A Wanderer in Trader's Point

Nathan looked about the stalls as they passed them by, contemplating the idea of making her something for a long time. He hadn't really thought of that prior to now, but also couldn't think of what exactly he'd be able to make for her.

"I'm afraid these hands are only skilled with a weapon. Making something of significant value would be out of my capabilities."

"I don't remember saying something 'of significant value,' my friend. Often, it is enough to know that the hands of a loved one put the pieces together, their eyes laid upon it to bring together the details, and their heart led them to do it. True friendship is appreciated through a different kind of value."

The Ajkadi girl drew quite a few looks from the crowd around the shops, displays, and stalls. She seemed aware, yet totally unphased from the attention, whether it was positive or negative. Nathan, by the sheer fact of walking alongside her, was also gathering some stares. Finally, Nahdra paused by a jewelry display - most of the items for sale being chic, edgy, futuristic, or shimmery metallic styles that looked like they would fit well on the slender necks of rich Deyshian socialites or perhaps some intercolonial businessperson seeking an expensive-looking flair, but certainly not on a humble Ajkadi. Her eyes passed over these items very briefly and dismissively. There were, however, a few pieces that looked less polished and more...real, as if they were designed by someone that wasn't filthy rich.

"Look here," Nahdra said simply to Nathan.

Nathan turned and looked at the pieces for a few moments, his eye catching a simple metal pendant shaped into knot work.  the small silver piece was plain but elegant, shaped into the symbol for infinity attached to the chain by either side.  He gestured with his hand toward the piece as if to ask Nahdra's opinion.  

"What do you think?"

"It is meaningful," she offered. "The shape of eternity can say quite a lot without using any words at all." Clearly this girl, unlike others her age, was more versed in symbolism than pretty jewelry.

[Previous post was Ajkadi, not ADR]

Nathan picked the piece up, holding it into the air before him. The small pendant was further dwarfed in his large hands.

"Its better than anything I could make..." he said quietly. "But...you're right. Making something would mean more, what do you suggest?" he turned and asked as he set the pendant back to its place on the table.

"Working hands are the artist's best tool," she smiled behind her mask. "You know no crafts, do you? It would do you good to learn..."

She glanced idly up at the sky for a moment, noting that time had gotten away from her. "I do hate to leave abruptly, but I'm scheduled for the next kitchen shift at the orphanage. But it was good to meet you, Nathan." With the hint of a smile, she bowed her head respectfully in farewell.

Nathan scared abruptly at her as she bowed, nodding briefly. She left quickly enough not to give him time to consult her about the gift or how to make it. He frowned, looking at the light and noticing he too had lost track of time. He began in the other direction, he had a job to do. He glanced briefly over at the data books displayed in a window, noticing the footage from security feeds of Akrai. Men wearing ragged black attire charging through the streets, Novalysian soldiers firing back at them and falling, one by one, until a Cascadian rescue picked them up. His eyes widened shortly after witnessing a young men fall to the ground short of the ship.

"Nick...."

___

Daylight burnt his wounded eyes as he stumbled through the rubble toward the clatter of gunfire and screaming. He felt his knees fall beneath him as he managed the doorway, the desert light scorching his face and glaring the scene, in the distance a shrouded man stood over a slumped body, soldiers nearby held a child crying for its mother as another shot echoed deafeningly out in the desert. Something hot struck his face as the unrelenting light seered his eyes.
___

Nathan jolted forward, sweat droplets falling from his brow and face. His breath labored and rough as he swung himself from the cot and grabbed his jacket from the chair nearby. His clothes wrinkled from sleep and thrashing of his nightmare he wandered out into the streets well past midnight. The cold night air helped calm his nerves as he walked aimlessly from one street to the next.

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The air was cool and mild, and had been holding onto the humidity of Deysha's oceans for long enough that it might invite the sensation of a light rain sometime before dawn. Even in the middle of the night, the streets of Trader's Point hummed with a subtle energy; the city never truly slept, mostly due to the undying exchange of ships in and out of the port, hoverbuses buzzing cargo and tourists back and forth, and the graveyard shift workers attending to their various duties. The streets were well-lit and kept tidy enough, but...still, the pristine storybook glisten of Tyton was a far-off dream compared to Trader's Point.

As Nathan wandered the streets, unwittingly going further from the business districts and into the paths-less-traveled, he stuck out because he didn't fit the typical forms: he clearly wasn't a cargo worker, ship crewman, street vendor, or businessman. And even here, that attracted the wrong kind of attention...

He passed by a slightly run-down mechanic's garage. The parking lot loomed before him, eating up half a city block of parked cruisers before the next lit establishment. He could turn and head back towards the business district proper, or continue on.

Nathan continued walking into the darker streets. The urge to move away from society and people influenced his seemingly aimless movements in the night, trying to clear his head or his nightmare...and what he had seen on the data book feed in the shopping center of Trader's Point.

"Freeze, motherfucker," the simultaneous hum of a deep voice and the decisive click of a gun rose out from somewhere in the black alley from somewhere behind Nathan. "Show me your hands."

Nathan stopped dead in his tracks but did not raise his hands. His body instinctively went into a defensive posture as he waited, listened. His mind once flowing with painful memories now clear, focused entirely on the situation at hand. He took one deep breath, slowing his heart rate to keep from overreacting. Only then did his hands raise into the air, slowly, decisively as he turned toward the gunmen's voice. Nathan's eyes mechanical glow piercing the darkness that surrounded him as he watched the assailant closely.

A hooded figure stood about three feet away with a handgun leveled right towards Nathan's head. Darkness shrouded him, but he was fairly short and seemed to be wearing baggy street clothes.

"Turn back around! I didn't say you could look at me. Turn the fuck around."

Nathan stood steadfast facing the handgun pointed heavily up toward his head. His height aided him, making it a strain for the man to aim toward his head. He looked back face devoid of all emotion.

"If you intend to kill me you will have to look in my eyes as you pull the trigger," he said calmly. "What do you want? What would killing me gain you?"

There was a very brief pause, as if this hooded individual hadn't planned for that response.

"Drop your money and you can walk away. It's that simple, man."

Nathan let out a controlled breath, slowly exhaling as he took a single step toward the gunman.  

"How many men have you killed?"

The man held his stance, but stiffened his arms and tightened the grip on his handgun.

"Not another fucking step, or I'll blow your head off. I said drop your money."

"Relax your muscles, it makes it easier." he said as he stood watching. He cursed himself for leaving the quarters in such a rush, absently leaving behind his own weapon on the chair where he had grabbed his coat. Only a step more and he could reach the gun fast enough to disarm him before he could fire, but he was too distant.

He blinked. "You have three seconds to drop your money and walk the fuck away. One."

Nathan reached his hands down as if to reach for his pockets and comply with the gunmen. Two. he thought. He suddenly jerked the flat of his palm toward the barrel of the gun as he side stepped the opposite direction, knowing he could do no more than push the gun away from its aim at this distance.

BOOM! With a reactive pull of the trigger, the gun went off as soon as the shooter saw Nathan's sudden movement. It may or may not have had a chance to hit. Regardless, the gun was jerked to the side and the man's arm went along with it as he half-staggered aside. He immediately took a step back and tried to regain his aim for a follow-up shot.

The sound of gunfire echoed, ringing in Nathan's head as the bullet deeply grazed the side of his head. His instincts kicked in, despite being deafened by the shot that exploded next to him. He pushed himself forward toward the unsteady gunman, grasping for the barrel while trying to remain on the outside of the gunman's forearm.

Another shot rang out - a total dud, un-aimed and off-target. The trigger clicked a third time amid the struggle, but the gun jammed.

"Shit! Get the fuck off me! Motherfucker!"

The shooter was clearly not adept at melee combat and could do very little to tactfully fend off Nathan. Instead, he struggled to keep his hold on the gun and tried to make a break for it.

Nathan took hold of the barrel, using his other hand to hold the gunman's arm steady as he pushed the barrel against the weakness of the thumb joint.  Twisting the handle to face adjacent to himself in an effort to break the gunman's grip and loose the weapon.  Blood ran down the side of his face and drenched his dark hair on the right side as he fought with the man for his gun.

"Sonuvabitch! Get off!" Finally, the shooter was overpowered and released the weapon. He attempted to break free of the struggle and duck out of the way as much as possible, still trying desperately to escape.