It was rather unfortunate that there were no electrical devices anywhere in Massenia, because now, Keppa and his buddy Butters were in their home.
At their caravan near a polluted oasis, Elyas and Keppa leaned over Elyas's father as he powered on their PC.
'No shame. Absolutely no shame! Inviting himself into other people's homes like this.'
Keppa suddenly smacked Elyas on the back of the head, disrupting his disdainful leer.
"Watch your thoughts, kid."
Elyas reeled back indignantly.
"What did I do?"
"Do you even realise what face you were making while staring at me?"
"Ah."
His father clicked the mouse a few times, and a letter finally popped up on the screen. He leaned back in his swivel chair and spread his arms as if to say, 'See, I was telling the truth.'
"There you go, chief. Feast your eyes."
Keppa leaned forward, squinting at the screen sceptically.
"Hm... Well, I'll be damned."
Elyas tried catching a glimpse too, but with Keppa's big, annoying, bulky head...
'Gosh, what a boar.'
"Wait, is it real?!" Elyas probed.
"What? You thought I was lying?" His father said, pretending to be hurt, with a hand dramatically clutching his chest.
"Yes."
His father smothered a chuckle and turned back to the screen.
"So, chief, are you happy?"
Keppa remained silent for a little longer, then pulled back concedingly and huffed.
"Eh, yeah sure. Congratulations on surviving your nineteenth execution. I'll have an Iced coffee and leave in the evening, it's too hot right now."
Elyas and his father frowned, stared at each other, then at Keppa, then at each other, then at Keppa once more.
"You... you like Iced coffee?" Elyas's father asked with a bit of shock.
Elyas tilted his head, squinting. "I thought you were one of those guys who think it's unbecoming of a man to-"
But before Elyas could finish, Keppa raised a finger warningly, and chopped the air with, "Don't... Don't tell my men!"
"Who... you mean Butters?" Elyas asked. "That guy drinks it all the time."
"And why did you say it like you have more than one man?" His father added.
Keppa gritted his teeth, stuttered to say something, but then strode away to the living section of the caravan, and slumped on their couch, acting as if he was no longer in sight.
"Hey, Mister Keppa, everything is uh... ahm 'borrowed' by the way, so are you really okay with borrowed coffee beans?" Elyas asked.
There was no response.
Elyas turned to his father and muttered, "Is he really pretending not to hear me?"
His father shrugged.
"I think so. Anyway, go wash up, I'll have to give you some blood."
Elyas raised an eyebrow.
"Blood?"
"Yes, yes, blood. It's how you get the, what did you call it, 'Schizophrenic system',"
"Oh. You have to inject me with blood for that?"
"Yes. My blood, to be precise, but don't worry, you'll have your own thing."
That seemed to satisfy Elyas.
***
Standing in front of the cracked mirror of their shower, Elyas rubbed his hair and pondered his unfortunate state.
He and his father had been living off of scavenging and looting from rogue groups for the past few years, but with the recent decline in the 'Anarchist Desert' population, fewer rogue groups have been lingering about.
With no more tribesmen to raid, their presence was no longer needed.
And it was all thanks to the Goddamn...
'Southern Kingdoms Union... ugh. It really is getting bad out here, huh?'
He could see his ribs now.
Elyas wasn't particularly tall, nor was he short. He had slightly bronze skin, akin to his father's, and bronze-streaked black hair that fell to his nose and clung to his face.
He had grey, wide eyes with thick eyelashes and brows, and a soft yet firm jaw that framed his face beautifully.
It was truly quite regretful that he would've had a fine, delicate face, if not for his pale, emaciated complexion.
"So, Dad, how long do we have before I have to go to Rosendale?"
He left their small bathroom dressed in his usual ragged oversized shirt that allowed for nice ventilation, and billowy beige trousers that were beyond comfortable here in the desert.
His father was busy typing something on the PC, barely paying him any attention.
"Uh, actually, we should start driving to the airstrip now. A buddy of mine is gonna fly you to the airport and you'll go from there."
Elyas paused mid-stride and frowned, his eyes fixed questioningly on his father.
"You're not coming?"
His father scoffed.
"What? You thought I was? Goodness boy, what did you think this was, a family holiday? No!"
Elyas went silent, staring at his feet with faltering, blank eyes.
'Ah, I see.'
"Oh, come on, Son. You're finally leaving the desert, aren't you?! Now get over here." His father tapped a blood-filled syringe on his weathered, dusty desk, "Blood is waiting."
Blood was waiting.
His father was right, he had been incessantly pestering him about their... choice of habitat, but he'd never really considered detaching from... from...
'...My other half, Goddammit!'
After faltering for a few seconds too long, his father paused his work, swivelled to him and exhaled.
"Come on Elyas, you're sixteen now. This life is not sustainable, you know that. I mean, look at you! You hide under that shirt, but I can see your Goddamn ribs! How do you think I feel as your father when I see my son..." His father lowered his head, a forlorn expression seeping onto his face.
"Yes, but... but"
But what?
He had always resented his father for the life he had. For not being able to pursue asylum in the Southern Union or the North.
But his father also always claimed that there were good reasons for it all.
"There are no buts. Now come over here, you lanky-looking leprechaun, I'm offering you your future here!"
"Just take it, or the ropes will strangle your necks again," Keppa yelled from the couch while reading a newspaper.
Elyas and his father jolted at his sudden assertion.
"Goodness, I forgot you were here," Elyas mumbled.
"Oh yeah, well, the sun really is wicked.
Elyas exhaled, turned to his father, and finally sat beside him reluctantly.
"Could you at least-"
His father shook his head, not letting him finish.
"It was all for this. Thank you, son. You're gonna make me proud."
His father smiled at him, took a deep breath, pointed the blood-filled syringe to the ceiling and grinned.
"Your mother would really have wanted to be here for this."
Ilyas laid his arm on the desk, his veins already bulging unnervingly beneath his skin from his deteriorating health.
"Here we go."
The needle went in.
Elyas winced.
His father pressed, and unusually viscous, crimson blood rushed into his system with an unsettling feeling.
Then... there was nothing.
Elyas didn't feel-
"GAH!" He cried.
It was sudden!
Oh, and it was excruciating!
He gripped his arm with desperate strength, nails biting into his skin, and flopped to the floor, hunching over like a fetus, and whimpering from the pulsating, spasmic pain in his arm.
"GAHH! WHA-"
He couldn't form a word!
And it was hot.
Unimaginably hot. It seethed and pinched under his skin, spreading throughout his body as if he'd been injected with lava.
The pain wasn't receding, nor was it stopping.
Why was it not stopping?!
It continued for a few seconds too long with Elyas convulsing on the floor, unaware of anything around him until...
Until it dulled as fast as it came, and he was suddenly light.
The feeling of relief was so intense that it felt euphoric.
He blinked a few times, trying to regain himself, until he saw two faces twisted in worry leaning over him, mumbling something unintelligible.
No, it was intelligible, it was just that Elyas wasn't quite there yet.
He blinked a few more times until something else appeared.
Something alien and mind-boggling.
Something that made Elyas's eyes widen in disbelief.
'Is that...'
< ... Assessing Mutant ... >
'Oh dear, it's happening...'
Name: [ Elyas ]
Coherency: [ ... ]
Coherency Level: [ ... ]
Anchors: [ ... ]
Blood Potency: [ ... ]