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MAC Laboratories
New City of Macau

Hour 01:32

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Eyes are truthful. They speak for the heart of a man. More specifically the tired ones. The eyes which are alive, but the life is lost.

Heba stares at the glowing screen. And his reddened eyes glare back at him. He tries to remember the last day he had an actual sleep. The much needed one under the deep blue ocean.

His fingers idle over a few buttons on the many color-buttoned control panel, his lips curled in a frown.

A small glass bottle, filled with some honey color substance sits atop a low stool beside him. Accompanying the bottle is his ebony veil, splattered across the varnished wood, an impish corner hanging from the curved edge. It has done its duty for the day and now seems as if it is taking a break lying down.

Though the po-up screen in front of him appeared to be displaying quite a critical amount of important information on the honey-colored solution; Mari16¢, which Ze seems to have done a praiseworthy sacrifice in collecting during their expedition to Bello-Bioz last night, Heba seems to find it quite hard to grab anything to store in his memory.

For the past fifteen minutes, the much he tried to focus on arranging his documents for the urgent report that is supposed to be submitted at FFI soon, so they would consider their mission a success, the faint reflection of himself on the screen had kept him all distracted.

In the inky background, even amidst the twinkle of several thousands of white characters and signs of all sorts, he can see his marks glowing rather violently. Heba traces a thumb along a single tendril of turquoise on his skin. His soft skin burns under the cool touch making him hiss in pain.

Those turquoise lines, starting from the base of his chin, a little to the left than to the middle, sprawls along his sharp jawline, threading in the midway to make a mesh of shimmering tendrils that somewhat looks like a coral of sort, complemented the slight rosiness of his puffy cheeks as it weaved its way up to the crescent of his forehead from the side.

It's been a while since Heba has needed them. Since he has used them. And as supposed it has left him with nothing but regret.

He is still not very sure what has gotten into him to waste his precious energy on a weak Earthian. The one who he has strangled with no weapon but his ebony veil while trying to reach Mari16¢ 's secret locket. That imbecile had thought it was a good idea to block Heba's way as he approached the precious Chamber of Elements of Bello-bioz. For much of the dude's bad luck he happened to be looking so much like the punk from the Sky who strangled Won-sia in front of Heba's very eyes, seven years ago, or otherwise he would have had his life. Heba saw no other good option than strangling his triggered memory out to death. Though he was so certain that it would do no good to him, nor his target of life.

He internally curses himself for the mess he has gotten himself into. His soulful aim of being in FFI and being an Agent was not to show colors to weak humans. He is sure that the news has already travelled all the way from Macau to Shanghai and reached his boss's ears by now. He could literally feel the upcoming lecture on Code of Conduct for FFI Agents by his beloved boss, that he is certain of having to endure once he is summoned back, reeling in the auditory cortex of his brain.

The reason why he is sacrificing his precious youth, the one he could have been enjoying the hightides and rich golden sands, breathing much more easily under the salty water that could make him so much alive than those dry lands, requires the preservation of energy, not waste. Even without a useless fight his existence itself on Lands already drains so much energy out of him.

"So, you're saying the unit hasn't heard from him after that?"

Coming to an end of the examination on his marks, Heba turns back to his peer, who has been silently observing him for the whole time. He notices how the man's expression is void of emotion, as if he is one of those crack-code robots serving his agency. Heba's eyes catch a glimpse of the mellow glittery line creeping up to the white long sleeves he has paired with a pair of black leather pants.

They all bear those marks. His people. Those who come from the Sea. Who tries to survive on the Land, just one day under the burning sunlight just in the name of a grudge. Just because the Riots have decided to mess up with their lives. Or at least so is him.

It would always be two shimmering lines in a shade of blue twisting across some part of the Sea-belonger's body. But not two have the same pattern. And they held all the details about oneself. Inside FFI only there are only a few of them who have those marks, for Earthians never really could have faith on the blessed ones.

"X has reported his arrival at the Riots Spot about hour twenty-one on the seventh date. That's the last time he has connected the unit.", his peer answers.

Contrast to all the stories about those blue lines, the reason, or rather the person who actually brought Heba to be working for FFI in the first place, despite being an Earthian, had nothing against his people than an admiring eye to those glowing marks. His perceptions on both Seas and Skys were different from most of the other Earthians Heba had encountered throughout his life.

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A/N: This chapter has now been split into two parts for much comfier read. Head over to the next page for 'Turquoise II' Enjoy loves.

wc-985