The night sky was a sickly orange. Flames enveloped the city. Buildings were floating in the air as if suspended in motion at the moment of exploding. The giants of concrete exposing their metal ribcages through the scattering pulp. Amidst the carnage was Belaphorde. He was standing by a self-service gas station with a broken motorcycle and lazily gazed out over the hellscape. Sick black was dripping out from the pumps.

"Bella."

It was his mother calling out to him. She was the only one who was allowed to use that nickname. Her voice filled with affection. The voice of an angel.

Her crusty arms enveloped him in a hug. Her body was folded and crooked all over, like a fleshy human origami figure. Belaphorde imagined it was the Kaiju that had crushed her under its feet.

On the other side of the road was a parking lot filled with people. There stood all the people he had seen die, and people he knew he had lost. Uncles with black eyes danced as if they were having seizures. Refugees with too thin bodies lying down in a fetal position. Pedestrians going about their day.

There were lots of new faces in the crowd in the parking lot. Agents with blurry frames. Cassandra was there. Headless. Spewing blood like a macabre fountain, just like he remembered it in those last moments.

"Mother… I want to come home."

Belaphorde allowed himself to nuzzle into his crooked mother. Her body blocked out the heat of the flames from the fire around them.

"Hush. Not yet. One day we’ll all die. Live until then."

The arms changed. Crystalizing with a black fractal pattern until they were obsidian glass shards digging into Belaphorde’s skin. Blood pooled at his feet. He looked up and saw a wide smile and a pair of white eyes digging into his soul.

***

With a gasp, Belaphorde awoke. He breathed in and out, biting his tongue and cursing himself over everything and nothing. Once he calmed down a bit he gulped down his water bottle.

He could hear voices from the office below, got dressed, and stepped out of the closet. He winced. It was too bright and too late in the day for his tastes.

"This is inhumane, chief. Just tell us where the Guide is!"

The voice was whiny and unfamiliar. Bel stopped and listened in from on top of the stairs.

"We don't run a charity here. Join our guild and sign up for a hunt or get out of my office." Vigo rasped out, his voice authoritative like a mafia boss from an old Italian movie.

"My sister is out there dying and your bitch ass kid is the only one who can help!"

"Get. Out. Now."

There were sounds of quick steps. The rustling of papers and a punch. Belaphorde rushed down to find one girl who had been pushed halfway out through the window. Another was getting up from the floor with a knife in hand. A third giant woman was holding Vigo down while blood was dripping down her nose. The three roughed up girls all had black and white scarves covering their faces.

Everyone stopped as Bel barged into the room. Vigo weakly turned his head up to meet Belaphorde's eyes. He looked old and ashamed of his weakness. Three dangerous Espers were at the edge of what the 70-year-old veteran could handle.

"There he is! Come on girls, we need to move out."

Belaphorde took out his gun. The room froze.

"You did not make an appointment. Turn around and go outside and nobody gets hurt."

The girls hesitated, sharing looks between each other. Bel's gaze was ice cold and moved his finger towards the trigger.

"Shit. He's not kidding."

"Let's get out of here."

With defiant huffs, the girl gang headed out. They kicked the door off its frame while at it, turning over rubbish bins and a fire pit in the makeshift courtyard. With them out of sight, Belaphorde holstered the firearm and helped Vigo up to his chair.

"Look at that. You have a reputation about you. The Guide of the Streets. A stone-cold killer." Vigo laughed a hollow laugh. "You'd think people are saying you locked our people in with the monster by the way they are acting. An evil psychopath. Ridiculous."

Vigo coughed. Bel stayed silent and picked up the papers scattered across the dusty floor. Numbers, names, payments.

"Uncle."

"Hm? Yes?"

Belaphorde held a stack of papers and tapped them on the desk to make a neat pile. He would not look at the old uncle.

"I'm quitting the guild."

"I don't understand."

"Take the money. Get your pension. I'm quitting."

"Belaphorde, I'm fine. I got roughed up but that's how it works around here."

"No. The guild is dead. I have other business opportunities. I thank you for everything sir, we really made something, but I'm moving."

Vigo clicked his tongue and shook his head. His tone was calm, almost patronizing as if he was talking down to a rebellious teenager. "And who is going to manage everything for you? Don't forget it's my expertise that created this guild. Now stop with this nonsense. Take a break. We'll continue our work later."

"Thank you for your concern. I will manage myself from now onwards. I will leave tomorrow."

Belaphorde knew old Vigo was smart. He would be able to work his way into some forged citizenship if he had enough money. All the younger man had to do was pry himself off his back. It was too dangerous for him to stay here in the Outskirts. Too dangerous for him to be his protector.

Belaphorde bowed and excused himself from the office and went back up to his room. His leg was throbbing. He'd see Tobi about it later if the inflammation didn't go away. He'd had to gather provisions and contact some people. But for the moment he enjoyed the luxury of falling back asleep.

***

There was banging at the door. Bloody shouts came from the courtyard. The closet door was kicked in and smoke welled into the tiny room.

Belaphorde could hear the blood rush in his ears. He tried to go for his gun but a hulking figure pinned one arm behind his back and pointed a knife at his throat. In his peripheries, he could see a white mask with a purple streak painted over the eyes.

He was manhandled down the stairs and was out of the door and into the gravel. The office burned. On the street lay Vigo beaten black and blue with blood smeared over his face. The shabby ladies from before stood in a circle around the old man, holding spiked bats and rusty blades.

"Look who's here! And after this man swore you were not home. It would have been touching if it wasn't such a pathetic attempt."

"Lair!" One of the girls with magenta hair shouted and kicked Vigo in the ribs. "That'll teach you to not fuck with the Skulls."

Belaphorde tried to process the scene before him. He felt like an idiot. He should have never left Vigo alone. He should have left earlier. He should not have shrugged off the threats. Of course, they had planned to come back when they left so willingly. He needed to save what he could of the situation. He straightened himself up and hardened his heart.

"You wanted me and now I'm here. Step away from Vigo and I'll come with you without struggle."

"Tsk- you don't seem to understand," the biggest Skull sister spat out. "We'll raid this place, take you with us, and if there's any complaints the old man gets it. Maybe we'll even break one of your legs if it makes things easier."

"Negotiation queen!" The magenta girl cheered on.

The masked Skull from before was behind Belaphorde. She grabbed his arms and twisted them. She kicked behind his knees to force him into a kneeling position. Belaphorde tried to speak up but got his head slammed into the dirt.

The girls did as they said. They raided the place and left it to burn. Bel and Vigo were carried off. Smoke, dust, and fire behind them.

***

The Skulls was a new group made of mostly ladies with violent backgrounds. They were not a guild looking to hunt for crystals. Rather they raided, extorted, and sold whatever they could come across to whoever would pay. Being an Esper meant you were physically stronger and made of sturdier stuff than most. The powers also helped with combating other humans just as well as monsters.

Belaphorde had pleaded for Vigo to be let go. The bleeding had not stopped from his mouth. But the Skulls would not listen to him. He was unarmed and powerless. His only option was to follow along. Keeping quiet and marched on with the hope that his obedience could save the old man. If he created an opening he knew Vigo with his cunning and unique powers could get out by himself. But the old man was bound if he thought Bel would be in danger.

The Skulls hideout was dirty and reeked of pot. It looked like a huge fight had taken place and no one had bothered to clean it up. Glass shards. Scratches. Scorch marks. Graffiti covered the murals of the church. Containers stacked on top of one another around a stone chapel. Up on top of the bell tower, where a golden cross would be, stood a red flag waving in the wind. Across the street were three warehouses. Big, beaten, and bent buildings that really just looked like family-sized versions of the containers. The Skull in a black bomber jacket and mask which had attacked Bel back at the office dragged Vigo into the middle warehouse.

“You go do your job, Guide, and you’ll see your precious dog again. Got that?” The big leader Skull bumped Belaphorde over the head with the back of her knife.

He followed along as they escorted him to the chapel. The guards on post opened the outer metal gates, revealing inner antique wooden doors. Exquisit carvings of lions and lilies adorned the entry.