Fog

Mark peeked out from the side of a building, watching his house and everything around it, looking for potential dangers, especially Anton. 

The street remained peaceful - wretches sprawled around the ground and misery freely traveling through the wind in agonized groans. 

He eventually left the cover of his building and walked to his humble abode, followed by the gazes of those without homes. 

Shattered glass lay on the floor, and the window to his bedroom split with the gaping fracture he had created. 

His door opened, and a stunning brunette ran to his side. 

"Mark! Are you alright?" 

He nodded. 

"Nice to see you again... Carol. I got roughed up a bit by a punk but I'll probably be fine. Have you seen Anton around here?" 

She shook her head. 

"The last time I saw him was when he chased after you. After that, he never came back."

It seems that Anton probably moved on to better things. Good riddance to that man, the time he already spent on Mark was pushing reasonable limits. There was no need to devote so much time to such futile efforts. 

Good riddance. 

"In that case, how about we go out somewhere? Being cooped up in my house probably hasn't been fun. Besides, I'd rather not stay here for too long. I'm not about to wait for our next home invader. 

Carol smiled. 

"Sure, why not?" 

...

The two walked under the autumn afterglow in silence. Their light steps resounded through the streets they passed. 

Mark enjoyed the temperate wind that blew through his air, warming him to a perfect degree and instilling a nearly fatigued feeling of comfort in his mind. 

One of his hands remained inside his windbreaker, lightly grabbing onto his Luger. 

Maybe there were some dangerous effects from the gun of the Spheks, but the calmness it brought was what he desperately needed. His mind cooled and distracted itself from doubt, caution, and worry. 

All that remained was a chilling limbo. 

It was a comforting feeling, a bliss that Mark found himself reluctant to let go of. 

"Mark - Mark?"

His shoulder was grasped. 

"Mark!" 

"Wha- what is it?" 

Turning his head, he saw the brunette watching him with apparent concern. 

"Are you sure that you are ok? Your mind is off in another world right now." 

He sighed. 

"I'm probably fine. It's just that there are a few things still bothering me. 

Carol took his shoulder and pulled him close. 

"Tell me then. There's not much else I can do for you right now, so at least you can lean some of your troubles on me." 

Mark hesitated for a moment, but after thinking about it, there wasn't much of a reason not to talk. He could only hope that it would work. 

He bit his lip in slight anxiety. 

"I don't know if I can continue what I'm doing. I... I have been trying my hardest to avoid being sent off to war. Yet, I still find myself heading off to a fight. Why have I been put into this situation, where will I go from here?" 

The boss had raised him high as some grand figure for the Hounds, but even he wasn't willing to join the fight, let alone lead its charge. 

Maybe he could run, but what then? If his gang loses, then there wouldn't be anywhere left to go, if his gang wins, then he would probably become the object of scorn, eventually being kicked out and left to rot. 

Fighting... he also wanted to avoid that. It was better to not gamble his life if possible. But what choice did he have at this point? His existence seemed to lose its value as time passed, being bathed in the flames of risk at a climbing rate. The time would come when he would be fighting for death over a scrap of bread or something of the like. 

Death lingered in his steps. 

"If only I could return to the past. Everything was better then. No war, no fear of going broke, no getting dragged into gang wars. Though, it would probably be the opposite for you." 

The brunette took his head and kissed him. 

"Don't be looking at the future so drearily. It's almost like you're condemning a terrible fate to yourself. Try to have slightly more optimism, even if you have to force it." 

She then grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. Her ambition seemed to seep into him. 

"You need hope. And yes, I know your whole life has been shit, that nearly nothing is worth the struggle that you go through every day. But look at me. Look at me and remember that there are still people waiting for you - that I am waiting for the time we can finally be together, in a better world that is a hellscape no more." 

Mark looked at her, speechlessly. 

Eventually, his lips curved into a crooked, then straight smile. 

"Thank you." 

...

Two days later, the sky was no longer visible. Instead, a thick, gray fog had permeated the border of smog and settled don't the city. Nearly everything had been carpeted in the frigid embrace of the sky. 

Mark reentered the warehouse of the Hounds. 

He had been sleeping there for the past days, as his own house had become too unreliable to remain at with Anton pursuing him.

Footsteps approached him from the side. Turning his head, he saw Billy sternly walking in his direction. 

"You're not challenging me to another fight, right? The big brawl is today, it's better to save your energy." 

The attendant shook his head.

"Boss wants us. Something urgent." 

Billy turned around without another word. 

With a sigh, Mark followed. 

'Why is he acting like I wronged him?" 

Deeper inside, Dean's inner circle was standing while the boss himself sat in his chair, tapping his fingers against his arm. His face was contorted in thought. 

Raising his head, the boss looked at each person present with a profound sterness. 

"We will still fight today."

He let out a troubled sigh. 

"But... our previous plans are now scrapped."