It was six in the morning. Mark and Richards were sleeping in their respective rooms at the hotel, for now at least. The sky was tinted with a brilliant shade of orange as the sun slowly rose up, illuminating the place.
The alarm set on Mark's phone went off. Mark stirred awake. Slowly, he extracted himself from the blankets and stretched, his muscles flexing at the exertion. He picked up his phone and called his grandpa to inform him of his safe arrival. He informed him about everything that had happened, receiving praise from his grandpa.
"Well then, Grandpa, I will get going. Gotta get ready and join up with that kid from before," he said over the call as he grabbed his toothbrush.
"What was his name again?" his grandpa asked.
"Sam," Mark replied as he put paste over his brush.
"Yeah, okay then. Take care."
"You too, Grandpa. Gimme your blessings."
"You will always have them."
The call cut, and Mark started getting ready. After he was ready, he went to wake up Richards, and once they were both dressed up, they headed to the lobby to grab breakfast.
"So, what's the plan today?" Richards enquired excitedly.
"We are gonna escort the kid to his grandparents, then depart to Mumbai. Agnivir is there as per the latest reports," Mark answered over his coffee.
"Alright. How long till everyone gets at least one activated stigma?" Richards asked.
"Probably one week. Everyone has an activated stigma by now, their development is just lagging," Mark said, wondering what would become of the government when the civilians had enough power to stand for themselves.
"I see. Hope we have stronger stigmas with the good people," Richards said gloomily.
"I am excited to see the stigma that kid gets. He will be a brave fighter," Drima interrupted.
"Indeed, indeed. Stigmas are something people won't mind doing cannibalism for, so we have to be careful. That's why I am meeting Agnivir, to see if he is a good or bad person," Mark said.
"Better hope he is good, or we are in for trouble," Drima said.
"Yeah," Mark said under his breath.
"Well, shall we depart for the hospital?" Mark asked Richards.
"Yeah, sure. Let's see if the kid is doing okay," Mark said, and they both got up and walked out of the hotel.
The streets of Delhi were lively with people and vehicles. The morning air smelled of foods from the roadside stalls, but the hustle and bustle weren't able to suppress the evident changes in the world. After the mass interactions with the Makito reporting throughout the world yesterday, everyone had more or less accepted their existence.
People were working hard to make the most of their stigmas. From police officers to thieves, everyone was using their stigmas to accomplish their tasks.
Mark saw a policeman trying to catch a thief who was using a speedster stigma. The policeman didn't seem to have a stigma. Mark sighed.
"As the host to one of the leader fragments, it's your duty to ensure there aren't any rogue hosts," Drima had told him once, while explaining how much importance Mark commanded here.
Mark manifested an ether chain and whirled it around him like a lasso and threw it at the thief. It bound the thief's feet, and he fell face-first on the ground, breaking his nose.
Mark and Richards chuckled and continued on their path. They took a taxi and arrived at the hospital.
Mark went to the reception, half expecting their demand to meet with the boy to be denied. After all, the boy's mother was killed in the attack, and the kid was shaken. Any interaction with outside people was denied for the time being—and that was what happened.
"Sorry, sir, but I can't have you meet with Sam right now. Please leave," the receptionist said gruffly, in such a tone as if she had been repeating that same line hundreds of times since yesterday.
"We are family of his. You know what, take a picture of us and take it to him and ask if he knows us," Mark said bluntly.
The receptionist hesitated for a bit and then took out her phone, took the picture of the duo, and disappeared upstairs.
She returned ten minutes later with Sam, who was visibly happy to see his two new friends.
"You should've said you're his brothers. Sorry for the inconvenience," the receptionist said and took back her place behind the counter.
"Hey champ, how are you doing?"
"Fine. Thanks for coming. So, will you take me to my grandparents now?" the boy said. His tone was monotonous and emotionless like a withered flower.
Traumas can make a child mature and grow faster. This kid, who was 13, was an example of that. Seeing your mother get shot multiple times in front of you wasn't a pleasant experience.
He knew this wasn't a fairytale. Mark and Richards wouldn't look after him forever when he had some family remaining.
"Where do they live? We can leave right away. Should I contact the receptionist for an ambulance?" Mark said, caressing the poor kid's hair.
"There will be no need for that. I had them call my paternal grandparents. They are the only family I have left, and they refused to take custody of the body, so the administration just got rid of my mother's body after I said my goodbyes," the boy said slowly.
"I'm sorry, that must've been so hard on you. So, are we gonna go meet these paternal grandparents to have them take care of you?" Mark enquired, as he cursed those grandparents for that shit behaviour.
"They won't take custody of me. I and my mum travelled to India because it was my father's first death anniversary. I will just do that, say my prayers along with my mother's, write my mother's name somewhere there, and then leave. I will go live in an orphanage," he said with a sigh.
Richards and Mark looked at each other. There was a moment of silence, and then he looked back at the boy with sympathetic eyes.
"There is nothing wrong with trying, you know. I also don't have parents; they died a long time ago, so I know how you feel. Stay strong, brother," he gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder with a smile.
"Okay," the boy said blankly and nodded.
"Where do they live, your grandparents?" Mark questioned, silently hoping it to be around the path to Mumbai, where Agnivir was last seen.
"They live in Surat, Gujarat."
Mark took out his phone and searched up the info, and the information he got made him smile a bit inside.
Gujarat is another state in India and Surat is one of the cities there, a few hours to the north of Mumbai. He found some flights from Delhi to Surat and decided that they would fly to Surat and then get a train from there to Mumbai.
He told the plan to his companions and they all nodded.
"But, well, one thing though. We can't exactly get you out of the hospital since we don't have a legal certificate claiming that we are your brothers, so this is a big problem," Mark said thoughtfully.
The boy's head drooped and then Mark got an idea.
"But we can sneak you out of here. Good news—this brother of yours just learned flying."
"You can flyyy?" the boy hissed, his eyes lit with adventure and fascination.
"Sure can," Mark said grinning and looked at Richards, who was sweating with fear.
"Well, Uncle Richards will be riding the plane. He doesn't like to have me give him a lift. We will go into the airport as if we are seeing him off, and then we'll just hang onto his plane," Mark said.
"Ooh okay, so what time?"
"3 p.m. Better get the ticket, Richards," Mark said with a smirk.
"Right." Mark took out his phone and looked for tickets on a flight that left Delhi airport at 3:20 p.m. After a few minutes, his hands fell helplessly as he reported no available seats.
"Too bad," Mark sniggered along with Sam.
Then they got up and left. As planned, Mark hovered outside the window of Sam's room in the hospital, Richards clinging to the ether claw for dear life. Sam nodded at Mark and jumped out of the window and grabbed Mark's other ether claw, and they flew away to the airport.
They hovered in the air for a few minutes. Mark noticed the kid kept readjusting his position to have a better grip. He morphed his claw and wrapped ether around him, securing him comfortably in place.
Richards looked at Mark with pleading eyes and he did the same for him too.
The plane took flight, and so did Mark, flying towards it. He manifested an ether scythe in his right hand and pierced it through the base of the plane to hold them in place. With a mild jerk, they were now dangling from the cargo hold of the plane.
"GRAHHH!" Mark groaned as he tried to hold himself steady and hoist himself up so he could carve out an opening in the base of the cargo hold to get inside.
He manifested a sword. He continued to pour more ether into it and soon it was like a golden welding flame in his hands. The ethereal energy roared across the blade. He used it to cut through the metal like a hot knife cuts through cheese. He pushed the metal plate he cut off inside.
Mark lifted himself and his companions inside and then pushed the metal plate back in place.
As they sat there in darkness, Richards would occasionally use his stigma and venture into the passenger body to check up and stretch out. Five minutes before the flight was about to land, Mark and his team jumped out of the plane and glided to the locality where Sam's grandparents used to live. He dropped Sam in front of his house and then they waited outside, hoping for the best.
A few seconds later, they saw the door being flung open violently and a man in his thirties carried Sam by his neck and threw him out on the streets. Sam's face was covered in tears, sobbing breathlessly, holding a picture which he was holding close to his heart.