Desperation

Walking to the city during the day is way more immersive than returning home at night. There was no darkness left to veil the surroundings. Reality was shown in all of its cruelness. 

No matter where he looked, there was a mass of people sprawled on the sidewalks. Filthy, and smeared, the stench of death wafted through the air. He couldn't tell apart the living from the dead, they were equally unmoving. 

The scene was heartbreaking. Hopelessness and futile endurance lined their poor souls. It was almost like a premonition of unavoidable misery- that no matter how much one perseveres, the world will crush them without regard. 

Mark walked this path every day and committed the ghastly sight to memory on each passing. This is what will happen if he gives up- if he slacks, if he were to challenge life without his utmost resolve. He was walking on glass. One faulty step would destroy everything, leaving but a profound despair. 

There was no salvation in sight, his situation was stable at best, but still getting worse. All he felt for the future was dread. And so he whistled.

The past wouldn't return, and everything to come was looking bleak, what else to do but enjoy the moment? 

'Now then, what next..." 

The house is unsafe, work won't start until the sun sets, and he doesn't have enough money to spend on entertainment. 

At that moment he heard a quiet noise from a few meters away. He looked to his left, only to see an alley. In an impoverished part of the city, is it really a good idea to peek his head into such a place?

Staring for a few moments, he reached out with his mind and tried to evoke a feeling of confidence. Even though there was no specific target in mind, he was able to affect the area around him to a certain extent. 

'Oh my, what's this?' 

There walked a kitten no longer than his arm, its grey fur blending perfectly with its urban surroundings. It tentatively looked at him while hiding its intentions to run. Mark instilled some ease in the cat and slowly reached with his arm, putting a finger out. The kitten took a few hesitant steps before sniffing his finger. After a few seconds, it rubbed its cheek against Mark's hand and started to lick it. 

In turn, Mark scratched its chin and stroked its back. Its tail fluttered in the air in an expression of bliss. Comfort truly could be found in the darkest of places. 

The cat suddenly turned its head toward the depths of the alley, seeming to have noticed something. It dashed into the darkness and left Mark with his arm dangling. The ephemeral moment was fading into the past. He rose and left the alley, knowing that the young kitten would likely not live to see him again. 

The young man continued his trek to the city, once more returning to the problem of an improvised schedule.

Then as if the heavens had given him an answer, two figures appeared in front of him. 

'Wow, first I nearly lost my eye to Mom, now this! Lucky me!' 

He watched as the two vagrants before him each pulled out a small knife. They looked to be nearly twenty and should have been in college, but life probably dealt them a bad hand. Now they had to delve into depravity.

He looked at them in the eyes. 

"What gang are you guys in?"

The two tramps shifted, caught off guard by the question. They glanced at each other questioningly. Was this person insane? Does he not know the position he is in? They had weapons, he didn't! 

Both of them hesitated before one finally answered, revealing a copper coin with a hole punched through it. 

"The Spheks." 

Mark looked at them reticently, his calm exterior unmoved.

"Ah."

'Goddamn it!' 

Under his indifference lay waves of anxiety. Threats are indeed effective. Despite having experienced lethal situations on numerous occasions, he only learned how to hide his alarm, not erase it. 

Well, at least he learned how to deal with them. 

Mark lunged at the two, their movements stiffening in pure shock. He launched his fist at the scoundrel on the left, feeling it connect as the force from the blow reverberated through his body. 

The second wretch had just broken from the trance and raised his knife in an attempt to drive it into Mark's back, only to be callously kicked in the gut. 

Mark turned back to the first one, who was now clutching his bleeding nose with one hand, the knife in the other, and dashed at him once more. The scoundrel swung but was easily predicted. Mark stopped before the flash of steel, and as the momentum from the swing ended, he grabbed the man's wrist and jerked it while pushing on the upper arm, dislocating his elbow. 

His partner had already stood up and was brazenly rushing towards Mark. 

He sidestepped and watched with his black eyes as he extended his leg, tripping the young lad. The man fell to the floor in a sudden motion, an impact resounding as his head directly collided with the rough pavement. 

Mark stepped back and looked at the two. 

'That should do it.' 

But the wretches rose once more, determination flaring in their eyes, one clutching his dislocated arm, the other rubbing his ringing head. Their expressions were dreadful. 

"How pathetic"

They were probably going to die if they couldn't collect enough money. The Spheks was the most ruthless gang Mark knew of. His actions were hurting their chances of surviving the night. 

But that wasn't his problem. It was his prosperity or theirs. Either he would suffer or they would. 

He strode forward.

One of them tried to throw a punch but was too exhausted to put force behind it. Mark grabbed the assailant's hand and kicked him between the legs. The young lad let out a guttural cry before fainting. 

The other stumbled toward him with an anguished shout. He was punched in the gut as Mark grabbed his hair, then struck him in the face. His vision went black as his head hit the ground once more. A ringing noise overwhelmed him as he faded from consciousness. 

Mark waited for a moment.

"Now it's done." 

He checked their pulses, admittedly having held back so as to not kill them. They were both still alive. 

After that, he rummaged through their clothes and took out two wallets. Both of them had barely enough money to buy one meal. 

Mark sighed and began to walk, leaving the two young wretches propped up against a building. 

They looked like all the others he had passed on the street. Now they would suffer a similar fate. Crippled and powerless against the world. It truly was a shame. 

Bright futures were obscured by the pollution of war on society, just as the smog from the weapons factory shrouded the sun.

The two were unlucky and brazen, being forced into poverty and joining a gang. Now they were doomed. They won't be able to fill their stomachs again. 

Mark felt a bubbling sensation in his gut.

He smiled.

'Oh right, I haven't eaten breakfast yet.'