Soulforged - 2. Recognized

"Soulforged - 1. Rovers and Refugees" 

Soulforged

chapter 2 - Recognized


         The man sitting against the wall knows that he is recognized. Still famous,
is that a good thing ? He rather wants people have forgotten about him.

        "Darian Wades, am I right ?" The two men looked each other in the face.
"Or you look a lot like him." Jake has a gut feeling about it.
"But, are you mister Wades ?"
A little nod; our biker has a name once again, Darian Wades.
Jake shows a surprised smile, he walks up to Darian and reaches out his hand. Uneasy by this gesture, Darian reaches out and shakes Jake's hand loosely.
"Sir, I'm glad to meet you, it's an honor."
-"Why would you say a thing like that ?" replied Darian. "I am nothing but a disgrace now.
Reduced to a scavenger, roaming, with no purpose anymore."

        Disappointed, Jake looks at Darian. "You changed the world once. Did you came back to fight the wrong once again ?
I'm on the run with my family, my wife Cynthia and daughter Linda. Please tell me that you can guide or direct us to a save haven. Fill our hearts with hope."
Darian stares in front of him at the opposite wall of the room.
-"Don't look at me for a savior, people depending on me mostly end up hurt."
Jake sighs and places a hand on his forehead. He takes a sip of beer.
"Your best chances are to travel to the hills, southeast. There are probably settlements." Darians words of advice echoed slightly in the can of beer which he almost has finished. Jake sits down behind the bike, about one and a halve meter from Darian. He spots his daughter Linda on the right, sitting on the third step of the stair, her feet one step below. Her torso turned to see between the stairs. She's watching the stranger.
-"Where will you go to ?" asks Jake.
-"Don't know yet."
Darian lets his view wander across the hall, until he sees the girl on the left sitting on the stairs.
"Hi, Linda." Gently he greeted her. Linda smiles and giggles.
-"Hi." Then she turns around and leans against the siderail of the stairs.


        "I'm going to leave you to rest now. We should get some sleep too." Jake stood up, dissappointed by Darians indifference.
How did this once crowned knight became so down ? Where did his fighting spirit go ? Jake squishes the empty beer can, and then throws it across the hall. By the sound of this littering, Darian keeps staring in front of him,
a man with a narrow lust for life.
"We'll move on soon. We are almost out of food, and everything else. You may join us if you like. Stay with us, let's try to reach a settlement."
-"No thanks, I'm not interested."
Darian puts his empty can aside, against the wall.
"I'll be gone when the morning comes." He scuffles his legs, they have been laying still for to long. Almost feeling the blood of the wanderer running through them, as far as his own biological veins go.
-"Where will you go to ?" Again this question is raised.
-"North."
Jake shakes his head. -"I advise you to stay away from Athendra."
-"Athendra ?"
-"Yes, that's what it's called now."
With his right forearm leaning against the sloping steel profile of the stairs above, Jake continued. "The city is not divided with gangs anymore.
More than a year ago, one well-organized gang took over every other, gaining territory. This gang was led by a man called Feanor. He proclaimed himself as a sovereign ruler. His own little state Athendra is now what the entire city used to be. For the last two months his, well I could call it an army, is scouting out in a wide area around the city. We feared they would find us, and I don't want to think about what they would do to us. We fled from an apartement building in a nearby village east of Athendra. There were other refugees staying in the building with us, families. We left before they did. I hope they are in safety now. To them bandits we are all but prey."

        Darian stands up. He moves to his bike and takes his bag of the seat, and puts it on the ground. Jake leans underneath the stairs, he can reach to Darian. He places his left hand on Darians shoulder. They look each other right in the eyes.
"Don't be foolish, you have means of transport, leave these parts."
-"I'll see what comes as it may."
With these words said, Jake goes upstairs, his daughter Linda follows him. But before she goes entirely to the top of the stairs, she leans far over the railing.
-"Sleep well, Darian."


        A mind that's trying to repress every memory, so shallow that it hurts the mental being. Darian dozes off, lying on his bike. His head rocks a little on the edge of the seat, just as far as his spine allows him. Restless, his feet rub against the front tire.

        Darians eyes open. The steel steps of the stairs above him is the first thing he sees. Orange reflection on it, slightly flickering. At his right in the middle of the room sits Linda, with a candle besides her. She is holding the can of cola Darian gave her. It's all consumed hours ago, but she holds it as a way to show her grateful.
Darian swings his legs of the steering bar to the left, raises his torso and ends up sitting on the seat sideways. He looks at Linda. Her eyes meet his.
What's it like for a young woman to grow up in this scooped out world ? Always on the run, sharing shelters of ruins with her parents. At least she's not on her own.
She is wearing worn out sneakers, a jeans cut off above the knees and a man's shirt in different shades of grey. This is not the original color of the shirt; it probably used to be white, judging by the collar, it was once part of a suit.
An image comes from Darian's memory; himself on the cover of a magazine, dressed in one of his suits about fifteen years ago, a young man with a desire to change the world. He's holding the world on the palm of his hand. Really, that was the image on the cover of that particular magazine.

        The girl in front of him has got to be around sixteen years old. The curves on her body tell that she is blossoming into a woman. Her blond hair, darkened for it isn't washed for a long time, goes slantly to her shoulders, in little waves of curls. She rocks softly from side to side.
With a piercing stare, her hazel eyes caress the middle-aged man.
She leans forward out of her sitting position and crawls to the front of the bike. Her hand reaches out and touches front swing arm of the bike.
"Is it fast ?"
-"Very."
Linda stands up, placing one hand against the steel stairs above. As she turns to her right, away from Darian, he can make out the shape of her breasts, by the way the large shirt moves around her body. Darian puts his feet on the ground, and stands up from his bike seat. Linda shakes up when she hears a metal 'CLANK', when Darian accidentally hits the frame of his bike with his left shin. The blond hair swing as the girl turns her head over her shoulder and looks at the door at the top of the stairs. Then her eyes roll down to see Darian behind her, with his blue leather jacket open. She turns her head away again as she spots Darian approaching. They both start to breath more intensely, so much that you can here the air going in and out their lungs, worked up with desire. He stands close behind her. The brown boots touch the sneakers in front. The man raises and reaches his left arm underneath Linda's left arm, which is still raised up against the side of the stairs. The forearm bends, bringing the left hand to Linda's neck. The fingertips land softly on her throat, followed by the palm of the hand, gently. Linda then feels Darian place his right hand on her hip. The left hand moves caressing across her throat, till the top of the middle finger reaches her right ear, and by the sense of this touch moving back to the middle of the neck. The hand moves down to the top of her chest, untill the v-shaped edge of the shirt brings it to a stop.
Linda inhales deeply.
The little movement it produces in Darian's arm, delivers him more delight. Linda tilts her head back, eyes closed. The back of her head touches his chest. Softly rocking her head against the muscular torso, her shoulders rubbing against his stomach. His right hand moves down the side of her leg, slips under her shirt and slides back up again, until it reaches the edge of the jeans. His fingers wringle her tucked in t-shirt out, and feel her bare belly. With the palm of the hand he moves further up and to the middle, caressing the soft skin.
After what seems like a half a minute, his hands stop moving. Darian and Linda are standing still, enjoying this position, a tender holding.

        The growling of a steam-engine swells on. Darian releases his grip on Linda. Places his hand on her shoulders and guides her to the front of the stairs. He gives her a little push and the girl reacts to it. She runs up the stairs.
In the the front of the hall is a large port. Darian walks fast to the side of it. The dawn of morning light is coming through the edges. The sound is getting louder; a truck is coming nearer. He has a great view of the street through the narrow opening between the port and the wall. There it is, the old army truck from last night is heading north. It's towing a vehicle;
another truck, a white truck, the chased one. The front window is shot entirely to pieces. The trucks are linked together by a towing platform mounted on the army truck, holding the front wheels of the damaged white truck half a meter above the road. And covering the white truck in a light steamy fog.
Additional sound of another engine joins in; a car is following the trucks. It is also towing something, but not a vehicle. Darian can only see a glimpse of it when the car passes by. He does not need to see it whole. After what he has seen in his lifetime, his imagination can fill the scene in. Not shocked anymore by the sight of bodies being dragged behind a vehicle,... totally undressed after a kilometer, flesh torn off on every side. With every turn the tower takes a new mark of scenery alongside the road is smashed into the body, and the head,... the bleeding to death painted out on the executioning vehicles traject.

        Darian packs his bike, the bag strapped on the back behind the seat. He tries to rotate the three barrels of the canon. It hardly turns 120 degrees. Both his hands grab one barrel and shake the weapon back and forth in it's mount. He swings it again, now the barrels make almost two turns. The tension of the mechanism seems restored. The black jet-pilot like helmet and the black gloves come on again. He looks up to the top of the stairs. There stands Jake, Cynthia and Linda, looking at the man as how they first met him; the lone introvert biker, underneath the shell of a forgotten hero, a knight without a quest, the new age warrior with no cause,...
silently wishing each other farewell.
The bike starts, the dual-chamber-steam-engine is grummingly waking up. Darian steps to the garage port on the side of the building and pushes hard to open it. Going back to the bike and swings his right leg over it. The left foot seeks the bottom of the frame, 'CLANK', a metal sound echoes in the hall, the foot's movement too fast and too hard.
'Easy, easy', he thinks.
He looks down at his left, coördinating his foot to the bike's stand. The stand swings back. He walks his bike backwards and turns it to the exit. Kicks in first gear, releases the clutch lever and rolls outside. A white cloud disperses itself in the hall. Darian quickly gets off and back on again to close the garage port.
He drives alongside the outside wall toward the street, passing the corner of the building. Looking left, he sees the trucks and car are already out of sight. He drives a little more to the edge of the sidewalk, looks right into the street.
Oh no, what does he see in the distance, two blocks away,... the dark grey car that was attacking the truck last night.
'I am a sitting duck.'
He won't stand and fight here, Linda and her parents can get caught if an upcoming battle turns out for the worst for him. Quickly thinking, he drives out on the street and turns left, 20 meters away on the intersection he takes a wide turn to the left, allowing him to stop in the middle. A look to the left, and yes, the driver of the car has seen him. The mechanical bull is zeroing in fast, breezing steam from under the hood. Darian speeds away, leaving the secondary road behind him. The large gray station-wagon takes a wild turn around the intersection, causing the rear wheels into a large drift.

        The urban streets fill with the howling of engines. A horse grazing on a patch of grass and weed on a road divider get's startled and looks up. The animal turns and runs away from what's coming. Darian spots the galloping horse in front of him. He can avoid it. The horse stops and snorts when the motorcycle passes him. Now concerned with the pursuer, the animal runs to the side of the road.
A near miss,
although the man in the driving seat of the car couldn't care less. He is more worried with the fact that he can't keep the pace of the bike, as powerful as his car may be.
By the sight of wood boards on the road, Darian franticly brakes. So fast that the two wheels break away from a straight line; the front to the left and the rear to the right. He steers to control his heading. Right before the wood boards he turns the throttle fully open again. The driven front wheel catapults a wood board against the underside of the frame, bounces off to the ground, there is the back wheel, which launches the board into the air. Three or more get airborne.
The driver of the car sees the wooden boards land hundred meters in front of him. His four wheeled vehicle does not need to slow down. The speeding car blazes over the boards scattered on the road.
More rubble ahead; concrete remains and several bricks on this side of road. Darian sees his chance and steers sharply, on to a pedestrian over-path of the road divider, coming on the other side of the road and he accelerates away.
The car can not drive through this obstacle. The wheels lock, bringing the car to a screeching stop. Slowly the driver must maneuver his car over the road divider, not to damage the tires. He makes it over, the chase can continue.
The road takes a long turn to the right. Going about 130 kilometers an hour, Darian needs to lean right, hovering the side of his body just above the road, his helmet close to the steel railing on the center divider. The protection pad on his knee occasionally get's scratches from stones or other garbage in the shadow of the railing. Calculated and tolerated.
But too reckless he is.
Coming out of the turn he sees the next obstacle too late. A burned-out bus is blocking the road. It's not possible to swerve left on to the sidewalk at this speed. He breaks on the rear wheel only, causing it to lock and hereby turning the bike almost sideways. The bike and its rider slam into the side of the bus. Darian quickly regains his wits. His left foot is pinned between the footrest on the bike and the side of the bus. The steering bar has penetrated the metal body of the bus.
He can sway the bike a bit, his foot is free, the bike seems to be stuck by the steering bar. He slides forward and puts his right leg on the tarmac. With his left he starts kicking the side of the bus, next to the where the steering bar entered. Kicking very hard the metal gives way. The punctured hole gets enlarged. Darian pulls the bike away, the now torn rubber handle acted as a plug. The clutch lever is broken in half, but still enough length to operate it. Luckily the engines boiler is still burning and producing pressure, due to the hydraulic system in the gearbox that automatically sets the transmission in neutral when the drive system is getting jammed.
The car will be coming around the bend soon. Darian turns the bike around towards the sidewalk, goes around the bus and leaves it behind him speeding away. The driver of the car just caught a glimpse of the bike passing the bus. He slows down, and drives on to the sidewalk. The gap left between the back of the bus and the wall of the building at the sidewalks must be three centimeters less than the car is wide. The car presses his way through, bending metal with metal at one side, scratching the metal on the other side on the bricks of the decaying building.
Five hundred meters further, Darian comes to a large round traffic exchanger. He follows it 180 degrees counterclockwise, then driving back on the grass plain with the road ringed around it. The middle is elevated, so he has an overlook of what is coming, his pursuer. Darian flips a switch on his dashboard on, then placing his left thumb on a mini joystick an his right thumb on a button, respectively next to each rubber handle. He lowers his shoulders and helmet.
The car coming toward the traffic exchanger at a relatively high speed has spotted the biker. A second man in the car stands out of the opening in the roof, holding a rifle against his shoulder. He aims and fires a shot. But with the car still moving fast, the bullet comes nowhere near his target.
The car is at the end of the road. Darian moves the joystick, and by the push of the button a salvo of three grenades is launched at the car.
Two hit the target, flying close by each other they shatter the windscreen and entering the car.
They explode with a burst of fire. In just a few seconds the entire car is a rolling fireball, out of control. It hits a concrete block in its way and thereby turns away to the left. With still a high velocity it drives upon a terrain next to the traffic changer, crashes into a dish, tips over and winds up in some bushes.
They quickly catch the fire.


"Soulforged - 3. Land of Immortals"