Drawstone

They arrived at the museum, a small complex of buildings devoted to specific eras and themes. Sly guided him through the front entrance of the main building and talked to the staff at the front desk. Apparently, the Archaeological section near the museum's centre displayed the Asutnahem relics.

"I only need 15 minutes," Hunter said. Sly nodded and triggered his wrist watch.

"15 minutes," his bodyguard agreed.

Hunter recognized the building. Although he'd forgotten the museum's layout, he still felt a hit of nostalgia as he remembered his father bringing him there years ago. Two giant mythological creatures carved out of stone flanked the entranceway. They had the bodies of men but with lions' heads. They held spears in one hand and placed the other on their chests. Hunter read the information on the small stand just beside the right-hand statue.

Scholars know little about these figures, but presume them to be an idealized form of a warrior. The marking on the back of the hand covering their chest signifies 'peace,' while the other hand, wielding the spear, symbolizes the balance of peace and forceful defence.

Hunter observed the rest of the small building. It was a showroom, maybe 1000 square feet. The biggest displays were around the walls, so Hunter started there. He had little time to explore everything.

He walked right up to the display he remembered the most. It was a painting of a man attempting to pull up a net which stretched down to the ocean's depths, having captured great, terrifying creatures. He stood on a small sailing boat, and Hunter recognized the symbol on the boat's mast. It was the same as Trey's necklace.

Glimpsing beneath the surface.

"Or self knowledge, depending on who you asked," he muttered. He read the display's description.

This painting is the second in a four-part series. Like most Asutnahem relics, scholars are unsure of their exact age, or how the ancient Asutnahem had kept them preserved for such a long time. Scholars believe the painting illustrates the pursuit of wisdom and the folly of the human mind. All four paintings feature the figure, whom scholars have dubbed The Journeyer.

Hunter observed the next display.

The 3rd painting in a series of 4, detailing The Journeyer's tale. His time at sea has left him stranded. Behind him is a resplendent kingdom, whose gates are closed, and whose guardians stand with their spears ready. They look at The Journeyer with hostility. He stands upon the shore, observing his distorted reflection on the ocean's surface. Despite the danger lurking behind him, a serene calmness radiated from his face.

Hunter studied the figure of The Journeyer. The design on his shirt seemed familiar, and after a minute, he realized that it almost looked like the Link sub-glyph.

Very interesting, Hunter thought to himself. He was seeing why his father might have developed such an obsession with these paintings and the people who created them. The symbol he had noticed on the lion-men at the entrance—the symbol of peace—was visible high above The Journeyer and his kingdom. Hunter wondered what it all meant. Unfortunately, he didn't have the time to figure it all out. The time limit he'd set for himself felt like it was the practical thing to do — it eased his mind and Syl's. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't wish he could stand here for a while, and contemplate.

Maybe this is what his dad had felt all those years ago. Hunter felt the paintings held a wonderful depth — meanings that could unfold and synergize the same way etherium could. He felt the same pull to understand and investigate that he did when he was creating constructs, and feeling the pulsing songs of etherium. He closed his eyes and considered the feeling.

What he was feeling wasn't emotional. It wasn't just curiosity, there was something else. He couldn't place it, but the feeling was something deeper.

"6 minutes," Sly said. Hunter opened his eyes and moved on.

The display informed him about the final painting of the series, yet there was one more painting next to it.

Although this is the 4th and final chapter of The Journeyer's tale, we displayed the paintings as they were found. Scholars believe the next painting to be the series' first, but that someone placed it last for poetic effect. This final chapter depicts the Journeyer having reached an ascended phase, symbolized by his light clothing. He extends his hands, projecting a symbol whose meaning is still unknown, but, given the story's theme, we assume it represents "completion."

With only a few minutes to spare, he contemplated the last display. It showed the Journeyer as a child: his hair was the same, his eyes were the same colour, and he wore the same sandals he had as an adult. He stood upon a precipice, leading into dark and unknown depths. A woman stood across from him, and a chasm stretches between them. She's held out her hand, inviting him to cross the gap. Hunter then notices that The Journeyer is holding a hammer, and some nails, and there are wooden boards and a rope beside him.

Was he going to build a bridge?

Behind The Journeyer is a raging inferno, within which was painted a symbol. He hadn't seen it before — unsurprising given his lack of interest in the Asutnahem until now. Hunter read the painting's description.

Scholars consider this a tale of heroism; they believe the flame symbolizes a force that compels the hero to answer his destiny's call, as represented by the woman inviting him from across the chasm. If the hero refuses the call, the flame will take him. But by accepting the call, he risks falling into dark uncertain depths. The symbol in the flame has had many names over the years, but scholars almost unanimously believe that it means revelation.

Hunter felt like he could relate to the Journeyer. He saw Sly glance at his watch, but just before he could say anything, a few loud pops echoed from outside. A high-pitched siren sounded throughout the museum's campus. It hurt Hunter's ears, and before he could ask what was going on, Sly grabbed Hunter and reached under his own jacket, pulling out a firearm.

"Those were gunshots," Sly said. The words felt like they sapped the warmth out of Hunter. He didn't know what to say.

"What do we do?" Hunter asked. Instead of answering, Sly pulled Hunter along with him.

Sly led Hunter to the back exit of the building, which had a large warning written in red, informing them that using the door would activate an alarm. His gun partially concealed by his jacket, Sly opened the door. After a quick glance outside, he cursed and shut the door. Then he led Hunter towards the front of the Archaeological building, pausing only to see if there was anyone around before continuing outside.

"Let's go," Sly said, pulling Hunter towards the main building. Hunter hadn't been sure which direction he'd heard the gunshots coming from. How did Sly know they weren't walking right towards the attackers?

Hunter felt every single absent point of his AR. If only he weren't weak, maybe he'd feel more confident defending himself. But what would he use? He didn't have a gun, so would he fight off his armed attackers with a stick?

Sly yanked him out of his train of thought. Hunter let out an involuntary grunt. Sly glanced at him and whispered an apology.

"I saw some masked men with guns in the next building over. I'm hoping they're all contained to the south of the campus, but we'll need to be careful and quiet until we're back in the car. Just follow me, do what I say, and we'll be fine. Okay?" Sly asked. Hunter nodded.

What else was he supposed to do? He'd have to trust Sly to do his job.

The sliding door to the main museum building revealed a corridor that stretched to the left and right. Hunter noticed the alarm was off and briefly entertained the thought that it might be a positive sign, only to have his hopes dashed by a shout and another gunshot.

"This way," Sly guided him to the left, avoiding the gunshot. He added, "Stay behind me. Use me as cover if we cross a hallway, but keep up." We need to keep moving."

Hunter nodded again.

They crossed a few hallways, Sly guarding Hunter's body with his own. They studied one of the museum's layout maps, with a small circle that said you are here. Sly decided against the main entrance to the nearby museum; it was too risky. Instead, they plotted a course to an employee exit.

They were about to cross another hallway when someone spotted them.

"Stay right there!" someone yelled as they were passing another hallway intersection. Hunter froze, and Sly cursed, standing between Hunter and the gunman. Hunter could barely see him past Sly's bulk. The man wore a facemask and was aiming a rifle at them as he walked towards them.

"Get on your fucking knees. Don't move a muscle. Drop the gun and push it away from you."

Hunter had a sudden flashback to his last interaction with the Comics, and he bit his tongue before he could say something stupid. He followed Sly's lead and got to his knees.

"Put your hands up, do not move. I will kill you," the man said as he got closer. Hunter and Sly both raised their hands after Sly put his gun on the ground.

"What do we do?" Hunter whispered.

"Just do as he says," Sly said, his voice low, "If you see me move, lie on the ground. Be as still as possible until I say otherwise."

"Shut the fuck up. I won't warn you again," the man said.

The man was just a few feet in front of them now. Someone else yelled down the hallway. Another armed man, but his gun was hanging off his strap. He had one hand in his pocket and the other on a mobile phone. As soon as the man closest to them turned to see what his friend wanted, Sly moved.

As he took down the man, he used one hand to push the gun toward the ceiling. He punched the man's face and the plastic mask he wore broke. He wrenched the gun away. Aiming at the second man, who was just drawing his own weapon, he fired three shots.

Hunter had remembered a moment from when he was a child, when one of his friends threw a ball at him. He was struck below the chest. The air rushed from his lungs; and he'd made this strained sound as he gasped for breath. The man made the same sound after the first shot, and then he gurgled as the second shot tore through his throat. The third shot seemed to hit one of his hands holding the rifle, and he dropped it as his body collapsed.

Sly hit the man he'd just tackled with the butt of the rifle. While the man was stunned, Sly stood and shot the man in the head. Hunter couldn't take his eyes off of the two dead men. He had never seen someone die before. Was he supposed to be feeling regret or guilt? Maybe disgust?

All he felt was relief. Hunter was glad it was them, and not him.

Sly looked at Hunter with disapproval on his face. He picked up his own gun and placed it back in its holster under his jacket.

"I thought I told you to get as low as possible," he said, pulling Hunter off of his knees and aiming the rifle back down the hallway. "Come on, we need to get out of here."

Another hallway led them further, with shouts echoing behind. More hallways, and they saw people running into a room. Sly's rifle was the first thing they saw.

"We're the good guys," Hunter said, raising his hands.

Sly tsked and raised his hands as well, but didn't drop the gun.

Their pursuers were getting closer. Footsteps and shouting echoed down the corridor. The odd gunshot rang out.

"We don't have time for this. You guys stay quiet." Sly said, pointing at the people who still didn't quite know what to make of Hunter and the bodyguard. Sly pulled Hunter along, but Hunter wondered if that was the best decision.

"Shouldn't we stay with them?" Hunter asked as Sly dragged him further down the corridor, checking behind them, looking left and right.

Sly shook his head.

"They're like fish in a barrel," he said, "and most of them will be too stressed to see that. The last thing you want to be caught in is a crowd, especially when the enemy doesn't seem to have any inhibitions about using their weapons."

"So, where do we go?" Hunter asked.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. I still think our best bet is one of the employee exits. We should be close to one now."

They heard more gunshots behind them and frightened screams.

"We need to get more distance between us and them," Sly said, walking faster, his hand holding Hunter's shirt in a death grip. Hunter did his best to keep up, but couldn't help but feel like he was being dragged.

They found one of the employee exits. Unfortunately, it was being guarded by more masked men. They traced their way and took another route. Hoping that there might be one more exit along the side of the building they were on.

The next sign they saw told them they were getting closer to the front entrance.

"Should we risk it?" Hunter asked. Sly shook his head.

"I'd rather find a room to barricade ourselves in and wait this out. I guarantee law enforcement will have the museum surrounded by now. They might even have a ship overhead."

"Why haven't they stormed the place?" Hunter asked.

They will assess the threat level to ensure innocent people avoid the crossfire, which is precisely what the terrorists hope for. They will attempt to negotiate their release, using hostages as leverage.

"Didn't you say that they don't care about losing their lives?"

Sly shrugged.

"It appears that way, but human minds can be volatile in situations like this. Your motivations can change without you even realizing it. Most of them might believe they're willing to die for their cause, but when it comes down to it, survival instinct is a hell of a thing."

Maybe he was right, Hunter thought. Maybe they'll be taking hostages. He'd seen how fast his own mind could change when his future was on the line.

"The people we left behind," Hunter said, thinking out loud, but Sly interrupted him.

"Right. We can hope that most of them will be safe. At least for the time being."

"Where can we hide, though?"

"Nowhere," a voice said from behind them, "drop the gun, and get on your knees. Hands behind your heads."

Hunter felt himself constrict. The room suddenly felt hot, and he was having trouble breathing. He realized he was panicking, but he focused on doing what he was told. Sly had closed his eyes and sighed, dropping the gun and getting on his knees.

It was a woman who had spoken to them.

"Now, my men are going to pat you both down. You will not make any sudden movements. There are many more of us here and only two of you."

Hunter nodded. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt 3 sizes too big. He didn't trust himself to speak.

Two men came and patted them both down. They were rough, and Hunter felt his shoulder slide out of its socket for a second as they lifted him up.

They took Sly's handgun out from under his jacket. The woman huffed when she saw it.

"Armed in Oberon territory. What are you, law enforcement?" the woman asked.

"Something like that," Sly said, "you should let us go if you don't want trouble with the guys outside."

"A group of padded-up fascists don't scare me," she said with a sneer. "You belong to me now, lawman."