Broken World: Law Breakers

POV - ARES MANGAL-GRAH

Ares watched Kirin with an intensity that mirrored the deep, brooding shadows of the room. She hadn't moved, hadn't spoken, lost in a vortex of thought that seemed to pull the very breath from the air. Each second stretched into eternity, his agitation building like pressure before a storm, yet he clung to the hope that this silence would yield something more substantial than her usual cryptic dismissals to his questions.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the walls pressing in, the silence deafening. Ares's heart thudded against his chest, a drumbeat of anticipation. Every muscle in his body tensed, waiting for the break in this maddening quiet.

Then, like the first crack of dawn after the darkest night, Kirin stirred. She emerged from her cerebral abyss, her eyes snapping to his with a clarity that could cut through steel. Her gaze was a storm of seriousness, her expression set like a fortress. Ares swallowed hard, the tension making his throat dry, his mind racing with what might come next.

And then she spoke, her voice breaking the silence like the first drop of rain after a drought. "What was your question again?"

"Eh?" Ares's jaw dropped in disbelief. She'd forgotten the question?

Then what on Earth had she been pondering over for all that time, Ares mused to himself, swirling around the bizarre characters he'd met on this alien world. The old, creepy woman, the eccentric Faraday, and now Kirin — the people of Earth were just plain weird. He wondered if all of them were like this, hoping fervently that wasn't the case.

Taking a deep breath, Ares tried to quell the storm of irritation brewing inside him. Then, with a tone of exasperation, he repeated his question, "What is the blood rain? That was it," he said.

Kirin nodded, then she said, "I don't know much about it."

Ares felt the last thread of his patience snap; he was about to unleash a tirade that would make even the most foul-mouthed Martian blush when Kirin hastily added, "Nobody else does, to be fair."

"What does that even mean?"

Kirin's shoulders slumped slightly. "There's a lot of things about Earth that we simply don't know or understand about our world, and it's perilously dangerous, if not outright suicidal, to try to find out. And like I said before, whatever scraps of knowledge exist are hoarded by those with power."

"But the blood rain," she continued, her voice lowering as if speaking of a taboo, "is one of the mysteries that's even more mysterious than most."

There was a spark in her eyes, a flicker of personal curiosity that defied her usual indifference. "Even with my disinterest in seeking knowledge, I want to know what the blood rain is myself." She looked at Ares, her expression softening. "I'll tell you what I know, even though it isn't much." Ares nodded, his irritation giving way to intrigue.

Then she began, her voice threading through the quiet like a needle through fabric, "No one knows what causes the blood rain or why it happens, but it's certain that it emerged after the first apocalypse. In the scarce records left by the first men, there's no mention of it, so it's likely to have originated during either the first or the second apocalypse.

"The blood rain follows a somewhat cyclic pattern, occurring twice every month. But the exact timing varies, making it difficult to predict. However, typically, days before a blood rain, the sky starts to turn red."

"Like now?" Ares asked, his eyes darting to the window where the sky had indeed begun to blush with an unnatural hue.

Kirin nodded, her expression grave. "Yes, although it's an early onset, the signs are there. That's why I've chosen this time to move."

She continued, her voice carrying a note of fascination mixed with dread, "The blood rain is interesting because it affects all living things: humans, beasts, plants, you name it. It drives everything mad, though the manifestation varies."

"For example, humans and beasts go feral with rage if even a single drop touches them, but plants react differently. Sometimes the reaction is instant, sometimes a bit more gradual. So, it's best to avoid staying near trees or even going into a forest when the blood rain is about to fall."

Then she began, "No one knows what causes the blood rain or why it happens, but it's certain that it emerged after the first apocalypse. In the scarce records left by the first men, there's no mention of it, so it's likely to have originated during either the first or the second apocalypse.

"The blood rain is somewhat cyclic, occurring twice every month. But the exact timing varies, making it difficult to predict. However, typically, days before a blood rain, the sky starts to turn red."

"Like now?" Ares asked.

Kirin nodded, her expression grave. "Yes, although it's an early onset, the signs are there. That's why I've chosen this time to move."

She went on, her voice tinged with both curiosity and fear, "What makes the blood rain so fascinating and terrifying is that it affects all forms of life: humans, animals, plants — everyone and everything. It sends them into a state of madness, but how that madness manifests differs."

"For example, humans and beasts go feral with rage if even a single drop touches them, but plants react differently. Sometimes the reaction is instant, sometimes a bit more gradual. So, it's best to avoid staying near trees or even going into a forest when the blood rain is about to fall."

She continued, her voice now more reflective, "Another thing to note about the blood rain is its curiously negligible impact on the environment. The rain evaporates almost instantly upon hitting the ground, leaving no trace. It doesn't even affect streams or rivers, but those bodies of water are fraught with their own dangers, blood rain or not."

Ares thought to himself that he now had a somewhat decent understanding of the blood rain.

He expressed his gratitude to Kirin for her insights. "Thanks for answering my questions," he said, then paused, his curiosity not yet sated, "I have one more thing to ask."

Kirin rolled her eyes, signaling her weary readiness for yet another query.

 "What?"