Chapter 3
Da’rius
4:30 p.m.
Rick sat in an ugly lime green Electro-bus eating his muffin while listening to the whirr of electricity as the E-bus hovered down the streets. The Underdistrict was just over the river in Bruford, it would not have been a bad walk if it had not been for his mangled mess of a foot. He groaned as he looked down at his relatively normal looking foot. He knew mangled was too strong a word, but he could not help but feel himself grow hot with anger whenever he tried to walk. His foot refused to allow him the range of movement he was used to.
Growling slightly, something he used to never do, he looked away from his foot and turned on his Nexitech communication device, a device with an earbud that was wrapped around to his right eye allowing him to access the N.P.D.H, the Nexus city Public Data Hub. He planned to browse Jakson’s personal data hub, the place he would upload a lot of his music, sell merch, and upload places he would be playing. Rick picked a song he liked titled Somethings got to change (Somethings got to go) a loud yet relaxing piece with overlapping, contrasting and yet complementing Fuzz Board created sounds paired with Jakson’s vocals that could range from soft sweet and very classical sounding to vocals that screamed, and sounded frayed, yet packed with emotion. The first lines came like a truck screaming through his ear.
I saw,
I felt,
Death looming over.
A massive bird with teeth in its maw.
With razors ‘neath its pelt.
Death looming over.
Yet no one runs for cover.
They tell… me,
“It’s alright.
deaths looming over.
It is life.
Can’t you see,
Deaths looming over.
You cannot fight,
Or you will be cut with his razor knife.
Deaths looming over.
Something must change!
Something must go!
We are trapped in a cage!
And they will not let us… go.
Rick knew the bird was in reference to the government, a distinctly anti-government song yet good art is good art. And what Jackson makes was good art.
The sound of whirring grew less frantic, signaling that the E-bus was coming to a stop. Rick looked up and noted an old bar with rusted metal bars on the windows set into a three-story metal building. The two stories above the bar were hotel rooms, probably used as an illicit brothel considering the number of women with the tell-tell signs of eaiz usage with droopy eyes and red tinted veins wearing high heels, torn fishnets, ripped shorts that showed more than he wished to see and shirts that were basically just glorified bras.
“Right” Rick shook his head. “Why was Jakson here of all places.” Looking around he noticed a couple of people looking at him, causing him to realize he had spoken aloud. Giving everyone a quick nod, he then walked off the bus and tried not to look anyone in the eyes.
Moving towards the door set into a divot in the ground with the faded lettering on the door marking it as the Underdistrict bar he heard calls of “hey sugar if you are lonely that can be remedied for a bit of coin, we could kiss, cuddle or just have a conversation.”
Rick sighed, then smiled at the older lady, (or at least he thought she was older) with a grand total of four teeth in her entire head. “Young miss could I ask if you have seen a young man, about average height, black hair with red streaks and carrying in a fuzz board a couple night back?”
“Oh, a copper! They always pay well.” She grinned a four toothed grin. “We could get a room and talk about it.”
“How much do you pay?”
“Only 2 G’s an hour baby.”
“How about I give you 4 and you tell me what I want, no going to your room.”
“Humph a stick in the mud,” she sighed, “well for that price I cannot turn you down so yeah, I saw him enter with the board, he also wasn’t interested with a pat on the head, then not two hours there was a police raid on the bar, terrible thing that. But I did not see the man you are referencing leave.”
“So, you did not see him leave at all?”
“Honey,” she huffed slightly. “I am a working woman, by the time everyone was actually leaving I was upstairs comforting a Seffalon gentleman with his blond hair, who had been traumatized by the events.”
“Did he have an accent?”
“Honey, he sounded native to Nexus.”
“Where did he go?”
“Do you think I keep track of my clients once they leave?”
“Well, I figured I would check, Thank you.” Rick inserted his C-stick into hers and transferred the 4 G’s. “I will not keep you any longer.” He turned from the prostitute and headed into the bar. Entering he found there were a few patrons scattered about the bar drinking, with a young girl, barely legal, dancing provocatively on stage to music that was distinctly non-poetic and blunt with its subject matter, which was primarily that of sex.
He moved around the room talking to the people there asking after Jakson and Da’rius. Most remembered Jakson though none could remember what had happened in the chaos of the raid. The bartender remembered both, particularly Da’rius who apparently lived nearby and was a regular.
“Do you by any chance know where Da’rius lives?”
“Ah, ye I know where ‘e lives, I remember where all me regulars live.”
“Well, that’s a little creepy yet useful.”
“I’m bein’ sarcastic ya man. All I know is ‘e works down at the docks, uhhhh, dock F warehouse U if I remember correctly. And mind ya only reason I do be rememberin’ is due to many jokes that can be found in working at FU.” The bartender roared a thunderous belly laugh and lightly punched Rick in the shoulder. “But that be the extant of me knowledge, hope that helps.”
“It does greatly” Rick smiled before turning and limping his way out. Once in the sunlight he stretched and steeled himself for the hike to the correct dock. While normally it would have been a ten-minute walk with his foot it would probably be twenty minutes and much more exhausting.
Rick stepped up to the warehouse twenty minutes later his hair slicked down from sweat, and he had difficulty keeping hold of his cane due to how sweaty his hand was. He limped painfully over to a bench and sat down. “I over did it.” He sighed before flagging a portly worker down and enquiring about Da’rius. Luckily, he was working that day and the portly worker hurried off to fetch him.
Rick only had to wait a few minutes before he saw the portly dock worker coming back with a blond-haired youth in tow.
“Yes sir?” Da’rius asked, rubbing his dirty hands on his equally dirty pants. “What can I do for you?”
“You were at the Underdistrict bar the night of the raid. Why did it happen?”
“Oh, um,” he nervously rubbed his hands against his pants again. “I’m not- I’m not sure sir.”
“Please, I just came from there.” Rick bluffed pretending he knew why the raid had happened.
“Oh, well in that case um, well I-I know there was a gathering that night of people the government didn’t like.”
“Da’rius I am going to need you to include more specifics.”
“Oh, well. It was the-the brethren of the Holy depths.”
“And why was Jakson there?”
“No reason. Playing music.” Da’rius said fast. “Playing music and uninvolved.”
Rick knew that sounded like a lie the way he said it, so he went for the bluff again “I just came from there I said no lies.”
“Well, he might- he might have been promoting rebellious ideas.” Da’rius looked down.
“Uh.” This was a turn Rick had not been expecting, Jakson had been arrested for traitorous speech and belief most likely. He would have been taken to the prison in the Upper Nexus District for re-education, though rick had never heard of anyone leaving that place. Jakson broke the law and that was that. “No,” Rick said, his hands felt numb. “You are not under arrest. Thank you for your time you can leave.” Rick did not notice him go, he simply sat staring at the water two emotions screaming at him. One said find him, kill all in your way, another said go home you did what you could.