New Horizons

by **DonutCry** November 22nd 2021, 3:39 pm

Runaway

A red figure cut through a sea of people that flooded the streets of Manila. Ibarra was running full speed into a crowded space, shoulders barely brushing against the passersby as he forced his way through the narrow spaces between each individual. Following closely behind Ibarra were a dozen men out for his blood and giving him one hell of a chase. Beneath the broken and battered red mask he wore, Ibarra held a slew of emotions within, though none of them mattered as much as the exhaustion that was currently setting in.

It had been a full month since he had shot his way out of being a criminal organization’s hitman. Ibarra had escaped expecting a better life than just moving from one cheap motel to another, but the organization he had crossed wasn’t going to let him go so easily after what he had done to get out.

Things never go exactly as planned, as Ibarra ran for nowhere out of breath and vision turning dim, he was reminded of this one lesson that had been beaten into him by life over and over again.

Ibarra craned his neck back for a split second. The split second was all he needed to realize that he had sliced the multiple tails that were behind amidst the crowd. Without a moment’s hesitation Ibarra dipped into the closest alleyway, taking advantage of the lack of eyeballs currently on him. By slipping into an entirely different area Ibarra had hoped to completely lose his would be apprehenders, but again, things never go exactly as planned.

A blast of wind shot across the alleyway sending Ibarra flying up into the air before tumbling down on his ass. The boy quickly turned around to face the attacker’s direction and formed his left hand and fingers into a gun. Running straight towards him was a much older man with a knife in hand. The man outstretched his free hand towards the boy, ready to blast another wave of air, but Ibarra wasn’t going to have any of it. “Bang!” He shouted, and from his finger a bullet shot out landing directly on the man’s chest.

Upon impact the bullet erupted into a fiery explosion, one which Ibarra’s body wasn’t fully braced to take. He was blasted back, this time with a much greater force that took him over the edge of a nearby bridge. The back of his head splashed hard upon impact with cold water and Ibarra was sent drifting below the murky depths of a river without consciousness.

Hours passed. When he woke, Ibarra opened his eyes to the sight of the clear sky with his body floating aimlessly amidst a body of water. Immediately his hands rushed towards his bare face, feeling the cold leather of his gloved hands on his skin. The red mask that had always hidden his face was currently absent. A surge of panic that had been ingrained into his mind through years of training had instinctively made him cover his face to hide his identity. That same panicked movement caused Ibarra to twist and turn, burying his face underwater.

The boy quickly pulled his head back up and sucked in as much air as one possibly could whilst simultaneously coughing out the water trapped from their lungs. It took awhile, but eventually Ibarra came to his surroundings and realized that there was no one around to even see his face. While he was unconscious Ibarra had managed to float all the way to the docks of Manila bay. The explosion he had created had backfired on him, but things worked out in his favor all the same.

Just then, a deafening horn interrupted his train of thought. The boy’s blue eyes shifted red with caution, drawn towards the blast of decibels sent throughout the area. It was then he laid eyes on a metal titan, a ship that looked to have a whole city on top of its mass. It was so big, in fact, that it had taken up all the space around the docking bays and was currently the sole ship in sight.

For a few moments the boy was in awe, but then he looked back towards the riverstream he had come from. His mind ran rampant, thinking of the syndicate and how he was never able to hide from them, run sure, but never hide... not for long… then, suddenly his eyes darted towards the ship and then back towards the river before finally settling on the ship.

His body began to move, arms paddling as fast as he could to bring his body forward, yet they were heavy, weighed down by doubt and reluctance. Was this really the only way he could live a life more than just surviving? Ibarra wasn’t sure, but as he swam closer and closer towards the ship he remembered everything that had led him to this point. From being forced to slave for the syndicate as a meek child beggar to the death of his friends, all of it he remembered; it played over his head in an unending loop until he knew that there was no other option. Everything that had ever happened had happened because he wasn’t strong enough to stop any of it. Staying wouldn’t change anything.

Energy surged around Ibarra’s outstretched empty hand. His aura formed into a grappling gun held in his hand and he pulled the trigger. A black wire shot out from the gun and stretched on until the grappling hooks reached the very top of the gargantuan ship.

Before he knew it, Ibarra had pulled himself up at the uppermost floor of the luxury class cruiser, entering from its balcony deck. The boy crashed into the marblewood floor, down on his knees, and gasping for breath. Without anyone chasing him, the exhaustion didn’t matter much, so for the first time in a long time, Ibarra felt the full weight of his fatigue.

Ibarra was slow to stand up, but even once he was back on both feet, he was almost immediately knocked back down by the ship’s loud horn which blared once more. This time the horns signaled for departure, a fact that Ibarra quickly realized as soon as the ship began to move.

As if drawn towards it by a magnet, Ibarra’s eyes drifted towards shore. Watching his home from an ever growing distance, it felt as though it would be the last time he would ever see it.

Orange sun casting shadows overhead, the boy closed his red eyes and held back his tears, sorrow quickly fading into rage. One day, when he was strong enough to stand his ground he swore to return and on that day he would exact justice upon the syndicate scum that had ruined so many lives, including his own... right now though, none of the anger mattered. Ibarra remembered the final words of his brother, a voice shouting at him despite a fading life… a voice telling him to live. His eyes opened to blue pupils and Ibarra looked at his home one final time. Slowly the view faded until it was completely out of sight. He lingered on for a few moments, but eventually the time came for him to move on… so he did. Letting out a final exhausted breath, he picked up his slumped shoulders and forced himself to continue.

As a stowaway, the first order of business was actually finding a place to sleep, one that wouldn’t get him caught and thrown off board. The boy turned around, facing the long hallway of rooms behind him. He walked slowly, silently nudging each door knob he passed to see if he would get lucky and find an unoccupied room. Suddenly a door slid open in front of him and a tray peeked out of the hall pushed onward by a worker. It was room service. A worker pushed a service cart hurriedly towards another area without paying any mind to the clearly out of place boy.

The room service person had allowed the door to close by itself and as it slowly meandered its way shut Ibarra quickly nudged his foot on the small gap to keep it open.

Ibarra’s eyes shifted across each end of the hallway making sure no one was around. Once he confirmed the coast was clear he pushed the door open and slammed it shut behind him. Ibarra looked around the room he had snuck his way into, it was a large penthouse room that looked to be all but occupied. “Jackpot." Ibarra whispered to himself. It seemed luck was finally on his side for once.

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