Capítulo 8: Job Hunting
Elliot clenched his teeth, his fist slamming into the asphalt.
Thump! Thump!
"Goddamn it!" he cursed under his breath, his voice ragged. Veins bulged at his temples and neck as his body tensed, his skin flushed a deep red. He wanted to scream, but his voice remained hoarse, suppressed. His throat burned as if he'd swallowed thorns. Passersby barely spared him a glance.
"Mother, Father, why is that person lying on the ground?" a child's innocent voice reached his ears.
"Hush, darling. That's a Red Blood," the mother replied coldly.
When Elliot turned his bloodshot eyes in their direction, he saw a young girl walking hand-in-hand with her parents. She looked far too innocent to already reflect such prejudice, but she did.
"But Mother, he's crying," the girl said, her concerned gaze lingering on him. Her parents hurried their pace, pulling her along.
"Kira, he's a Red Blood. They're lower beings, not like us," her father said, louder this time, though his voice was almost drowned out by the chatter of the other pedestrians.
Elliot forced himself to stand, using his good hand to support his injured shoulder.
No wonder they grow up so twisted when they're fed this nonsense as children, he thought bitterly. Then, muttering under his breath, he added, "Doesn't matter. I need to find work."
His expression darkened as he stared into the distance, where a bluish fog seemed to swallow the horizon.
…
Elliot wandered through the narrowing streets for a few minutes, the turquoise sky above casting its eerie glow. The surroundings were cold, the colors a lifeless blend of dark blues and blacks, yet the air felt surprisingly warm. It was likely no more than 4 degrees Celsius, but he wasn't shivering in just a shirt.
"Workers needed! Come on, workers needed!"
A voice broke through the stillness, pulling Elliot's attention. He turned to see an older man standing on a street corner, dressed in beige trousers, brown suspenders, a white shirt, and polished leather shoes. His dark brown hair, slicked to the side, looked almost black under the dim light. Their eyes met, and the man called out to him.
"Young man, are you looking for a job?"
They locked eyes for a few seconds before Elliot nodded.
"Yes, I am."
The man motioned for him to follow.
"Then come inside, lad."
Elliot followed him into a small, unassuming building. The man's broad shoulders and strong frame became more noticeable from behind, standing over 1.80 meters tall. The interior was plain, white walls, brown coat racks. A stack of documents sat on a white desk, with a few orange pens scattered about. Behind the desk, where the man sat, black containers and drawers filled with more paperwork lined the back wall.
The man extended his hand toward Elliot.
"The name's Pillar Winx."
Without hesitation, Elliot shook it.
"Elliot Starfall."
Pillar cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his chair, his fingers intertwined over his stomach.
"That's a fine name for a Red Blood. So, how long have you been in Avelor? Please, have a seat."
Elliot sat down across from him, his mouth pulling into a slight smile as he answered,
"Since yesterday."
Pillar's brow furrowed.
"One of the new arrivals, huh? What do you know so far?"
Elliot's gaze dropped out of habit, before replying,
"All I know is that there are different continents, that Earth is just one of them. There's Elisia, the kingdom of Avelor, or Zentria, and the currency here. Oh, and the different blood types."
Pillar tapped his finger twice on the armrest before speaking,
"Sounds like you got stuck with some of the harsher landlords."
His blunt words made Elliot chuckle, though he quickly averted his eyes when Pillar's sharp gaze met his own. After a moment, however, Pillar's serious expression softened into a hearty laugh.
"There's no need to be so downcast, lad. You should know, not everything is black and white. Sure, you Red Bloods are lower than the rest of us, but comparing you to animals? That's a bit much for my taste. After all, my kind—the Blue Bloods—are just as lowly in the eyes of the Green, Orange, and higher Bloods, whether they're full-blooded or half-blooded."
His tone was calm, his eyes meeting Elliot's once more.
"Still, let me tell you a bit about this world. It's called Hemorion, not Earth. And yes, blood rules everything here, not just by its color, but because each color grants different powers. But I'm sure you already knew that much. Any specific questions?"
Elliot's posture relaxed slightly as he shifted his gaze from the desk back to Pillar's face.
"Yeah, I do have one. Why does everything here feel so ancient? I haven't seen any electronics, TVs, or anything like that."
Pillar smiled.
"A good question, but an easy one to answer. First, the frequencies here are different, so most of that stuff doesn't even work. Second, your world's resources are severely lacking, not enough to sustain even the smallest country in Hemorion. You see, most of what existed in your world was artificial—your food, your sun, your sky."
Pillar chuckled to himself.
"Sorry, I tend to ramble. Let's get back to the job, shall we? I talk too much, and once I start, it's hard to stop, like now—" He chuckled again, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
Elliot massaged his brow, glancing at the documents on the desk.
"What kind of jobs do you have available?"
Pillar sorted through the pile, laying out five documents on the table.
"Two jobs behind the counter, one at a supermarket, the other at a bar. Then there's a job cleaning up the streets, one in local security, and finally, an assistant position at a detective agency."
Elliot stared at the papers for a few moments, then looked up into Pillar's blue-green eyes.
Working behind a counter would be nothing more than a slow death, waiting for the day I waste away as a slave. Street cleaning or security might give me more freedom, but a detective agency… That might open up some opportunities, even for a Red Blood like me.
Without hesitation, Elliot picked up the document for the detective assistant job and held it up.
"I'll take this one."
Pillar smirked,
"So, you're after the money, eh? Four Conts a week, not bad for a Red Blood. But I bet you have to hand over most of it to your landlords, don't you?"
Elliot met his gaze.
"Yeah."
Pillar sighed, his hands resting on his stomach.
"Well, I could mark your pay as three Conts and four Celi instead. The other six Celi would be yours to keep—secretly, of course. You could spend them, save them, whatever you like."
Elliot's confused expression shifted into a grateful smile.
"Thank you."
Pillar leaned forward, still smiling.
"All that's left is for you to sign the contract."
He gathered the documents, including the one Elliot was holding, and pulled a new contract from a black drawer.
"This one's the same, just with the pay adjusted, heh."
Pillar handed him the contract and an orange pen. Elliot scratched the back of his tousled blonde hair before taking the pen and signing his name at the bottom: Elliot Starfall.
Pillar stood up and offered his hand. They shook, and Pillar pointed toward the door.
"The detective agency's just down the street to the left. You'll see a big sign that says Blue Sharks."
As Elliot started to leave, Pillar called after him.
"Tell them Pillar sent you, lad!"
Elliot glanced at the contract in his hand, noticing both his and Pillar's names already on it. His smile widened as he walked away.
Thank you, Pillar…
…
Fring Street 95, Blue Sharks.
Elliot glanced up. A large wooden sign hung from a black iron pole, swaying gently in the breeze. He looked down again at the document in his hand. Black and white text, with only the signature in a bold orange—a sharp contrast against the bluish light that bathed the cold, dim atmosphere of the street. The words stood clear and distinct.
As he pushed open the standard black door, a bell chimed above his head.
—Ring-ding!
Five immaculate faces, glowing pale like the light of the moon, turned in unison toward Elliot. Four men, one woman. The men all sported slicked-back hair, either swept to the side or combed back, though one showed signs of thinning. One was blonde, two had dark brown hair, and the last had jet black hair. The woman had dark blonde locks. While the men sat in beige or black suits, the young woman, with her flawless complexion, wore a beige corset and dress.
"Business?" The blonde man to Elliot's right inquired lazily from his chair, stretching his arms behind his head as he leaned back.
"Take a good look at him, William. He's clearly a Red Blood," one of the brown-haired men in a beige suit commented, only to be interrupted by the man with thinning hair, clad in black. "That's enough, Chris. Even Red Bloods can come in with business, or maybe he's looking for a job himself. Use your head for once," the black-haired man grumbled, rubbing his furrowed brow before releasing a sigh.
The dark-blonde woman rose gracefully from her seat. "And what brings you here, exactly?" she asked.
Elliot's eyes dropped to the floor for several seconds before he spoke. "Uh, I'm here on behalf of Pillar Winx. He sent me... I'm looking for work. Here's the contract."
He moved forward and laid the document on the nearest table. The room felt cold, a result of its bureaucratic design, yet the warmth of the brown furniture and coat racks softened the sterility somewhat.
"So, you're from Pillar Winx?" William, the blonde man, spoke up, followed closely by Chris, the brown-haired one with his hair slicked to the side. "We only signed the contract with him a week ago, and already he's sending us an assistant! Looks like those fees were worth it!" Chris's laughter echoed across the room, while the other brown-haired man, his hair combed back, chuckled under his breath.
"That means fewer overtime hours, folks!" quipped the weary-looking man with thinning hair, the one who had spoken before. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and he ran his hands over his face, sighing again.
"Alright, that's enough," he cut them off as he stood up, taking the document that had been passed around. "Elliot Starfall, then. The gentleman here is William Smith," he gestured to the blonde, "and next to him is Elisia Pil." He pointed to the woman, before moving on. "These two are Christopher Vilgar and Elton Wald," indicating the two brown-haired men. "And as for me, I'm Billgard List, though most just call me Bill."
Elliot blinked, slightly overwhelmed, glancing from the brown wooden floor up to the five faces watching him. They wore friendly smiles—well, most of them did. Two of them simply regarded him with neutral expressions, but they didn't rise or confront him. They simply remained seated, offering nothing more than a silent acknowledgment of his presence.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
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