Blood Lies

Chapter Three: The First Step

    Haimon checked out of his room and exited the hotel right after waking up. The oversized clothes he now wore accumulated around his waist. "How does he not sweat in this stuff?" thought Haimon, as the thick long sleeves shirt clung to his body.

   This area of the city was best described as average. Tall grey buildings, fast walking office workers and an absurd amount of coffee shops populated the terrain as Haimon surveyed the surrounding area. The grumble of his stomach soon reminding him that he only ate an apple on the way out the door.

    Walking a few blocks north, Haimon came across a small cafe that seemed to be relatively empty, his preferred state of any public space. As he pushed open the door, a soft chime was heard and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. 

    Seating himself at a table next to the window, a perky waitress casually handed him a menu and returned to chatting with the barista. 

    After glancing at the limited choices, he settled on a iced latte and a turkey sandwich. The bread was dry and the latte tasted like nothing, but that didn't stop him from practically inhaling them both within a matter of minutes. 

   After letting the food digest a bit, Haimon observed the occasional customer while organizing his hectic thoughts.

    The only reason he was sticking around after his brother's cold welcome was because he felt it. A strange instinctual pull, leading him from one area to another and making every choice feel natural. 

    Detective work was never really his strong suit, but this time he had a lead as to who was behind the attack. Haimon pulled out a small charred piece of cloth that he had carried with him since the day of the incident.

    The fabric was coarse and stained with ash, but the remains of a small insignia was still visible. Two lines met and formed almost a heart shape laced with smaller line offshoots.  Red blurred Haimon's vision and he quickly squeezed his eyes shut before feeling the burn in his arm.

     Pain, reminiscent to that of day on the hill, flowed from his shoulder down into his heart and made his head go fuzzy. Noticing the concerned glances from the waitress, Haimon lowered his gaze and tried to regain his breathing, but the inescapable agony only became more intense the harder he tried to suppress it.

    "Hey, are you alright?" the worried waitress asked while trying to make eye contact. 

    "Yeah," an unconvincing Haimon managed to breath out. He quickly pulled out probably way to much money before rushing out the door, leaving a baffled cafe worker in his wake.

      Once a safe distance from the cafe, Haimon leaned up against a nearby wall and looked up. The fire in his arm burning every inch of muscle and nerve, leaving him paralyzed where he stood. His sight, seemingly taken over with familiar swirls of black and red, moved with purpose and almost seemed sentient.

    The burning grappled his senses and make reality fade out of focus, twisting his muscles till it felt like they were going to be ripped apart. A sharp wave of anger tempted Haimon to unleash hell on the city, edging him to get revenge on unsuspecting citizens.