The smell of diesel was an odd one, a certain odor that was strangely pleasant yet altogether not. But it was familiar, the smell of the fumes, the rumbling of the approaching behemoth, the squeal of the brakes as the large white and rectangle came to a halt mere inches from the sidewalk - a testament to the driver's spatial awareness borne out of experience and time. The exhale of the engine was like a deep breath let out after a full sprint, the whine of its gears opened a folded entrance that stopped with a few clinks, letting out a breeze of cool air thanks to its air conditioner. It reminded him of his London, where holding your breath was a norm and exhaling came under someone else’s blessing.
While most would protest to the chilly rush of the cool air that was the bus' welcome, Hunter readily accepted it having spent the night in the blur of darkness and shadow. Like the exhale of the engine, Hunter had let loose his own deep breathe; his task was finally over.
"Good morning," the driver, a middle aged bald man with one too many wrinkles that spoke volumes with every line, greeted the Nevidian complete with a good natured smile. The driver got the barest of nods in return, a murmur back in greeting while Hunter slipped the dollar note into the pay receptacle and moved inside in search for an empty seat.
This must have been one of the first stops, Hunter surmised, noticing his ample choice of seats for the rest of the journey back to the Building. He took a seat roughly in the middle and noticed a few others came in behind him as well; a tired mother and her young son; a college student with books hugged close to her taking her seat quickly so she could reopen her textbook; an old man with a newspaper and a well worn cardigan and slacks; on it went as the bus became lightly occupied and the doors closed after a minute. A second squeal of the mechanical gears popped its doors back into place while the engines took a deep breath, preparing itself for another sprint as it moved away from the sidewalk. Hunter took a deep breath as well, out of habit and experience, physical memory overriding any common sense that he wasn't the one on the run. The back of his head couldn't agree to that statement.
The Nevidian kept to himself, preferring not to look and study the passengers on board. There was no point in it, they were the same as everyone else in the end; getting about their lives, completely unaware of the dangers that loomed so close. Or perhaps it was fear of accepting reality that kept them to their routines. Hunter could never figure out the reasoning, but it never failed to be classified as 'flight' rather than fight. He was something of an expert on the latter until recently.
Seated near the center of the bus, close to the rear exit, the former resistance fighter spared a brief glimpse of the passengers in front of him, noting the paltry few as he wondered if any of them had the gumption to take a stand if they were forced to. Most didn't, most wouldn't, and why would they? Their livelihoods would be on the line: families, friends... a future. Those he helped tonight with the Underground had lost all that here and he could only despair at the thought of how many more would suffer the same fate. Bielefeld was quiet for the time being, now that 13 failed, it felt as though one finally had the permission to breathe again. But for how long? Not when there was still people being targeted for no reason other than being something else.
"How long indeed?" Came a firm masculine voice that caught Hunter off guard. He tried not to jump, keeping his arms crossed so not to show any reaction. He looked up, just in time to see a middle aged man take the seat next to him, as though there were familiars sharing a ride.
"I apologize, I hadn't meant to startle you," the man said with a sincere smile. His eyes were sky blue and there moved quickly, as though spotting things around Hunter's head. "You broadcast your surface thoughts quite loudly, I must say. Fortunately, I can only pick it up at close proximity and I thought I'd approach you."
"And you are?" Hunter asked with a bit of heat behind his words, understandably feeling threatened even if the old man looked to be no threat to him.
"You're right; I mean you no harm. My name is Reeves."
"Well, Reeves," the Nevidian gritted his jaw and scowled at him, "Would you stop doing whatever it is you’re doing? It’s unnerving."
"Of course, again, I apologize. I'm so used to having a swirl of jumbled random thoughts that I forget to 'turn it off'," Reeves responded, going as far as making bunny fingers to emphasize his point. He lowered his hands, clasping his hands in front. "I'm sure you're wondering why I've approached you."
"You could say that."
The smile came back, albeit a bit bigger and only deepened the young man's suspicions. Hunter waited for the man to say something, but the old man would only point forward to indicate that new passengers were coming on board. Perhaps it was out of courtesy that they left the duo to their private conservation as the seat in front and behind were left empty. Or perhaps it was Reeves doing, Hunter wondered.
After a pregnant pause and the rumble of the engines as it sprinted to its next destination provided the perfect muffling needed for Reeves to continue, "I represent a group that wishes to bring an end to all that's been happening in this fair city."
Hunter made a slow nod, finally understanding and feeling no less threatened. "So this isn't a random occurrence. You've been following me."
A (large) part of the Nevidian panicked internally. How far was he compromised? How much did they already know? How did they know? Why did they choose him? The list went on and Hunter wondered if any of this was broadcasting as loudly as Reeves claimed his surface thoughts did, or if the man kept the courtesy to not pry.
"Just you, actually," Reeves admitted with a light shrug that distracted Hunter from his own worries. "We've been watching, mainly because we know you're one of the Residents, but you look human. You blend in without so much as a notice from the all seeing eyes that travel the city nowadays. We thought you’d might prove to be an asset to our team."
"And just how long have you been watching? And why?"
Reeves smiled then, "I wouldn't be very good at what I do if I let out all my secrets, Hunter. Suffice to say we've watched you when we can, and not much else. Partly because we work under the radar as much as possible and partly because our… abilities, if you will, do not extend very far. It’s a blessing and hinderance at the same time. As I’ve mentioned, we know you're part of the people that live in the Building; but also that you've got a much different past than most; and that you work at the tea shop by the Market District. But Lord only knows why; capable young man such as yourself could do more good than helping an elderly couple make scones and cookies and serving high tea."
"It pays well," Hunter said shortly, straightening his posture that registered to Reeves as his cue to take a different seat. "Look whatever this is..."
"Have you ever wondered how many more would suffer under the rule of this city's new regime?" Reeves interrupted, hitting the core of Hunter's worries that stopped the young man from saying or doing anything more. The old man tilted his head slightly, "Hmm? And what if they did take over? And what if more and more of us are targeted, indiscriminately (not that we aren't now, you understand), but wanton unrestrained violence? Would you keep running or would you make a stand? And just how far must this injustice go before someone, anyone, takes action into their own hands and pave the future?"
Hunter sighed, "Look I've heard this whole song and dance before. You're not telling me anything that I haven't thought about and worried on.."
"In sleepless nights,” Reeves said with an appreciative nod, as though he knew himself how those were. Or perhaps he went back to picking at Hunter’s surface thoughts. “Of course," the older man continued, the smile returning to warmth and understanding, almost paternal, "I'm simply letting you know of an opportunity… with my group."
The bus came to a stop and Reeves got up after the brakes grinded the vehicle to a halt, Its engines rumbled with guarded tolerance as a few passengers boarded and disembarked. Reeves was one of them, but not before taking out a card from the pocket of his cardigan with a phone number printed in the center of it. He extended his arm, letting the card sit between his fingers for Hunter to take, "Should you decide."
The young man looked up, studying the other’s pleasant demeanor with a weary eye; eventually he took the card, getting a nod in return for accepting it. "Until then, Hunter,” Reeves said, “Take care."
The bus peeled from the sidewalk, Reeves not looking in the window as the man disappeared into the crowd. The engines whined with effort as it propelled its passengers forward and the many buildings it passed became a shifting blur as it leapt to its next destination. When the bus stopped near the Building and exhaled its familiar huff for exerting itself, Hunter didn’t do the same.
