Consequences

Mateus blinked, his mind still trapped at the edge of dreams and reality. The first thing he felt was a rough sheet on his skin. Then a pounding headache, with a bright light in his eyes. Then his racing heartbeat - like he had been running a marathon. He took deep breaths, trying to slow it down, but nothing changed.

A minute later, the light faded away, and Mateus looked at his surroundings. He tried to speak, but broke into dry coughs instead. His ears started ringing, and he saw a man in white handing him a glass of water with a straw. The man's lips moved, but Mateus heard nothing.

After drinking, settling his cough, and calming down, the tinnitus faded, and Mateus was able to hear the man talking.

"Better now? You're name is Mateus, yes? Nod if I'm right." The man said, and Mateus nodded obligingly. "It seems you're not suffering a new bout of Amnesia, so that's good. Unluckily, you have several other new conditions, which were brought on through your reckless actions during the conflict."

"Who are you? What happened? Did we win?" Mateus asked worriedly. He felt terrible - and the only thing worse than waking up in hospital and being told you're sick, is finding you still need to run for your life from Mutant Beasts.

"Florinad city survived the attack, and the walls have been repaired, but many died. The conflict ended three weeks ago, but the final mop-up finished just yesterday." The man said, shaking his head sadly.

Mateus nearly had a panic attack over the doctor's words. "What? It's, three weeks? How long was I here?"

"Two months. The first battle was followed by consecutive attacks of decreasing scale. I understand you were particularly reckless, and incapacitated yourself just some dozen hours into the conflict. Still, the small bird you contracted managed to earn you some merits - but her condition is still unstable, and she is currently undergoing treatment in the intensive care unit."

"Will the pretty bird be okay?" Mateus asked urgently, trying to touch the man's sleeve, but his arms had little strength, and he couldn't get a grip on the fabric.

"Her health is improving. Of greater worry is your hybrid Tinsureal. It has suffered severe exhaustion, deep trauma to its right forepaw, and consequences from forced growth. What were you thinking, boy?" The man asked disapprovingly.

"I needed to get, supplies, to the..." Mateus explained, but started coughing halfway. He turned blind once more from lack of air, and passed out as his ears started ringing again.

As Mateus fell into darkness again, he had never felt so scared. Not even when he stared down a gun, held in the hands of someone who should have been his friend. His only friend.

The past appeared around him like a phantom. The alleyway, puddles reflecting neon lights, a face aged beyond its years, and despair.

All the buildings were made of bricks, slicked with moss, with every window covered by iron bars. The glass was fragmented, still struggling to resist the fetid breeze.

Shadows dance upon the walls, but the people who cast them are lost in the past. The alley remains empty, as the scene plays out on the wall.

Three police officers face down with fifteen gang members. Guns are pointing everywhere, and faint echoes sound out in the night. Mateus can't hear the words - he doesn't want to remember them.

His shadow was shoved forward from the gang group, arguing and raging, swearing at the police, trying to convince everyone that he wasn't the snitch. Nobody believed him.

Forced to his knees, staring around at that sea of faces, one of the gang was given the order to shoot. Mateus looked at them hopefully. It was his friend - surely he wouldn't do it.

The shadow man stepped up, placed a hand on his shoulders comfortingly, gave him a kind and toothy grin - and shot him.

First bullet was disbelief.

Second bullet was denial.

Third bullet was betrayal.

Fourth bullet was anger.

The fifth, and last bullet, delivered when he had fallen into the trash and waste water of the alley - that was grief.

As the shadow Mateus died, the police did nothing. They'd never cared about him at all.

Darkness rose like a tide once more, swallowing the alley and all its memories. This time, Mateus did not dream.