Chapter 1467 (2/2)

Twisting her arm, Alana offered her palm to the sky and for a split second orange flames blazed upward. Whether it was a signal or a way of channeling her emotions, she didn’t really know. It simply felt good to blaze a little bit right now. Then she clenched her fist, stifling the fire.

She turned away from the window and looked at Hank. He flipped his revolver around, gripped the barrel, and tried to use the grip to hook the neck of the whiskey bottle that was just out of his reach. Rolling her eyes, she walked over and slid the bottle over to his side. “I feel fairly confident about beating them. Which is why I find my attention straying toward Randidly. Have you felt the edges of it? His image?”

“The one he keeps bottled up?” Hank poured two glasses and offered one to Alana.

She took it and sipped at the liquid. It burned her throat pleasantly, reminding her of her life before the System. To suppress those memories, she shot the rest of the glass and set it back down on the table with a grimace. “Perhaps, but it doesn’t make it any less alarming for those that know what they are looking for. Your image is too easy-going about its interactions with other images; you miss some obvious things.

“While the world below is a chaotic mess of image fragments flying around and impacting each other during the fights, a third of the sky is unnaturally still. I can’t get that monstrous motionlessness out of the mind. Just how strong has he become…? And that’s why I’m worried about the match tomorrow.”

“Because yur distracted?” Hank asked. He nudged the whiskey bottle toward Alana’s empty glass with the barrel of his revolver.

Alana shook her head and crossed her arms. The cold air continued to slip through the open window and lightly brush her hair. “Not distracted, not exactly. Although I do think that Paolo and Kayle want to win more than I do, precisely because I always beat them individually in the past. But no, the reason I’m worried is about the story that we were telling the world. In the past, Randidly was always the gatekeeper of strength. Donnyton tried to catch him and he trounced us.

“But now the Ghosthound has taken a step back. And I was practically ordained by him to take his place as the strongest on Earth. I have been ambassador and preacher to his use of image for years. If there is a Path that the Earth can take toward strength, I currently stand at its gates. Paolo and Kayle will want to destroy that impediment for the sake of everyone. They need to destroy it and shred the lock.”

Easing himself forward, Hank soon sat with all four legs of his chair on the ground. He took a deep gulp of his whiskey before he spoke. “You think yur loss here will be good for Earth. But fuck ‘em. If they can’t earn the victory themselves-”

Alana flicked Hank’s forehead playfully before he could work up a head of steam. “Oh shush. I’m not going to throw the match for the good of Earth. I respect both Paolo and Kayle too much for that. And as Randidly pointed out in the past, it isn’t always for the best for the planet to be universally confident in what it has been doing. A world needs… something sinister. An obvious villain. Or perhaps its better in this case, what the Earth needs is a Cerberus.”

“A gatekeeper,” Hank said quietly. He took his time and enunciated every syllable. Then his mouth twisted like a confused earthworm. “But why do ya worry cause of this image stuff?”

Alana simply nodded, meaning to affirm his initial word. Rather idly, she reached over toward his repeater, which was sitting on the table. She picked it up and carefully measured the weight with her left hand. “Because I’ve left Donnyton. I now work with you, freelancing for the Orders. I no longer stand at the pinnacle of martial privilege on Earth. As I take another Path, that image as gatekeeper weakens.”

“Trainin’ with me dragging ya down?” Hank grinned at her with a bright spark in his eyes.

Alana wanted to point the repeater at him and make a bang sound with her mouth, but understood that he wouldn’t find it as funny as she did; he was very serious about gun safety in other people’s actions, to an insufferable degree. Which was rather difficult to take, considering that he regularly used the barrel of his revolver to adjust the jaunty angle of his hat.

She set the gun down on the table. “My image is shifting. But someone needs to act as a gatekeeper. It might be accurate to say that my image wants my role as Cerberos to be slain so it can completely become the prophet of Randidly Ghosthound. Right now, the weight of the world’s eyes pins my image to Donnyton.”

“Huh?” Hank poured himself another glass of whiskey.

“Images are complicated. Can you not sometimes feel how its easier to develop your image if you and everyone else simultaneously think the same thing about it…? Well, I suppose you have the benefit of being a very one-note character in the eyes of the public.”

Hank snorted but didn’t seem to mind her comment. “Then jus stop lettin’ the people dictate your image. Also, why are ya talkin’ so much tonight?”

“Didn’t we already cover that I’m nervous? I’m a human being too.” Alana said. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

Hank stood up from his chair. “Then I can-”

“Easy, cowboy. You’ve already taken your shot tonight.” Alana grinned wickedly at him. She raised her leg high into the air and jabbed the big toe of her right foot against his chest as he made to stand. Hank didn’t resist and allowed himself to be pushed back into his seat with a dissatisfied expression.

Alana turned away and walked back to the window. When she spoke again, she changed the subject. “You’ll tell Dinesh and Tykes during your 3rd place match tomorrow?”

“I reckon’ they’ve thought it themselves already.” Hank nodded. They both were still for several minutes, listening to the cold wind carrying in the noises of Kharon humming busily with life. It was a reassuring soundtrack of peace.

Alana hoped Kharon would stay like this for a long time.