A looming shadow swallowed the sun.
Szeth didn't bother looking up, taking step after step towards no particular direction. His feet felt cold against the wet pavement, the ache of walking barefoot long since transformed into a dull pain.
It was raining. A light drizzle had turned into a terrible downpour, drowning all sound and killing the little light that snuck into the tangled alleys from far above ground, where the wealthy lived. The echoes of his feet against the shallow pools of water died as soon as they were born.
The rain had soaked him to the bone, but Szeth didn't particularly mind. Of all the things to complain about, this one was pretty far down on the list.
The Dead Moon, hanging far above the sky, was reflected on a pool in front of him: a blotch of pure darkness covering the sun. He stepped hard on it, imagining how it would feel to smash the cursed rock to bits.
To destroy the source of his misery, so not even dust remained.
The water rippled, but nothing more. With a sigh, Szeth chided himself for his childishness and kept on walking, trying hard not to think much about anything at all.
His stomach rumbled a complaint. He hadn't eaten anything since yesterday.
With this rain, I doubt that'll change today.
He didn't fancy eating soaked leftovers. And since nobody on their right mind would come out with this weather, stealing food was a no go. He had no choice but to bear the hunger and wait for another day. I wouldn't be the first time he fasted for more than a day.
The life of a homeless dreg wasn't easy in Paragon. Especially not one like him.
He passed by another water pool. In it, he saw reflected not the dark moon above, but his own face.
He was reminded again of his terrible luck, as if the world felt bored and wanted to distract itself by tormenting one poor homeless boy. A sullen, dirty face looked back at him, with hair so filthy the original color was hard to tell. One eye was missing from his face. From the empty socket, a big, ink-black line ran down to his cheek. Other, smaller lines sprouted from it, like a growing plant.
It had grown and withered before it had the time to bloom, but it had done the damage nonetheless. The Blight might not have claimed Szeth's live, but for all the good it had done him, it might have been better if it had finished the job.
He felt a sudden urge to kick the water, to tear his hair, to shred his face with his own nails until nothing remained of him. But what was the point? It wouldn't give him back his life. It wouldn't change the fact that he had been abandoned, that his own family had tried to kill him before he turned into a nest of ever-hungry xenos, ready to start an outbreak at any second.
It wouldn't change the looks of undiluted disgust that he always got from the people around him.
He wasn't dead, but he had nothing to live for. At this point, he could be called a walking corpse.
Another shadow passed over Szeth, distracting him from his self-loathing. A giant, floating billboard crossed the sky above him, playing an endless cycle of commercials and paid promotions.
The commercial about an all-powerful bug killer with an unnecessarily curvaceous lady (as it always was with these things) faded to black. It was shortly replaced by a square-chinned handsome man with a dazzling set of teeth. This one caught Szeth's eyes, because the man was wearing a high-tech suit and flying through clouds with his perfect smile plastered on his face.
"When all hope is lost, and fear draws near, we will be there!"
The voice in the speakers was warm like sunlight, but to Szeth, it sounded artificial and fake. Even so, he didn't take his eyes away from the promotional video.
"Be it a terrible storm, a powerful quake, or a Blight outbreak, we will come!"
The man flew down, where a horde of black-blue monsters awaited, wreaking havoc, destroying buildings and eating the very concrete off the streets. He stretched his hand forward, as if signaling the end of their evil deeds.
A beam of golden energy shot forth, like the coming of dawn. It evaporated every monster it touched, reducing them to less than cinders within moments. The shining beacon of light swept the area, purging the dull turquoise teeming in the city. Within moments, the disgusting creatures were gone. The man flew slowly to the ground, where he landed striking a heroic pose. People appeared from out of nowhere, as if they had been waiting for the chance to applaud his bravery.
"We are the guardians of Earth. We are the Watchers!"
The man pointed a finger at the screen, and winked.
"No life is beyond saving!"
No life is beyond saving.
That was the official motto of the Watchers, the superheroes chosen by the Custodes, tasked with protecting the Earth from the Blight. It was supposed to be a message of hope: that wherever one might be, they would still be in reach for them to swoop down and save the day.
To Szeth, who had been despised and rejected by every person he met, the empty words made him sick on his stomach.
"Nothing more than egoists playing hero to feed their own egos," he spat. His words were lost in the drumming of rain.
If no life was beyond saving, then what was he?
What was this wretched being, who no one dared help?
Did it mean he wasn't even truly alive?
"Man, I've gotta stop. This ain't getting me anywhere. Stupid rain, getting me all depressed."
Complaining wouldn't put food on his stomach. Though, looking at the weather that appeared to have no intentions of changing anytime soon, maybe nothing would do that for some time. The thought of spending another day curled in a corner, trying to battle his growling gut and aching body for a decent sleep, was even more depressing than the commercial.
He looked up again, his greasy hair protecting his eyes like a blessing in disguise. The Dead Moon had long since moved out of the sunlight's way, but the roiling clouds turned it into nothing more than a blur of light gray amongst a sea of darkness.
His eyes went down again, scanning the shadowed alley in search of a place to sleep. He found a comfortable-looking heap of trash just lying on a tall wall. Long since used to the smell of rot and the sound of flies, to him it was little more than a convenient cushion. The rain fell in an angle that barely missed it. Sighing with satisfaction, he crawled up to it, lying on his side.
Well, at least I'll be getting some sleep today, he thought as he closed his eyes.
The roaring downpour as a lullaby, he drifted into sleep.
—
Something grabbed him by the shoulder.
Used to sleeping in the backstreets, where anyone would strip you clean as soon as you let your guard down, Szeth immediately jumped from his improvised mattress, ready to dart away at the first sign of danger.
"Food…!"
Luckily for him, no one had tried to rob or kill him on his sleep. Instead, a senile-looking old hag was begging him with upraised arms and a desperate look on her face. "Please… food…!"
Szeth sighed, relieved. Then he spat. "Food? You think I'd have actual, edible stuff on me? Gimme a break, old witch. You eat what you can on the spot." Otherwise, it would get stolen, or you would be beaten while it was taken from you. Szeth had learned that lesson a long time ago.
"Give me food…!"
So damn persistent, he thought with annoyance. He turned his face at the hag, ready to give her a piece of his mind. "Listen here! If you want food, you get your ass moving and look for it, you- "
"AAAAAAGHHHHHH" But it appeared to be unnecessary.
His dirty bangs fell away to reveal his face, with the empty eye socket and the black marks that grew from it. The nightmarish sight seemed to shock the insane woman beyond all sense, who fell on her back as she tried to crawl away from him, muttering a single word over and over again.
"Specter… It's a specter...!"
Her face became a mask of fear, as she he had met a demon in the flesh, and she ran away from him in a frenzied dash.
Szeth watcher her back quickly shrink in the distance, too familiar with the situation to care too much about it.
"Specter, huh" he said, touching his marred face with his hand as if trying to feel the wickedness inside of him.
It was the Year 48 after the Catastrophe. Nearly half a century had passed since the Dead Moon appeared from nowhere, joining the White Moon (the Earth's only satellite at the moment) in orbit around the planet and raining down Blight upon its surface.
It gained its name because of the particularly hungry, particularly fast-growing and particularly invasive alien lifeform that had consumed all organic matter on it, turning it into a cesspool of infection. Fortunately for mankind, and the rest of life on Earth, the lack of 'food' over an extensive period of time had put the infection, Blight, on a dormant state.
Which meant it couldn't breed xenos directly to travel the distance between the planet and the satellite, turning one into a giant replica of the other.
Unfortunately, chunks of Blight were occasionally released from the surface of the Dead Moon, attracted by the Earth's gravitational pull.
Which meant a lot of alien creatures hungry for biomass and incredibly proficient in gathering it from the dead (and sometimes unfortunately still living) bodies of their victims.
Whenever Blight rained, death followed. It was like a zombie infection. Worse, since zombies couldn't grow from trash and adapt to their environment in the span of weeks.
The only reason the Earth hadn't been overwhelmed by the Blight yet were the Custodes and their Watcher System. The seemingly omnipotent entities had contacted humans shortly after the arrival of the Dead Moon, offering a trade: their help for our cooperation. And mankind, facing total annihilation, couldn't find a reason to refuse.
On the other hand, there were many reasons not to. A whole wriggling, segmented-bodied, disgusting sea of them.
Thanks to the Custodes, and more directly, the Watchers who were selected to enter a contract with them and given access to the System, there was a way to fight back the aggressive invasive species that had taken over almost 90% of the surface of the planet.
But even the help of their mysterious benefactors, mankind couldn't completely eradicate the Blight from their home. And neither could they stop the infection from raining down on their heads entirely.
And of course, not all of the falling Blight was visible to the naked eye. Millions of microscopic loads found their way down to the sweet, nutrient-filled surface of the Earth. And though most died due to their own violent metabolism before proliferating, enough of these loads could pile up on a single place to reach the critical point needed to organize and grow into little xenos, ready to turn anyone's worst nightmares to life.
In fact, over 30% of Blight outbreaks were rooted on this cause.
It was just Szeth's luck that his body had adapted to the virus on his body just before it reached the next stage and turned his face into an alien incubator.
It was also just his luck that this turned him into a ticking bomb to the eyes of other people, since there was no scientific way to prove he wouldn't eventually start another outbreak.
A person who had failed to die by Blight infection. Someone who had escaped death, but had no business being alive. A spectre: that was Szeth.
Thanks to it, he was treated little better than a real xenos. Thanks to it, he had been cast away, forced to live on the streets, despised by everyone, evoking terror or hatred with his very sight.
Szeth looked up to the sky, where the Dead Moon loomed in the distance, partially eclipsed by one of the flying billboards. The satellite was faster than its white counterpart, coming to a full rotation around the Earth every seven hours. That meant the risk of a Blight rain was present for a few moments, three times a day. It was late night now, and the rain had long since stopped. The Earth's original moon was nowhere to be seen. Only the pale, sickly turquoise glow of the Blight-ridden satellite illuminated the dark streets.
He looked around him. Not a soul in sight, which suited him just fine. His appearance tended to elicit unfavorable reactions from the people around him, ranging from uncontrollable fear to merciless beatings. If all went his way, he would find something edible in the trash tonight and lie down again before the people who usually inhabited these dark alleys started coming out again…
"You're the zombie bastard everyone's talking about?"
Or maybe not, Szeth thought, suppressing another sigh.
He turned back and came face to face with two men. They wore ragged, filthy clothes, like him. Unlike him, though, they appeared to be much better fed, as evidenced by the bulging muscles showing through their hole-riddled shirts. They had a look on their face that Szeth was all too familiar with.
It was the look of someone who had a xenos in sight.
"Hey. Look at his face…!" One of them said, shivering. "Those marks are…"
"So, the old hag wasn't totally insane then," the one who had spoken first spat back. "Why are xenos filth like him allowed to walk around freely?" He asked his companion, slowly approaching Szeth. "You oughta kill the damned specters before they spread the disease."
Szeth knew the drill. He had gone through it a thousand times. A band of thugs thought to make heroes of themselves. Kill the filthy specter before he gives birth to xenos. It hadn't ever happened before, but they care little for facts if it meant they could take out the frustration of living as the dregs of society on a defenseless boy.
Should I run?
I'm faster than them. But I really don't want to leave this place. It has such a nice bed…!
On the other hand, that man at least looks like he will kill me for real.
I guess it's better to sleep on concrete than to sleep forever.
Running it is!, he decided as he spun around and broke into a run.
Oddly, the men didn't chase him. An instant later, he realized why.
Another two men appeared from the other side of the alley.
He was effectively surrounded.
"You've nowhere to run, little roach. I'mma squash you right here and now," the bloodthirsty man said, closing his fists as he slowly approached. Szeth decided to run anyway and try to slip between the two people at the far end of the alley, but he was stopped by a kick to his stomach delivered by one of them, followed by another foot stomping down on his back. He gasped as the air was forcibly ejected from his lungs, unable to fight back when two hands gripped his shoulders and raised him in the air. He coughed uncontrollably, eyes glazing over as he observed the violent man slowly approach. Time slowed down to a crawl.
Again?
"You're about to learn…!" The angry mutterings barely registered on his ears, still ringing from the earlier strike.
"Not to mess with humans!"
THUD!!! A hollow sound reverberated through his skull. The stone-hard fist crashed against the side of his head, jerking it to a side and spewing blood from his nose.
Why is it happening again?
"What's wrong, specter? Wake up! Xenos don't need to sleep!" Another punch, aimed at his cheek, filled his mouth with the metallic taste of blood. He felt his head spinning. He seemed to drift away in a world filled with nothing but pain. Pain, and his own thoughts.
Why?
What did I do wrong?
Why am I suffering again?
Punch after punch, his body reeled in pain. Hit after hit, he felt the emotions he constantly struggled to contain bubble up like seething lava.
Am I wrong for being alive?
Am I wrong for existing?
Is it my fault this is happening to me?
Szeth asked himself these questions, burning from the inside. Always feared, always hated, always looked at as if he were already a bug. Abused and starved, thrown around. Everything for the damned Blight that ran down his eye.
Was it his fault?
No.
He answered himself, identifying the feelings flaring up inside.
It's not my fault.
The boiling hatred exploded, finally released from its shackles. The true thoughts of the boy who had been faced with unfairness time and time again came to light.
I'm not wrong.
It's not me.
It's this people.
It's this world.
It's the cursed Blight that's looking down upon me from above.
It's them.
I hate it.
Hate.
I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it!!!
A punch woke him from his deluded state, bringing him back to the cold reality. Szeth glared at the man beating him over with frenzied glee, hatred burning on his eyes.
"What's that?! Found your will to fight, little roach?! Finally accepted the xenos inside you?! Fine! I'll do the world a favor and kill you before you breed!" said the man. He kicked Szeth in the ribs, enjoying the sensation thoroughly.
"Any last words?" He asked with a sadistic grin on his face.
"…ou…" Szeth mumbled something.
"Huh? What's that? Say it louder, specter! I can't hear you properly!" The man brought his face close to Szeth's own, bloodied and swollen.
So Szeth did the sensible thing and spat him in the eye.
"I said, fuck you" he said with a grin.
The man wiped his face in disbelief. Saliva and blood all mixed into one disgusting cocktail dripped from his face.
"Why, youuuuuu…!!!!!" The smile completely faded from the man's face as he came down on Szeth, this time hitting hard enough that he would actually kill him before long.
Szeth felt his consciousness starting to fade.
Agh.
It's fine.
I don't care.
Finally fed up with the world around him, he decided to give up on it entirely.
I can't stand.
I can't fight back.
I can't do a thing.
It was an absurd world where the weak had no right to defend themselves. His fate was set in stone. There was nothing he could do about it.
He couldn't even bring himself to care about it.
Vision fading to black, all sensation retreating from his body, he released himself from the unfair reality with a single thought
I wish this world just went to hell.
Then, as if answering to his emotions…
"INDIGO ALERT!!! INDIGO ALERT!!!"
A piercing wail interrupted his approaching death. It was the sound of catastrophe.
A sound that one prayed they'd never hear anywhere near them.
"BLIGHT RAIN DETECTED!!! OUTBREAK PREDICTED WITHIN 10 MINUTES!!!"
The world came to a sudden stop. Faced with the Blight rain alert, both the criminals and the victim forgot their place, looking up at the giant flying billboard, where a commercial about coconut and lime-flavored energy drinks was cut short by a flashing green-blue screen. Diminutive little dots of black were already visible in the sky.
"SECTORS C-57 TO C-63, COMMENCE IMMEDIATE EVACUATION!!! ESTIMATED THREAT LEVEL: CHARLIE!!!"
The sirens of hell screamed.
Szeth was unceremoniously dropped to the ground as people started running. The men didn't even bother looking back at him. A much bigger threat had appeared. The puny specter was forgotten in the face of a real xenos invasion.
Thus begun the mad fight for survival.
Everyone scrambled away in a frenzied run, leaving the sore Szeth dumped in the shaded alley as he struggled to comprehend the words he had just heard.
Estimated threat level: Charlie. A Level 3 Blight Rain.
Hellfire was raining from the heavens, the color of sick turquoise.