Chapter 19: Travel Restrictions
958 Words
"Are you alright?" Elian Thorne asked the woman at his door, finally getting a proper look.
Their meetings before had been fleeting shadows. Jasmine Snow, scarred by domestic violence, instinctively shied away from men – even a high schooler like Elian. The brutality had etched deep caution into her.
Now, her arms were chromed cyber-legs. Elian noted they were sleeker than the clunky models common in Penitentiary-18. The lines hinted at power beneath a polished surface.
"Elian," Jasmine began, voice thick with embarrassment. "So sorry to trouble you again."
"It's nothing," he dismissed, stepping back. "I was about to cook for Luna Reed."
Jasmine nodded. "Luna," she called softly. "Time for home."
Luna Reed shuffled over, fixing her mother with large eyes. "But Mom! I'm starving," she protested. "Our place... it's wrecked! Nothing to eat there!"
Irritation tightened Jasmine's jaw. "Don't be difficult! We can't impose—"
Elian cut in smoothly. "Luna said you skipped lunch dealing with... it all. Plenty here. Soy sauce fried rice is quick." He offered a small smile.
Both Jasmine and Luna stared, surprised. Elian helped Luna, but warmth? Open invitation? New. He usually radiated careful distance, avoiding entanglement.
He cleared his throat. "Also," he added, aiming for casual, "I'm burning to know about the Crossing. Maybe we could talk... Ms. Snow?"
"Jasmine," she corrected.
"Jasmine," Elian acknowledged. "Hoped you might shed light on Umbra. If you're okay talking?" His gaze was earnest.
"Mom, please?" Luna whispered, tugging her sleeve. "The rice smells amazing!"
Seeing Luna’s plea, Jasmine sighed. The day's weight pressed down. "We... appreciate it, Elian. Thank you." Gratitude warred with lingering shame in her eyes.
Elian studied her. This hesitance, this burden... could she survive Umbra's brutality?
He held his questions until steaming plates of soy sauce fried rice hit the table. Casually, he asked, "The police earlier? How'd it go?"
Jasmine pushed rice around. "Neighbors vouched," she murmured. "They almost took me in – procedures – but Luna..." She glanced at her daughter, shoveling rice. "...self-defense... released. Might call later." She took a tentative bite.
Elian leaned forward. "Later," he prompted, "two others showed. Not cops. Who?"
Jasmine frowned. "No idea," she admitted. "Flashed something official at the police. They backed off. Had me fill a form. Basic info. Took photos of my ID card, front and back. Snapped my picture. Left." She shrugged helplessly.
"Just like that?" Elian pressed. "No explanation?"
"Nothing," Jasmine confirmed. "Except... one turned back. Said they might contact me. Told me firmly: don't leave Lorien anytime soon." Confusion filled her eyes. "Didn't say why. Or who."
"The police didn't question them?" Elian asked.
Jasmine gave a short laugh. "Credentials shut them down. Police didn't interfere." Her appetite seemed gone.
Elian leaned back, processing:
First, they weren't grabbing everyCrosser. Jasmine was home.
Second, they had serious official backing.
Not indiscriminate monsters. A sliver of relief eased his tension. Rules existed. Maybe.
He leaned in again, voice dropping. "Jasmine," he began, "your... situation? In Umbra? Role?"
'Umbra' – Pixel's term – was catching on.
"I... ran a cybernetic clinic," Jasmine explained. "In Metropolis 18. 'Jasmine's Cybernetics'. Installing, maintaining limbs like these." She lifted her chrome arms slightly, servos whirring faintly. "But... Elian, crossing over? Clueless. People came – tough types, scared folks – asking for work. I stood there, staring at this... alien workshop, saying 'out of stock'. Terrifying."
"And your arms...?" Elian probed.
"They came with me," Jasmine answered flatly. "Arrived... poof... part of me. Came back when it ended." She flexed chrome fingers smoothly.
Elian filed that. Cybernetics traveled both ways. Important. "Heard about Penitentiary-18. Nasty rep. Where?"
Jasmine stiffened. "Edge of Metropolis 18," she said low. "Infamous. Max-security. The Federation locks its nightmares there. Most fortified in the system." She shuddered. "The name makes people nervous."
"Federation system?" Elian noted the term. "Anything else? City? Factions?"
"Two days, Elian," Jasmine admitted firmly. "Two days of panic, pretending. A terrifying blur. Just keeping Luna safe." Her hand brushed her daughter's hair.
Luna piped up between bites. "Mom, the clinic? Big?"
"'Jasmine's Cybernetics'," Jasmine replied, fondness briefly softening her face. "Small. Why?"
"Just wondering!" Luna chirped, chasing rice grains.
Jasmine turned back to Elian, suspicion in her eyes. "You're asking specific questions, Elian. Why this... Umbra fascination?"
Elian offered a casual smile. "Just curious. Jealous you saw behind the curtain, scary or not."
Jasmine's expression hardened. "Curiosity is deadly there, Elian," she stated bluntly. "Umbra isn't an adventure. Unless you're born Lycoris Group, Chimera Syndicate, Thorne Syndicate, Kamiyo Clan, or Shikashima Collective..." She ticked them off on chrome fingers. "...life for others is hell. Prime?" She gestured around. "Messy, painful, but safer. Trust me."
Elian thought wryly, I'm Thorne Syndicate, Jasmine, and hell found me too.He shifted gears. "Plan now?" he asked. "After today?"
Jasmine took a deep breath. "Getting Luna away from him. To her grandmother's in Veridian City. Leave tomorrow." Resolve firmed her voice. "Then... come back. Divorce. Start over."
Mention of travel sparked Elian's mind. The warning, the ID photos... clicked. Travel restrictions."Smart," he said neutrally. "Book tickets soon. Trains to Veridian fill fast."
Jasmine pulled out her phone. "Right." Chrome fingers moved deftly. Selected a train, details, paid... Confirmation flashed. Then...
A red notification: Booking Failed. Reason: Administrative Hold. Contact Carrier.
Jasmine stared, confusion turning to horror. "What? Can't be..." She tried again. Payment accepted. Booking failed. Chrome fingers trembled against the phone.
As suspected.Elian watched silently. No visible restraints? He'd guessed other methods. The shadow organization taking her ID photos? Digital leash. Enforcing travel restrictions silently. She wasn't leaving Lorien. Not without their say-so.
The chromed limbs seemed less like tools, more like shackles. Shadows in the apartment deepened. The game just got far more complex.
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