Chapter 20

The stench of decay and desperation hung heavy in the air, a suffocating blanket that clung to my skin. The abandoned sectors were a wasteland, a stark contrast to the sterile efficiency of my fortress. Here, survival was a brutal, relentless struggle. Famine gnawed at the bones of the residents, turning them into gaunt shadows, their eyes hollow with hunger and fear. The air vibrated with a primal tension, a sense of constant, lurking danger.

I moved through the dilapidated streets, my senses on high alert, every shadow a potential threat. The rumors were true: the residents were vicious, driven to extremes by their desperate circumstances. They were wary, distrustful, their eyes filled with a feral intensity.

Then, I heard the screams. A family, huddled together, their faces etched with terror, were being dragged away by a group of hulking figures. Hunters. Hybrids, their eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger, their voices a guttural mix of growls and taunts.

I didn't hesitate. I moved like a phantom, my blade flashing in the dim light. The hybrids, caught off guard by my sudden attack, fell one by one, their cries of surprise turning into gurgling gasps. The family, their eyes wide with disbelief, watched as I dispatched their captors.

"Go," I said, my voice low and urgent. "Find shelter. Stay hidden."

They didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled away, disappearing into the labyrinthine alleys, their footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. I watched them go, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness. But I knew this was just a small victory. The horrors of this place were far from over.

The alleyway reeked of stale blood and desperation. A hulking figure, more beast than man, stood guard at its entrance, a makeshift barricade of scrap metal and debris piled behind her. Her eyes, bloodshot and filled with a weary defiance, scanned the shadows, searching for any sign of movement. This was Brick, a protector of the downtrodden, a shield against the horrors that lurked in the abandoned sectors.

She noticed me, her hand instinctively reaching for the crude weapon strapped to her back – a length of pipe, its end sharpened to a vicious point. "Who goes there?" she growled, her voice rough, a low rumble that echoed in the narrow passage.

I raised my hands in a gesture of peace, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"I mean no harm," I said, my voice calm, steady. "I'm just passing through."

She narrowed her eyes, suspicion etched deep in her weathered face.

"Passing through? No one just 'passes through' these parts. You got a death wish, or you one of them Hunters?"

"Neither," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "I'm looking for someone."

"Looking for someone?" She scoffed, a humorless bark. "You and everyone else in this damned wasteland. What makes you think I'd help you?"

"I'm not asking for your help," I said, meeting her gaze. "But I'm not your enemy. I just helped a family escape a group of Hunters. Maybe we have a common goal."

She studied me for a long moment, her eyes searching for any hint of deception. Finally, she grunted, a sound that could have been agreement.

"Hunters are scum," she said, spitting on the ground. "Preying on the weak. Someone's gotta stop 'em."

"Then maybe we can help each other," I said, taking a step closer. "I have resources, information. You have knowledge of these sectors, the people who live here."

She remained wary, but the tension in her shoulders had eased slightly. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Su Yan," I replied. "What's yours?"

"They call me Brick," she said, her voice gruff. "And I don't trust easy. But… maybe you ain't so bad." She gestured down the alleyway.

"Come on. There's safer places to talk than out in the open." ( Brick is a tall black beautiful woman that has the aura of amazon warrior)

"Aunt Brick! Aunt Brick!" Tomas bounced on the balls of his feet, his eyes shining with excitement. "This lady, she saved us! Me, Mama, and Sofia! From the Hunters!"

He gestured wildly in my direction, his small voice echoing in the makeshift shelter. "They were gonna take us, but she fought them! She was like… like a whirlwind!" He mimed a flurry of punches and kicks, his enthusiasm infectious.

Brick's gaze shifted from Tomas to me, a flicker of something akin to approval in her usually stern eyes. "Is this true?" she asked, her voice low and direct.

"They were cornered," I confirmed, my gaze steady. "I intervened."

Tomas nodded vigorously, his words tumbling over each other in his eagerness to tell the tale. "She was amazing, Aunt Brick! She took them down so fast! They didn't even know what hit them!"

Brick's lips twitched, a hint of a smile playing on her weathered face.

"Sounds like you found yourself a guardian angel, little man," she said, ruffling Tomas's hair. She turned back to me, her expression serious once more.

"Hunters are getting bolder. They're pushing further into the civilian sectors. It's getting harder to keep people safe."

Tomas, emboldened by the presence of his "guardian angel," tugged at my hand. "Pretty sister," he asked, his eyes wide with curiosity, "what's your name?"

His little sister, Sofia, peeked out from behind his leg, her own eyes filled with a shy wonder. She echoed his sentiment with a soft, almost inaudible, "Yeah, what's your name?"

Before I could answer, Tomas continued, his voice filled with a hopeful eagerness, "You should come to our shelter! It's not much, but it's safe. Aunt Brick made it strong!"

Sofia nodded in agreement, her gaze fixed on me. "Please?" she whispered.

Brick watched us, her expression unreadable, but there was a hint of something like approval in her eyes.

"They'd be honored to have you," she said, her voice gruff, but not unkind. "It's the least we can offer, after what you did."

The shelter was a stark contrast to the sterile, high-tech environment I was accustomed to. It was a sprawling, dilapidated apartment building, its once-grand facade now crumbling and scarred.

The air within was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, stale food, and the faint, underlying odor of fear.

Brick led me through the dimly lit corridors, the echoing footsteps a constant reminder of the fragility of life in this forgotten corner of the city. We passed cramped rooms, makeshift shelters cobbled together from scavenged materials. The faces that peered out at us were gaunt, etched with hardship.

Malnourished children, their eyes too large for their thin faces, clung to their mothers' skirts. Elderly residents, their bodies frail and stooped, watched us with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Despite the grim circumstances, there was a sense of community, a fragile thread of hope woven through the despair. People shared what little they had, offering each other comfort and support. It was a testament to their resilience, their ability to find strength in the face of overwhelming adversity.

Brick led me to a small, cluttered courtyard at the back of the building.

Here, amidst the rubble and debris, a vibrant garden thrived. Makeshift planters, fashioned from old tires and discarded containers, were bursting with life. Rows of leafy greens, root vegetables, and herbs grew in neat, carefully tended plots. It was a testament to Brick's resourcefulness, a vital source of sustenance in a place where food was scarce.

"This is how we survive," Brick said, her voice gruff but laced with a hint of pride. "We grow what we can, share what we have. It ain't much, but it's enough."

The garden was a small oasis, a splash of green in a sea of gray. It was a symbol of their defiance, their refusal to surrender to the harsh realities of their existence. It was clear that Brigida's protection extended beyond physical safety, it was about nurturing and sustaining those who had very little.

A wave of unexpected emotion washed over me as I surveyed the scene. Despite the gnawing hunger, the threadbare clothing, and the ever-present threat of violence, these people possessed a resilience that was both humbling and inspiring. They shared meager meals, offered comforting words, and found moments of laughter amidst the hardship. Their smiles, though faded, held a genuine warmth, a testament to the enduring power of human connection.

I felt a pang of guilt, a sharp contrast to the sterile efficiency of my own life. Here, in this forgotten corner of the city, survival was a daily struggle, a constant battle against the odds. Yet, they persevered, finding strength in unity and hope in the face of despair.

A deep sense of responsibility settled within me. I couldn't ignore their plight. I couldn't simply walk away and leave them to their fate. These people, these resilient souls, deserved more. They deserved safety, security, and the basic necessities of life.

A resolve hardened within me. I would find a way to help them. I would find a way to relocate them, to provide them with a safe haven, a place where they could live without fear, where their children could grow strong, and where their elders could find peace. I would find a way to bring them the food they needed, to nourish their bodies and restore their strength.

The thought of returning them to my fortress, or a similar safe haven, sparked a flicker of hope. I knew it would be a monumental task, fraught with challenges. But I also knew that I couldn't, in good conscience, turn my back on them. I would use my resources, my influence, and my determination to create a better future for these people, a future where they could thrive, not just survive.