Book Three – Chapter Three – Part Three – The Mad Dog Awakens

Suddenly, Servi was assaulted by another headache, and she closed her eyes in response. But this time, it was not Itarr’s doing. From deep within their interconnected soul, a vivid red paradise decorated by the Goddess with her energy, Itarr gasped with surprise as a previously unseen cage made itself known. She willed herself over to it and examined the mysterious object.

I didn’t make this, did I? And I don’t think I can open it. But wait, can I be sure that I didn't make it? What’s inside?

The metaphysical emotion storing cages Itarr made were not similar to this foreign thing she stared at. For starters, hers were more organic looking, with vivid red spots on each of the vertices.

The one in front of her looked like something had attacked it with some type of explosive weapon. A black chain, ugly and thick, wrapped around its weathered surface as a giant black lock, dripping with crimson, locked it all up. It was odd, but she felt a deep sadness and a heavy hatred radiate from within its chained confines.

She reached out with a timid finger and touched it.  The cage was fractured enough for some unknown, colorless substance to squeeze out. Then it closed back up and disappeared from her sight. Itarr immediately tried to contain what had escaped but stopped when she felt no malice or hostility coming from it. It was odd because she had sensed hatred not even a moment ago.

Should I let it be? It doesn’t seem to have any malicious intent.

She decided to follow it, eventually coming to an area she dubbed ‘The Cage Land.’ As its name suggested, it was an area in Servi’s soul where Itarr kept every single cage, filled to the brim with emotion, and categorized them according to what she felt from them.

Why did you lead me here? Itarr asked the energy.  Her eyes darted back and forth from the substance to the cages. An ominous feeling grew in her stomach, and Itarr reached out with a red hand blessed with her divine essence.

It crackled in response and launched out hundreds of tendrils for each cage. Itarr shouted for it to stop but was pushed back when another explosion rang out.

NOOOO. Itarr yelled and feared the worst as she braced herself. When nothing happened, she timidly opened her eyes. Every single cage, to her surprise, was still there. The only difference was a slight crack in each of them that allowed the emotion within to seep out. But it wasn’t like a flood or a tsunami. It was more of a light drip, measured to perfection with the same care a baker would use when trying to bake a cake.

The colorless substance used its tendrils to gently flood their vast soul with a cacophony of emotions and colors.

Itarr was startled and afraid. Should she interfere? What if the unknown energy regarded her as an enemy? But what if it was something more personal?

What if that mysterious cage contained her memories? If that’s the case, then her memories, or some of them, are filling her soul up in accordance with how she used to be? Can that happen? But it’s filling her up with emotion, not memories. Why? Are memories and emotions interchangeable in the grand scheme of things?  What if Servi's memories contain a blueprint for a certain kind of emotional composition, and that is what’s happening? If I’m right, then after this is done, the emotions that’ll flow through her body will be the same as when she had her memories, but without her actual memories. That’s a long stretch, though.

But that’s only assuming that substance is her memories. And if it is, it brings me to a different question. If it is her memories, then why is it so small? And why did it happen now, at this very moment in time? Why go about it this way instead of giving Servi her memories back? There has to be more, but I don’t understand.

As Itarr questioned the events happening right in front of her, the mysterious energy retracted its tendrils and wandered away.  Following it, Itarr was led back to the foreign intruder's home, which had reappeared as suddenly as it disappeared. The substance stopped the moment it reached the cage and turned around, facing Itarr. Though it had no humanoid-like form like Itarr, she swore the energy looked depressed.

I promise you. I will correct my mistakes.

The colorless substance lightly twitched in response before squeezing back inside the cage, which disappeared, leaving Itarr all alone in a vivid spacious red void. With nothing but her thoughts to occupy her, she tried to brainstorm a way to fix her problems.

Servi opened her eyes. Looking down at her hands, she made a fist and shook her head.

Servi? Can you hear me?

Servi didn’t say anything and looked back over the letter.

Absorbing it, she calmly walked out of room 205 and walked in front of the door to room 206. But she didn’t bother to knock and wait for a response. Instead, she chose to store it inside her ring and walk in as if she owned the place. Servi kicked the nearby counter, and the noise alerted the two people in the room to her presence.

They were mid-coitus, with the woman with red hair straddling a middle-aged man on the bent bed. They instantly turned their sweaty, passion-filled faces to this unknown intruder and went to scream, but no sound escaped their open mouths.

Without uttering a noise, Servi picked the two of them up with Telekinesis and slung them out the window. They crashed hard into the dirty, diseased-filled street below. The woman got up instantly, albeit with glass shards in her chest and arms, and cried out. Blood gurgled down from the man’s mouth as the woman tried her best to lift him up. But it was to no avail. The glass shards he landed on punctured through his back and pierced his lungs. In a panic-filled moment, the red-headed woman ran away to find help and a doctor but turned back when she heard him groan. She rushed back over and crouched down, helping him up. Though he had blood running down his back, the wounds themselves began to close up. When the woman looked down, she saw that the glass shards in her body were plucking themselves out one by one by an invisible force.

Servi, why did you do that?! There was no need to kill them—wait, no souls? Did you heal them? Servi, are you still in there?!! Itarr tried to talk, but it was like Servi couldn’t hear her.

Servi absorbed her clothes, used Earth Wall to make a new door and window, and finally got to work on brainstorming a plan.

“The Mafia has Momo,” she said out loud. “What’re my options? I could destroy the town, but Momo might die in the process. I have no idea if she’s above ground or underground. If she’s under, then the rubble could trap her. I could absorb the debris, but with how big this town is, it’ll take a while, and I might not find her.

“I could go house by house and search. I don’t need to sleep, so that could work. If I do a raid a minute, I could do around 10,000 in a week. The problem is that if the Mafia catches wind, they might catch on and kill Momo then and there. They don’t think I have the power to take on their little group, so I could catch them by surprise. Shit! Wait, if I can find one of their high-ranking members, I could torture the info out of him. But if I assume the letter is from the Boss, then there’s no way anyone less than his right-hand man would be sent to deliver it. At least, I wouldn’t send some disposable fuck off to do an important job.

“Undercover? Yes, that’s the best option. If I make myself pathetic looking enough, I should be able to catch the attention of someone who’s connected to the Mafia. But can I do it in a week? I have to. But if I can just get inside their base and catch a glimpse of someone high up on the totem pole, I could extract the info from them. They might even know where the Boss is at. Yeah, that’s the plan. But first, I gotta disguise myself. There’s a chance they know what I look like.”

Servi? Why are you talking like that? Please, speak to me!!

Servi didn’t respond. Instead, she chose to take out a mask that would change her eye color. Using Telekinesis to float it in front of her, Servi stared into a mirror she retrieved from her ring.

Using her index finger and thumb, Servi plucked out her left eyeball with no hesitation.

“Itarr, do not regenerate my eye,” she ordered as she saw her red eye grow back. It was as if time was rewinding for her and her alone.

But… Itarr went to argue but stopped cold when Servi spoke in a demanding and harsh tone.

“Why aren’t you talking? Doesn’t matter in the long run, just don’t regenerate my eye or any damage I do to myself or my hair. Only heal me when I say so.”

Servi plucked out her eye again and waited. Nothing. Her empty socket was reduced to a black void that continuously leaked blood. The floor below became soiled, but the room's cleanliness was the furthest thing from her mind.

I’ll do it, but only because I love you. Can you say it back? I—

“Perfect,” Servi replied. Her face twisted into a devilish smile. Next, she took a dagger and carved out the area around her other eye until she saw the red flesh beneath. Picking up the mask that changed her eye color, Servi carved out the glass until it was the perfect shape to fit the area she had just excavated from her face.

Placing it in the fleshy, bloody slot like one would a puzzle piece, she held it in place as she gave another order. “Heal it. I want the glass to be motionless, so lock it down when you regenerate my flesh."

Servi watched as her pristine, white skin grew and replaced the red, raw muscle until the glass couldn't be seen anymore. She was no longer the girl with red eyes. Instead, her left eye, utterly destroyed, left a black void-like hole, while her right, a pretty blue, stared at her. She tapped a finger on it, and her sight went foggy for a moment, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

Please answer me! Why hurt yourself like this?! Itarr pleaded, but Servi ignored her.

Pulling out another dagger, Servi painfully scalped herself until her skull showed. In some cases, she pressed a bit too hard and punctured the bone. With a stone-cold gaze, Servi calmly watched as her pink brain matter flowed down her forehead.  All-around and covering her feet were the remains of black hair clumped together with the waterfall of blood, and they clumped together to form a monstrous, bloody hairball.

Unaware of Itarr’s sobs, Servi commanded the Goddess to do one more thing. “Repair my head, but leave me bald. I have no need for hair right now.”

Itarr had no choice but to obey because, in a way, this was her punishment. She wanted to help Servi so much, to the point where she was locking up her very emotions because of the tremendous love she had for her. But that love had backfired and spiraled out of control.

In short, the very last thing Itarr ever wanted was happening in front of her. Servi was ignoring her, forcing Itarr to watch as she purposely maimed herself. She was afraid that if she went against Servi’s orders, Servi would say those three little words that would most certainly destroy her.

“Good,” Servi kept a stoic smile, and she looked nothing like her former self. “But it’s not enough. I... I need to..."  she cupped her hands around her chest and debated on cutting them off. After all, they knew that she was a girl, but if she had no breasts and acted in a boyish manner...

No!! Not that!! Please, you’ve done enough!!!! Itarr cried out when a small carving knife appeared in front of Servi's hand.

Grabbing it, she started to pierce her breasts, touching and carving lumps of fat in the process but stopped. Only a little bit of blood drooled down her toned stomach before joining the river of blood that threatened to flood the room. “Too far. Don’t need to do that,” she said to Itarr’s relief as Servi’s chest healed right up.

Sitting down on the bed, Servi projected her subconscious into her ring and found herself surrounded by categories.

See? I’ve been storing and sorting everything in the categories like you asked. I love you, Servi. You love me, right? Please say you do! I need to hear it!!

Itarr’s worried voice fell on deaf ears as a minute later, Servi covered her body in a brand new disguise. Two shiny daggers sat on her hip while a long black coat covered her entire body. Under it, she wore a simple brown tunic, brown pants, and black boots. She flipped the hood of her cloak down to reveal her damaged face. The one black eye stared at nothing, unable to take in light, and Servi was left with only half of her vision.

“The disguise is done. I need to leave, but how? They probably have people watching the inn to make sure I receive the letter. Is there a smokescreen skill?” Pulling out her ID, Servi scanned the list of skills and realized she had already learned it. It was simply called Smokescreen, belonging to the Fire Element, and it required the user to be Rank 7.

Tossing the ID away, Servi took a deep breath and reassured herself.

“Momo, I will save you. I will. I must. I need to. I need to get going.”

Three minutes later, a thick blanket of grey smoke covered the entirety of The Berrycanta Inn and threatened to fill the entire area around. The inn's inhabitants stampeded down the stairs to the lobby, crowding it to where no one could move. With the smoke spiraling out of control, the collective rage increased until fights started to break out. In the end, people did escape from the faux burning building, but not without black eyes and broken bones. The elderly owner, however, didn’t make it out alive. The sheer fright from the smoke was too much excitement for the owner's aging heart, and she passed on to the next life amid the chaos.

Twenty minutes later, a certain woman found herself walking around the city.

“I need info. A bar would be the best place,” Servi spoke to herself. Her gnarly left eye socket grossed more than a few passersby who gave a wide berth to avoid catching whatever disease they thought she had. Of course, Servi didn’t care enough about that to make a scene. As far as she was concerned, they didn’t matter to her. Their lives were as insignificant as an ant or a fly.

Just as she rounded a corner, a particular sight caught her eye. About five meters away from her, huddled next to the rotten door of a rundown house, two men stood side by side. Both were shirtless, with thin stripes of blackened cloth covering their waist. But to Servi, clothes didn’t matter. Information did.

“There’s a man down at Cornets that knows a brothel that sells Pink Monotonia for cheap. I’m talking about real cheap. And you get a girl, too,” the man on the left said. A black patch covered his left eye.

“Yeah? How much?” replied the man on the right.  He had no distinguishable or noticeable features about him.  He would fit right in with all the other homeless Servi had encountered since she entered the city.

“20 for a quarter pink.”

“For real? Then I’m about to head out.”

“Hold up,” Eyepatch said. “He doesn’t just tell anyone. I don’t even know if he’s going to be there.”

“And?” his friend replied.

“You can’t just go in there demanding to know where this place is. You gotta go with the flow and vibe with the atmosphere until that guy says the name of it.”

“That’s stupid. But whatever, I’ll see you later," Eyepatch's friend said. He walked down the road while Eyepatch went inside.

“Guess I’m in luck.  I don't have to torture anyone yet," Servi sighed.  She rubbed her hand over her bare scalp and followed the man to the bar.

Servi… Please, talk to me!!! Just let me know that you can hear me!!!!! Please!!!!

Nothing. Not even a simple nod.

Itarr wailed and wept. The room filled with her cries, but no one could hear her.

A couple of minutes later, Servi walked through the crooked double doors of a place known as Cornets. Immediately, the smell of smoke and cheap liquor invaded her nostrils before disappearing, thanks to True Immortality. The dirty wooden floors had sharp nails sticking out in some places, and the sickening green wallpaper was peeling harshly in some areas, showing the rotten walls underneath.

Ignoring all that, Servi made her way over to the bar and sat down on a grey stool. Even with as light as she was, it threatened to crumble underneath Servi's weight.

“Good Gods above, what the hell happened to you?” asked the man who sat beside her. His red shirt, ripped in half and showing his numerous scars and heavy stomach, gave him an aura of false intimidation. Servi turned to him, blinking only with her missing eye. “You really need to cover that thing up. I’m gonna lose my damn drink,” he pointed with a greasy finger to a black void and turned his face back to his glass of whisky.

Servi ignored him and took out a five dupla coin from nothing. Once she flashed it up, the greasy bartender with patches of black hair and a dirty, stained suit walked over.

“Aviation. Now,” Servi demanded, flipping the coin twice before holding it out.

The bartender nodded and took her dupla. Out of the corner of her eye, Servi saw that the man she followed here was making himself at home. With his feet propped up on a table, he flashed a white pill.

“Hey, I got this pill right here for anyone who tells me the name of that whorehouse,” he said, ignoring the advice of his friend. After getting no response, he slapped the table and asked again in a louder voice that drowned out all the other conversations.

The man with the ripped red shirt beside Servi slammed his hands down, stood up, and walked over.  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a dagger. Even though the blade was in plain sight, not a single person batted an eye.

“Here. Your drink,” the bartender sat down a lavender-colored drink. Servi took it, downed it, and asked for another. The bartender sighed and went to retrieve the glass when he heard yelling.

Servi turned to the disturbance's source and discovered the man in the red shirt had the man she followed in a headlock. And no one seemed to be surprised.

“Come on, Sam, I—” yelped the head-locked man.

Sam, the man with the red shirt, sighed. “You don’t need to be in here causing any kind of fucking trouble like you own this place.”

Still, it wasn’t Servi’s fault, and she downed the second aviation when it was brought to her. As she went to order a third, she saw a man with a hunched-back approach Sam and the other man.

“Stop with this tomfoolery. If the boy’s that eager, then just tell him. Sonny, it’s called the Boxcar. Head there and ask for Desire.”

“Goddamnit, Petch, you know we ain’t supposed to tell people who don’t deserve to know. You know what the Mafia would do to us?!” Sam dropped Sonny and drew his dagger on the hunched-back man named Petch. “You know what they did to Clank, right? And you know they were behind Arke's suicide.”

“I do, and I won't ever forget. Sam, face it. This town is nothing more than their playground. Why would I ever want to live in a shit hole like this? Use your head, man. Why would they give us such backwards rules like only tell those who deserve to know? It’s because they use that as an excuse to come and torture our sorry asses. The quicker I die, the quicker I can escape from this hellhole.”

“You ain’t bringing me down with you! I still want to live!” Sam brandished the dagger at Petch.

“If you’re going to use it, then fucking use it. End my goddamn life!”

Sonny, finally catching his breath, took this moment to skedaddle out through the double doors.

Boxcar? Desire? I don’t understand. Do you, Servi?

Not responding yet once again, Servi plopped down another five dupla and walked out. She made sure to walk directly in-between Sam and Petch, to their annoyance, and left as they threw curses at her. Servi looked around, using the moonlight as her only source of light and found Sonny vomiting nearby. Keeping her distance behind a wall, she used Remedium on him.  The moon burned through its light every minute, and Servi had no time to waste for Sonny to get well enough to travel without any outside help.

“Wha—” he looked up and saw nothing. “Shit, Sam had to go and spook the hell outta me. I swear to the Gods Above, I'm gonna kill that jerkwad. But the Boxcar, eh?”

Sonny walked away, heading north to a half-deserted part of town. Unlike the marketplace Servi went to earlier, this area was even more rundown when compared to the entrance. A rotten smell permeated through the atmosphere, but she didn't see anyone that cared. They all shuffled along, like zombies going about with the sole goal of surviving another day. The children she saw were alone and by themselves, with parents or guardians nowhere to be found.  It seemed everyone kept to themselves for the most part while trying to survive.  Having another mouth to feed meant that they needed more food, and from what Servi saw, having more food probably meant being a bigger target.

Unlike the pseudo town square that held the RASP building, this section of the city seemed to have nothing of that nature; no shops, no stores, nothing. Rundown buildings, awful smells, and public indecency were all this shitty place had to offer.

In one case, she saw an elderly man submitting to his carnal desires as he humped a girl who couldn’t have been older than fourteen. But she didn’t cry out in pain, regret, or agony. Instead, she reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a pink pill, swallowing it then and there. Moaning even louder, she motioned to a few men nearby. Dropping their trousers to reveal their erect members, they joined in and quickly monopolized the girl’s mouth and hands.

Servi, meanwhile, kept walking and followed Sonny. The people she saw, the actions they did, their precious lives, none of that had any meaning or purpose to her.

Servi...