Because of my habits, I know this part of the city like the back of my hand. My mind wanders absently as I climb metal stairs bolted to brick buildings. The smog is thin tonight, I swear I can almost see stars. Off to the west it thickens and the sky glows burnt orange from the fires of the factories. East is a pale blue from the lights of the Citadel, home of the gods.
I jump across another alley, skidding on the loose gravel and tar of the rooftop. No one ever comes up here because it's so hard to breathe, but my lungs are used to it. The gap between the next two buildings is too wide so I walk toward the fire escape, when a voice stops me cold.
"Stop, please."
The words are innocent enough, but the voice sends shivers through me. Deep, distorted, crackling warbles, like a demon from an old radio. I turn to see those red eyes burning into me from a dark corner. I immediately avert my eyes, feeling afraid, as if I've done something wrong. I don't think it's illegal to climb on the roofs, but I'm sure it's suspicious.
"Come closer."
I obey wordlessly. Everyone knows resistance is a joke to the gods. I hesitatefor a moment as I see the monk up close. He is sitting on the roof, supporting himself against the side of an air vent. He seems extraordinarily small, no bigger than a child.
The monk's breathing is ragged, it sounds like static in an electrical storm.
"I am injured. Please help me." The words make no sense. "But you're a god..." The monk laughed, thunder barking off the sides of buildings. "And I am injured." He says again, holding a small, pale hand out to me. The hand is covered in red, wet blood. This is impossible. Gods are invincible, immortal. This is not possible.
"Please," he speaks again, breaking me out of my trance. "I'm sorry my lord, I will find the other monks at once." I turn to run. "No, wait!" I stop. "Please don't get the others." I am so confused at this point that I cannot do anything. I just stare at the form in front of me. "Where do you live?" The monk rasps at me between breaths. My obedient citizen brain kicks back in, and I rattle off my address. "Take me there, I can care for my wounds there."
I stare dumbly for a moment. Should I touch him, that seems like a bad idea, but he doesn't look like he is in any shape to walk on his own. Then of course there is the matter of bringing a GOD into my one room efficiency flat.
From this cloud of convoluted thoughts I manage to stammer out one syllable;
"How?"
"Carry me, fool!"
Well, that settles that. I gingerly approach and put my hands underneath him, curling him to my chest, expecting death to come for me any second. I gasp in shock as I lift. He is as light as a feather, and small.
"Hurry, please. I need to close my wounds soon or I will pass out."
I mutter some unintelligible affirmation and start running down the fire escape stairs. At this point I am pretty much on auto-pilot. The shock has shut down significant portions of my brain. The chill inducing voice directs me to be quick, quiet, and to stay out of sight. I just obey now, not even bothering to question why a god seems to be hiding. The idea is too ridiculous to fathom. I do, however take a moment to consider how difficult it would be to explain why I am carrying a wounded monk to my flat.
I climb the fire escape on my building the sixteen stories to my room, and crawl through the window with my cargo. I lay him on the sofa bed, and sit on my knees on the floor. The god removes his hood and I jerk reflexively away. His mask is a grotesque rubber and metal contraption, with polarized red lenses for eyes.
"Help me undress." He says, shifting on the sofa. Now I know I am going to die. I turn my face away. "My lord I could never exp--"
"Please!" The shrill voice startles me, and I jerk my head back to look at the monk. My eyes widen in shock.
"Ican'tverywelldothisonmyownandIhavetotakecareofmywoundorI'llbleedoutpleasejusthelpmegetthisstupidrobeoff!!"
Sitting on my couch, holding the mask in her hand, is a very fast talking seven year old girl.
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