Foreigner hadn’t shared a word with Itzhak since they left Jin to their devices. The moment they hit the pavement with commuters moving around his friend like some kind of obstacle to avoid, Itzhak seized up and became motionless.

“I apologize, friend, but I must concentrate. There is place I would like to go but my recollection is foggy.” Itzhak had whispered with a vacant stare. Foreigner merely nodded. They stood around awkwardly with passersby stealing glances at the two of them until Itzhak started moving.

The vacant stare hadn’t disappeared from his face and any attempt to engage in a conversation on Foreigner’s part was left in the air. Foreigner was hoping to get to learn more about this gladiatorial behemoth ever since he saved Foxtail and him from the mob of mercenaries just a day ago. If it was as simple as Itzhak and Foxtail hitting it off while he tried to establish a deal with Briggs, it didn’t hurt to establish rapport with one of her friends.

“It will take a while. I am turned around by the expansions of the district and need time.” Itzhak whispered as he led the both of them from path to path. At least now he understood what the hold up was all about.

And truth be told, Foreigner could use a little moment of introspection and city watching. Between fighting Sweepers and muscled animal freaks at night, investigating a kidnapping, and saving his friend from slavery in a gambling hall, there was a serious need to look at his surroundings and absorb the quiet time he’d been given.

The people walking around him were as sullen as he’d seen them when he first came to the district, with eyes teetering on hope and despair as if living was fickle.

He didn’t know. He could sympathize with their plights as they moved to and fro like puppets on strings but he didn’t feel that connection to them that he’d like.

Humanity is built off of mutual experiences and understanding

It was as if the part that made him feel human or connected to all of these transients was missing with his memories.

He looked to Itzhak and inspected his friend, a burly man with skin as white as snow. Just one look at the man told Foreigner he was more beast than man, with a mangled ear and facial scar and muscles taut with raw power snugly contained in a plain white shirt from Jin’s Meister. He even managed to steal glances at the man’s fists, lines etched into the skin from his fingers to a rune of some sort at the center.

Itzhak abruptly stopped and Foreigner dominoed into him. “I think we have found what I am looking for.” Itzhak turned towards an alleyway and walked into a door. Following along, Foreigner saw a well maintained sign with bright neon colors addressing the storefront as “Roiling Storms.” The symbol beneath was of a storm cloud with the symbol on Itzhak’s hand at the center. He entered into the establishment feeling electricity dance on his skin and making his hairs stand on end.

The inside of the establishment was bare and bright. There were mannequins dressed in armors and weapons at the corner of the room. Most of the other weapons were hanging on the same display wall, behind the counter where a woman with the same complexion as Itzhak stood. Itzhak was engaged in a conversation with the woman who held onto Itzhak’s hands and traced her fingers on the inlays. Her mouth did not move so however she was communicating with Itzhak was a mystery to Foreigner.

“Crackle! Thwack!” Foreigner turned to look back at the rest of the establishment, an empty expanse with blue floor mats and training equipment. There were multiple black scorch marks on the mat and the source of the noise made itself apparent to him when they swung again at a charred mannequin. “Crackle! Thwack!” The bark colored quarterstaff arced with unnatural electrical currents at its tip, the lightning dispersing into a localized boom before the quarterstaff properly smacked its stationary opponent.

“Felda, this one’s good to sell. It’s not a beauty, but it’s shining in its own way.” The wielder of the weapon spoke through their welders mask in a muffle and then registered the presence of Itzhak and Foreigner. They removed their mask and revealed a young man smiling widely at Itzhak with a pale face covered in soot and sweat, frayed blonde curls with black burnt tips, and eyes a deep and clear blue. There was only that unnatural sparkling blue covering the eye from end to end. “Itzhak! You’re back with us,” The man nodded in Foreigner’s direction, “And you have brought a friend. Maybe a potential customer, I’d hope.” Properly addressing Foreigner now, they placed the quarterstaff onto the floor mat and walked over to him.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, kind sir. I am Oliver and this is the Roiling Storm. If you are a friend of Itzhak, then you are certainly a friend of mine!” Oliver clasped tightly around Foreigners outstretched hand and shook him. Foreigner could feel the momentary static in the air fixate around the handshake with his skin prickling and tickled by the motions.

“Oliver, as I was trying to tell Felda, we are in a bit of a hurry.” Itzhak smiled as his hands were inspected by Felda. She was looking at his fingers now with a tubed scope on a pair of glasses, switching from one colored lens to another.

“Oh, is it gladiatorial business then? I said that it was okay to keep your membership here but I-”

“No, nothing like that. I think my days fighting in the Blade Garden are behind me.” Itzhak shook his head, eyes momentarily lost in thought. “No, my friend and I are going to save some people and I did not know where else to go. He needs a weapon and I need information on one, if you have it anyway. And maybe a reservation for the room upstairs to limber up for the upcoming struggle.”

Oliver frowned as he let go of Foreigners arm, the tingling sensation leaving his fingers numb and shaky. “I am simultaneously saddened and heartened by your story. We will do what we can.”