ULTIMATE FART MACHINE 

Four words echoed through his mind..

... I'm not your father....

Just four words yet he had been struck by more than four emotions.

Lysander had been a street rat or better put, a thief, for most of his days and not like he had been proud of it. His poor mother had died when he was ten and she had no knowledge of where his father was.

According to her, he had just disappeared one day, without taking anything of his. Little did she know he had left her with a pregnancy. Well, the story of his father from his mother's kips was not his primary concern now.

When he had seen that ghost at first, lying helplessly on the floor with that heavy boot pressing against his face, all he felt was anxiousness but then, the same ghost had come to him and mentioned being a mentor.

Since it was not someone he had killed, Lysander thought for just a moment that this might have been his long lost dad.

While his mouth yapped, his mind was racing as well with different thoughts.

'He's got to be my father. I meant, he just confirmed I didn't kill him. Right?'

'Who's to say brown and blue does not give birth to purple? Hell, I wish I had a pack of paints to experiment with this theory!'

'Mentor? That's got to be another way of saying father. Maybe he's feeling guilty and needs a little encouragement to open up.'

These were the thoughts in his head, racing even faster than the words from his mouth.

That was when the man thundered that response and in that flash of emotions, Lysander spotted something. There was a moment of weakness which worked its wonders with a big reveal. He noticed that even though he tried to hide it, Eryndor's face contorted into something that he recognised immediately.

That was pain. And there was something else, something he had seen in the eyes of several persons throughout his time running around and doing his own work.

That's it! It suddenly struck him. 

The way the ghost man's shoulders hung, his quavering eyes and the fact he could not even look at Lysander made him think straight to realise what this man was showing was guilt.

But why guilt? He looked like a ghost that must have attained something great in his life and his name, Eryndor, that seemed like something that the sages would enjoy telling great stories about.

Not like Lysander was into the sages and their stories. He never cared to listen. Instead, he would rob them of the gifts and coins the listeners dropped in their little boxes.

The anger he heard in Eryndor's tone did not seem channeled to him at all but it was definitely related to him and his being. This was like a flower inhabited by a fairy whose petals had folded up. He was going to have to pry it even more carefully.

He turned away as Eryndor had asked but then the man claimed something was his fault and when he asked, hearing no answers, Lysander turned around.

Eryndor, who looked distraught, saw him turn and brought a frown upon his face.

"I said don't peek." He said in a rather hoarse and harsh tone.

"I know. But what is my fault?" Lysander asked him.

"It's nothing." Eryndor said and quickly clicked back on the screen, preventing Lysander from reading what he had been looking at.

The system had returned back to the home screen and Lysander himself was still curious.

"You're not going to tell me what it was you saw?" He asked Eryndor now.

"It's nothing." Eryndor responded.

"Alright, then is there a plan?" He asked Eryndor. "What is this new task because I know you looked?"

"Well, we have to get out of here which as you can see is impossible since we're both stuck locked in here." Eryndor responded.

"Do you think it's possible that they can see you now?" Lysander asked him.

"I don't know. Listen, I'm new to all this and I don't know how it functions but what I do know is that I have to get you out of here." Eryndor said to him.

"No. I'm not leaving here." Lysander responded.

Eryndor seemed puzzled. He had just offered this douche of a being a way out and he was declining it. There had to be an angle.

"And why is that? Do you enjoy getting tortured? Is that what gets you off?" Eryndor demanded.

"No. The old man, that's why." Lysander responded.

"The one that was being beaten up then? He's pretty much dead. Why stay for him?" Eryndor demanded.

"He's not dead. And until I confirm it myself, I want to believe he's alive. Okay?" Lysander responded. There was a muscle twitching at his jawline and it seemed like his eyes were trying to protest something too.

Eryndor felt something too. Pity.

He approached Lysander and stood a few inches away from him.

"Who is he to you? Family?" He asked.

"I promised Saka I'll bring him home and that I will. If he's dead, I'll carry his body out of here and go take punishment from his family." Lysander said.

"And why would you do that?" Eryndor demanded.

"Because he's here because of me. He was protecting me and they took him. That's why I need to save him too." Lysander responded and walked away to the walls of the cell.

Slowly, he slid down until he was sitting on the cold floor. He bent his legs at the knees and drew them up to his chest as he circled with his arms while his chin rested on his knee cap. He started rocking back and forth as a tear slid down his cheeks.

The man had emotions! Strong ones that he was not afraid to let out and this used to be something during his lifetime that Eryndor would find a weakness.

But seeing Lysander this way, he did not see a weak man. Not with his already stated stance. He did not see that coward who ran in the market because he had seen a ghost. He also did not see the thief that had turned himself in.

What he saw was a young man with a brave heart. A man who was willing to die so long as he was doing what he felt was right.

Yes, so many times strength has been attributed to the use of brute force. The display of strength in battle and victory over one's enemies.

Well, Eryndor's eyes widened as he realised another kind of strength. The strength of character.

He walked over to Lysander and he too sat his ghostly ass down as he stared ahead at the rungs of the cell.

"Well, do you know where he is being held at least?" Eryndor asked him.

Lysander raised his head, a gasp escaping his mouth as he looked at Eryndor.

"You're going to help me?" He asked.

"It's not something that I want to do but I mean, if I wanted to take your ass out of this place, you already made it clear that I have to help you get your friend too. So, do you know where he's being held?" Eryndor asked him.

"No." Lysander said.

"Well, when you were brought in here, what did you see? Where was he brought from?" Eryndor asked him.

"They didn't need to bring him out of anywhere." Lysander responded.

"Why not?" Eryndor asked him.

"Because he was already out. I was led to the back and I met him already rolled in the mat. More like they had been waiting for me already. So, I was beaten down and that asshole stepped on my face. That is all." Lysander responded, he looked away at the last parts clearly to hide the look of shame on his face.

"How sure are you that it was the old man?" Eryndor asked him.

"He spoke. So don't worry about that part. That was him alright and we need to know where he is." Lysander responded.

Just then, they heard a door opening.

"They're coming. Act natural." Eryndor said to him.

Instantly, Lysander started singing an old tune. This was really confusing to Eryndor.

"I said act naturally, not make noise." Eryndor said.

"This is how I always act." Lysander said and continued singing.

This time, a flame bearer walked over and stopped in front of his cell. Three guards came and there was one with the keys from earlier. He started opening the door.

"Shut up, fool!" One yelled at him.

Instead, Lysander raised his pitch higher than ever as he sang. Eryndor noticed the men could still not see him and that seemed like a relief.

He was still hoping that he would figure out why he solidified when he was close to Lysander.

The guards entered, Lysander kept singing which prompted one to punch him really hard on the guts.

Lysander felt air escape from him and the intense pain. Yet, he had a surprise coming.

He suddenly tilted his butt from where he laid in pain and released his bowels.

Out came the most disgusting smell ever.

Yes. He had just farted and the smell was so bad Eryndor himself perceived it.

"You know what, try not to get killed. I'll go find out where your old man is being held." Eryndor said to him.

Lysander nodded.

"You disgusting creature. How dare you?" One of the guards demanded and kicked him really hard.

Lysander nearly folded into a ball but then he straightened up 

"I'm sorry. It must have been the buns and bean cake I had the other day. Uh-oh...." He said as he sat up, his eyes widened.

"Uh-oh what?" The other guard asked.

"I think another one is coming." He said as he released another round from his now ultimate fart machine - his butt.

This time, it was accompanied with a loud sound almost like it was a protest.

And then came the smell.

"You're dead." A guard said, his teeth showing as he smacked his balled up fist against his free palm.