacket and jeans. Pulling his tail out of the way he closed the door one last time with a soft click. He looked up at the dark shape of his childhood home. Sat behind the sharp points of an iron fence the Eigengrau’s stately little manor seemed formidable and imposing. Much like his father, it had been built to resemble the once prominent life the humans constructed on the surface ages ago. For the longest time, Diluc felt nothing but love and admiration for the place, honored to live in a replica of the past rather than one of the newer homes his peers lived in that managed to be both ostentatious and boringly minimal at the same time. Diluc tucked his horns into his hood and adjusted his shoulders, setting off into the dreary streets of the sky city.

The cobblestones were cold on his bare paws, and Diluc grumbled at every puddle he stepped through on his trek across the city. The night was setting in and he could already feel how sore his legs were going to be in the morning and looked forward to resting on the train. He stepped up to the ticket counter, a dingy tin shack barely big enough for the cropped-eared Bruiser manning the kiosk inside. He purchased his ticket for a train that would dump him off in Dublin. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked his messages. 

Nothing. 

There was a mix of giddy elation that his plan was working, and a deepening hurt that neither brother nor father had noticed he was gone after 2 hours. Have they even realized I hadn’t begun dinner yet? Regardless he sighed, accepting things for what they were. Maybe part of him was hoping they’d notice and seek him out before he got to this point. A desperate wish of his heart that they would see what their actions were yielding and try to make amends. Diluc didn’t enjoy knowing better. The other two men of the Eigengrau household could hold grudges till they keeled over, and not be sorry about it. But even still, Diluc had held onto the hope that they could, that now it hurt to accept they hadn’t. But he’d made this decision to leave. And if he was going to stick with it he needed to follow through with the whole plan.

He pulled the SIM card from his phone and put the claw of his thumb through it, discarding the wreckage into a wadded paper towel in the station’s restroom. He conveniently left the phone on the bathroom counter, wiped of his prints as best he could, and hoped that no kind stranger attempted to return it to him. He’d picked this station because it was, like his former home, fashioned in the likeness of the surface’s old-world design, meaning the lubering locomotive moved at a snail’s pace by comparison to everything else. Most chose to favor the air trams for their swift convenience. If Diluc were looking for a fast escape, it would have been the ideal choice, however he was after a more discreet passage. The Old-World railways were less populated, less monitored, and thankfully, had less friendly patrons looking to strike up conversations with strangers. Diluc didn’t need to take more than a cursory glance around to know that the other 4 passengers were happy to remain distant strangers. Barely perceived, hardly more than objects in each other’s backgrounds. Like Diluc, they were against their respective windows, at least 3 rows away from the others, and wholly focused on their own goings-on. Diluc was glad of it.

He ruffled through his duffle for the white box containing the new phone he had picked up last month when he had finally come to his conclusion. He’d been careful in his planning, pulling his money in cash for reasonable expenses, going out with friends, seeing movies, snacks, ride fairs- if his father had any notion the activity in his youngest son’s account was suspicious, he’d never mentioned it. And as of late, Vesperias Eigengrau was very loud and clear when something felt suspicious about his boys. When Diluc had purchased the phone, he was worried he’d come home to his father’s summons to the study, phone and wine glass in hand and glowering. That of course never happened, and to be sure it didn’t he’d taken the precaution of putting it in a gift bag with a label addressed to a friend with a terrible apology pulled out of his ass. He lifted the device out of the box and slipped it into the case. It was nothing special, an older model bought from a cheap half-pound store. He plugged in the code from the little cardstock tag to activate the phone plan and stared at the screen for a moment. Reality was setting in, rather empty and cold like his reflection in the black surface of the screen. He stowed it away and returned to looking through the window as the Ravenhurst skyline rolled by. 

Dublin’s skycity was far less crowded than London’s despite it being Friday evening. He checked a map on his phone to guide his way, and half wished he had planned a visit sooner to get a lay of the land. He stopped at the next train station where his stomach lurched. There was a delay. The next train wouldn’t be able to leave till tomorrow morning. Feeling the first pangs of hunger he decided to accept his morning ticket and try to find a place to eat and rest till then. Instead of freedom, now what he felt was a creeping dread. Around every corner, at every window, he half expected to see his father or the constables asking for him. Fucks sake, Dee. D’you hear yourself? He chided. I doubt either of them realize you’ve actually left for good. Probably think you're trying to make up with Astoria or out dicking around with Dresden. He took a turn off the main streets and steered towards the lower quadrant. As much as the quaint cafes and hotels looked and smelled comforting, he figured they’d be more likely places his father would try to find him in, and more likely for people to take notice of him. So he opted for something a little less opulent. The bar he eventually took a chance on was small and tucked away between a set of dingy buildings. Inside was dim, but warm and smelled like cigarette smoke. He took an available seat at the bar and ordered a meal.

“So, what brings a fella like you in tonight, eh?” The bartender asked as if solely out of obligation to.

“Off on holiday to see some mates.” Diluc spoke from around his glass.

The bartender nodded. “Noticed your bag, you play gigs?”

Diluc stifled a nervous chuckle, “No, just a hobby.”

“Damn, coulda’ used a live show tonight. Slow as shite, it is. Ah well, can’t be helped I guess. So, where’re you from?” She let the last word hang, waiting for him to fill in the gap with his name.

“Wes.” Diluc lied. “Name’s Weston.” He didn’t need to leave a trail, and was already uncomfortable having talked this long. He was aiming to finish his meal and the small talk and hightail it out as inconspicuous as possible.

“Oh, aye? Knew a lad named Weston once in primary. Damn shit-idiot he was.” Spoke the human sat beside him, arousing a hearty chuckle from those around him.

Diluc shrugged. Oh great, now there’s more. Maybe the cafe had been the better choice. 

“So Wes, you fancy an ale with that?” The bartender pointed to his plate.

It was a tempting offer, but realizing she’d need his license snuffed out that idea. “No thanks! Gotta be clear to get to the hotel. Don’t wanna spend the night in the gutter again.” 

The bartender and the guys beside him laughed. The human slung his arm around Diluc’s shoulder and patted the shoulder between them. The sudden closeness made Diluc’s skin crawl. “That was a good one mate! Oi, Rosie, give the lad a pint on me!” 

She filled the glass and sat it down before he could object. Diluc looked between the two for a second. He didn’t know these people or their customs, and wasn't about to turn down a gift from a presumably half-drunk human and risk a bar fight that could draw the attention of the authorities. He lifted the glass and thanked the man. Continuing the small talk, he learned the man, McReary, was a local and apparently ran a junkyard. He bought another round of drinks for the group, and Diluc politely mentioned his interest in “old-world” memorabilia. McReary pulled his phone, and shared photos of the few older relics he’d managed to add to his collection, vehicles brought up by the rich when the sky cities were constructed. Another round of pints accompanied by a few shots of gin were passed out. After tipping his head back straight and hissing at the burn, he chased it with a swig of his ale. Diluc was struck by how kind and inviting these locals were, listening to their stories and catching snippets of inside jokes, he couldn’t help but feel comforted by their apparent extension of friendship with a stranger. Somebody played a tune over the bar speakers, and Diluc excitedly pulled his guitar from its case and began to strum along, McReary and his friends cheered and sang along off-key; complementing the ‘wee pup’ on his skill despite the “missing finger and all.” It was an odd comment but Diluc looked past it, taking a pull from his fifth glass. He felt the room swirl a bit, but forced himself to act steady, worried the kindly older men would think less of him if he showed signs of being drunk after only a couple of pints and a few shots. McReary and his pals asked him where he was posting up for the night and Diluc shrugged.

 “Hadn’t gotten that far yet. Decided I’d stop in for food first, clearly the right decision.”

One of the friends tagging along with McReary mentioned owning a motel by the junkyard and McReary jumped in excitement. 

“Blake, you’re a bloody genius! Weston, mate, why don’t you save yourself a few pounds and stay there? I can show you the few of the vehicles we got, it’ll be grand. Not a 20 minute walk from the train station too! You can rest easy not having to sprint for your morning train.”

“Morning train?” How odd. Diluc didn’t remember mentioning his train ride, but he couldn't remember not mentioning it. Maybe he had. Truthfully, he could actually recall much of the conversation since he pulled out his guitar anyway. He looked down to be sure he’d at least remembered to lock the case. He pitched to the left and righted himself, over correcting just a tad and bumping shoulders with McReary. Rosie slid pint number 6 into his hand and he thanked her, offering a wink. He wasn’t sure why she looked worried. But he tapped a five pound note on the table as a tip. 

“Working in cash I see, that’s a smart lad. Hard to track that way!”

“Whyyy would anyone be tracking me for?” Diluc asked and turned to look over his shoulder. As he lifted his glass to his lips before turning around, he felt resistance and looked back in time to see McReary move his hand from his glass. Diluc sputtered a laugh. “Trying to steal my drink, eh? Well I guess you paid for it.” He offered the ale to the man.

“No, no! Just making sure you don’t spill it.” McReary smiled awfully wide, but Diluc was certain it was just because he was drunk. After all, he was drunk enough that the ale was starting to taste weird.

“Oi, Lad. Won’t you chug that down and we can head out. It’s damn near midnight, and the wife will have my head if I’m not home soon.”

Diluc gave a thumbs up and downed the glass. He slung his bags over his shoulder, catching himself on the bar with a half giggled “woah!” McReary held out his hand and Diluc passed him the duffle. The other friend held out his hand too but Diluc turned down the offer. He may be drunk but he had never trusted others to carry his bass. As nice as these fellows were, that wouldn’t be changing.

The walk started out in high spirits, they were laughing and joking, half-singing half-croaking songs. Diluc wasn’t sure how long he had been walking, or where they were going, but at some point he noticed the other guys weren’t as jovial as before. They stopped responding to his jokes, stopped trying to catch him as he tottered down the sloping road. When he asked what was wrong McReary would flatly say, 

“Just tired lad, we work for a living.” Diluc wasn’t sure what he meant by that but followed along. He wasn’t sure if it was 10 minutes or 30 when he finally stopped walking. The world had begun to shift from the drunkard's twirl to a strange melting and pulsating… thing. He had to look hard at the ground and trace a foot over a particular spot because he couldn’t be sure if it was flat, a step, or a cliff. When he realized it didn’t matter because he staggered into it anyway, he had the idea to look around to see if anybody else saw that too. He instead discovered he had no idea where the bloody hell he was. 

“Ok boys, isss been fun, but I think I’m going to head back up to-“

“You ain't going nowhere, dog-boy.” One of the men rounded on him, grabbing Diluc by one of his ears and yanked him towards the road.

Diluc attempted to push away when McReary whipped around and pulled his friend off, hollering at him to knock it off. “Sorry Lad, Dale gets a bit moody when he’s tired.” 

Diluc insisted on heading to a hotel but McReary calmly explained how Blake’s motel wasn’t that far. Just a few more minutes.

Diluc was tired, and the strange waving the world was making had started to make his eyes hurt, and the gin was starting to unsettle his stomach. He did his best to follow along though. He didn’t want to make them mad after they’d been so nice.

He hardly noticed when things went dark and he blinked his eyes open to his back against the wet gutter, the old seeping into his bones and his elbow screaming in pain. Dale and Blake were cursing between themselves as they heaved the young Lycanbuck to his feet and shoved him forward when he was somewhat steady. Diluc fought hard to stay present. But it felt like every time he blinked they were in a new part of town. One particular blink, the tallest fellow, Rayes? Hayes? Whoever he was, was tucked under Diluc’s shoulder and the lot were fussing politely with an elderly woman about their friend just being a tad drunk right now. Diluc tried to wave but nearly swatted hats-his-name in the face. The old lady let them alone and they shuffled off. Another blink and Diluc was sat beside a lamp post, and in front of him was the seediest looking motel he had ever seen. Oh no. There’s definitely bugs in that place. The thought made him chuckle. He realized his duffle was gone and that all around them was a tall fence surrounding the property. The barbed wire at the top sent a tremor of caution down his spine that his drunken head couldn’t process. Of course it’s secure, he doesn’t want people stealing his shit. But it felt rather creepy. Two of the men were outside, scowling at hi while two more were walking back grinning.

“Alright lads, he’s in the books.” McReary called.

“Should we load him up?” Rayes-Hayes-Hughes grumbled, tossing a thumb over his shoulder at Diluc.

“Yeah pack him up, our wee pup here may earn us a pretty penny.” Blake’s missing teeth really stood out in that awful grin he made.

They made their way to his sides, and Diluc meant to protest, but he barely managed to limply lift his arm. His limbs felt like lead. His head was throbbing and he was cold and wet. Maybe they’d meant they’d just rob him and planned to dump him in their dirty motel and overcharge him in the morning, holding his stuff hostage till he was forced to call his da to pay them.. But Diluc felt that wasn’t quite right. His eyelids were so heavy and he was suddenly so tired. He hadn’t realized that he’d fallen asleep.

Until he woke face down on the cold metal surface of a military grade kennel. He struggled to believe it at first. He was so groggy and hungover, his head was swimming with the worst migraine he’d ever had, and his body felt like he’d been hit by a truck and left in the cold overnight. As he rolled onto his side, it occurred to him that he had. A blue plastic tarp had been thrown around the kennel in a half-assed attempt. As he looked up, he saw towering masses of rusted vehicles. Their crushed and crumpled carcasses forming an impenetrable wall around them. Every second he took in made his pulse quicken and his hopes for starting a life of freedom dwindling like a candle falling into the sea.

He tried to sit up, but the kennel was just small enough that he could only manage to lift himself a little past his elbows. He gripped the bars with what little strength he had and peered out, trying to get a glimpse of any chance of escape. Almost wishing he hadn’t when he realized there were none. There were other kennels, most empty. And the form laying in the one across the way, he couldn’t be sure, but appeared to be lifeless. His voice was hoarse and though try as he might to holler out, little more escaped his chest but a brittle wheeze. A small rattle caught his attention, and he saw a bit of paper, stuffed inside a sheet protector and crudely zip tied to the lower portion of the kennel. With effort he managed to squeeze a hand through the bars and lift it to read.

SOLD.  SHIP TO CAPENNA-CENTER.USA. 

Diluc lowered himself to the kennel floor. The sky told him that night was settling in. He’d missed his train. He’d be missing much more than that soon. He curled into himself, pulling his wet coat around him and trying to warm himself as best he could. Maybe his father was looking for him. Little good that would do. He tried to steady his breathing as the full reality of what was happening set in. He’d run away, making every step along the way as hard to trace as he could. Purposely abandoning his phone. Actively choosing destinations and locations to avoid leaving a trail. Making every choice they tell you not to make in those crime documentaries. They’d never find him. 

Congratulations Diluc, your plan worked perfectly and now there really will be no way of anyone finding you.