Diego left the venue as soon as he had was able to slip away, eager to walk out the anger and disappointment that had latched onto him like a tick. After the fight with Charon, he'd been going on automatic. He didn't care when Dirtha congratulated him for a job well done, or when a handful of spectators stopped him to tell him how they'd enjoyed the match. There was really only one thing that he came back to all the time, how he should have gone to see Charon and apologize to him, instead of running away like a child throwing a tantrum. But what could he have said?
"Hey man, sorry for almost caving your face in and hitting you with an oar", the revenant mumbled to himself as he imagined the conversation, hunched and stomping away with every step, "Wanna go get a drink or something as an apology for losing my head? My treat", he kicked away a solitary pebble as hard as he could against a trash can, crashing with a loud clank, "Yeah, right".
Not only he couldn't shake his emotions off, but to make everything worse, his whole body was itching from the cuts Charon gave him. It was so annoying that he almost didn't regret roughing the boatman. Almost.
"Seriously, what kind of jackass brings knives to a wrestling match?", he wondered while scratching his chest.
At least, there was an advantage to his anger and how the constant itching only made it worse. He couldn't even be bothered to care about all the strange creatures that were walking all around him on the street. Did they look like an alien out of a cheesy B movie? Sure, whatever. Did they have more than two eyes on their face? He'd already seen sentient goops that had to tell how they felt so that you could understand them, big whoop. The cut on his side was driving him crazy, and yet another existential crisis wouldn't help it in the slightest.
"Now what?", he growled when he heard people screaming right where he was going. And the closer he got, the more he realized it was the absolutely worst company he could've had at the moment.
"Dead in the grave, not our workplace!"
Dozens of people marched in front of him in procession, stomping even harder than he had with the same pair of brown boots. They held signs with such charming messages as 'patchfaces must go!', or 'feed families not worms', to name some of the tamer ones. In line with the frighteningly diverse population of the city, the protest had all types of shape, sizes and genders within it, but every single one wore a red handkerchief tied to their right arm. Between that and the boots, it was their uniform, to quickly identify who was a part of their group, and to let anyone know for what they stood together.
"Fucking skinheads", Diego growled, looking at how they threw a shower of spit with every cry they made, at how passionate they were in their hate, "Not even dead you can get rid of them".
He then leaned on a nearby wall impatiently waiting for them to finally move out of his way, with a grim scowl that could be seen from the other end of the street. This turned out to be a terrible decision, since the living wave soon decided to stop in front of a makeshift atrium, blocking the whole street in the process.
"Thank you all for coming", A human woman said from the atrium, "We are gathered today for one important reason, to demand city hall to take measures against the tide of patchfaces that have plagued our city. For far too long we've endured how the necromancers use the bodies of our families with impunity to make cheap workers, so that a few barons of industry can deepen their pockets. We've endured grave robbers coming at night to the cemetery to deface the resting place of our loved ones and sell their body parts. We've even endured having to share our work, our city, with the dead at the cost of our dignity. The politicians have refused to look out of their windows so that they can keep enjoying the scraps from the barons' table, but today, we are here to say no more!"
The woman raised her fist in righteous anger, and everyone in her audience did the same with the same burning passion.
"No more will we stand for these corpses to spread their diseases through our streets! No more will we tolerate that our families become monstrosities so that the rich can become even fatter! We will not allow that our children can only dream of a future where they must fight against the dead to earn their bread!"
Everyone clapped and whistled to share how much they agreed with the woman. Even as he was drenched by his anger, Diego had to reluctantly admit that she knew how to manage her crowd, even if half of them looked like they had trouble making their own ass and faces apart. Still, so far he could only see it as the same emotional dribble that all politicians said, pulling at the heartstrings of their followers against an enemy that was as dangerous and evil as it was paradoxically incompetent. Now, did she actually believe what she was saying, or was she taking advantage of their anger?
"Many will say that we're blind to the needs of the industry, that the factories need more workers. But they aren't paying the price of having those savages running free through this city! They stay in their mansions and neighborhoods, far enough to avoid the consequences of their decisions", The crowd was getting riled up by the second, and Diego decided to pull the neck of his shirt up and try to blend with the wall, "And science is on our side, as the studies have shown how the humors of death twist the body and mind of these revenants. Why else would they employ so many of them for wrestling? These creatures are savages, prone to violence and unable to adapt to our society, just as the owners and promoters know. And I wonder, how long will it take for this violence to turn against upstanding citizens, against the common folk?!"
"How about you humor me and eat shit", Diego grumbled to himself as he flipped the bird against the crowd, "It'll be an improvement from what's in your mouth now".
One of the sympathizers overheard him and nailed a pair of angry, indignant eyes at him. When he noticed the scars and patches all over his face, he opened his eyes wide, shining with a glint of disgust.
"Fuck you looking at?", the revenant spat out to make get him to back off before he tried anything. The man stepped back, bumping against a larger woman, who quickly became aware of him and whispered something to another man. Then he did the same to another, and that one to another more.
More where starting to turn at him, and Diego was well aware that his scars made him more of a target with every passing second. A voice in his head demanded that he stood his ground even if it meant fighting against every single one of them. However, the more rational part of him knew that the best thing to do was to leave before things could get worse and he could get seriously hurt, and the revenant found it a much better argument. But he could still afford some defiance.
Without moving his eyes away, he threw a bullet of spit in front of the first man's boots, and then moved into a nearby alley to go the long way around. For a while, he kept looking above his shoulder, to make sure that none of the red handkerchiefs were following him. He kept walking until he was far away to stop hearing the woman's ramblings, and then walked some more to make sure of it. When he finally stopped, he found out that he'd wandered into the market, with its constant come and forth of people.
It wasn't too far from Dirtha's building, and it gave him the chance to think of something else than Charon or the clowns with the red handkerchiefs. He shrugged to no one in particular and went on looking absentmindedly at the wares all the different shops had, while the butchers and farmers shouted slogans in the background to attract anyone doing their grocery shopping. Two of them even managed to bring a smile out of him with their shouting match, taking turns to scream louder than the other did last time about how great their wares were.
"Maybe they should try to add a dancing number", the revenant thought. They were acting a lot like exotic birds, after all, showboating to bring attention.
He moved aimlessly through the maze of shops and stands, glancing at all the jewelry, food, toys, and all the many other things that were on sale. There were even books on all sort of things, that the translation spell somewhere inside of him let him understand. He hadn't stopped to read ever since he first arrived there, and could help but feel that he should eventually come around to discover what the people from this strange place had written over the years. Maybe that way he'd finally understand how they could find it all so normal.
Still thinking about books, he gave a dispassionate look at yet another jewelry shop, filled with rings and things that looked like you had to put on your forehead. But then, amongst the necklaces at the other side of the window, he saw something that hit him like a gunshot. His eyes were open like wells, like he had just seen a ghost.
They had a cross.
There was no way that he could mistake it for anything thing else, the same way you would recognize a friend after a long time. Diego rushed inside and went straight to the counter like he owed the devil money, shocking the man behind. This had even more merit than one would expect, as he could be somewhat described as the combination of a gorilla and a bear and almost reached the ceiling with his head.
"Can I help you?", the giant said, still taken aback by the sudden entry of a person made out of different body parts sown together and with his excited eyes locked onto him.
"Yeah, where did you get that necklace that looks like a cross?", Diego spoke the same way a machinegun spit bullets. He crossed his fingers into the shape, to make sure there wouldn't be any mistake.
"Oh, that one? One of our suppliers goes to this temple on Kelly Street, and sometimes makes them for the others that go. He sells us the ones left over together with other things he makes. I think they're called crustaceans, or something like that.
"Do you mean Christians?".
"That's it", the man clicked his fingers, and Diego's face lit up like a lighthouse, "That's the name":
"Where is this temple, where can I find it?", the revenant was already stepping again over his words in excitement. He had just stumbled onto a piece of home, even if it was something he had never cared all that much about.
"Sure, it's like 20 minutes away walking", the man rummaged under his desk, and pulled out a wrinkled map of the city. With a pen, he circled the wide space of the market, and traced the route through the streets, "Just go straight to Lys Plaza and then turn right for a while".
"Thanks!", Diego snatched the map away and turned to run to the church as fast as he could. However, he stopped in his tracks by the door and turned again to the counter, "By the way, how much does the cross cost?"