'It is not very polite to call someone a devil while asking them for help' 'and more importantly what kind of devil likes plastic bottles, it's supposed to be an apple'

  'Sorry, i really couldn't find anything else,' he said in a half-apologectic, half-embarassed manner.

  Putting the bottle down, he assumed a passive expression once again before adding.

  'Don't worry, the revenge is all mine, i won't pull others into it. Your task is to gather information on them, especially on a certain assasin'

  'I'm afraid you overestimate me, I specialize in defence, not offence. Furthermore, this is the Axis we're speaking of, not some city thugs'

  'Don't worry, you won't be the only one on the job,' he said, sitting down.'We just need you to render help to the best of your abilities'

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  Something about the way he spoke the last two sentences didn't sit well with me 'and I...dont have a say, do I?'

  He didn't say anything, just smiled till his eyes formed crescents. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but then, why did the glint in those golden orbs paint a harrowing contrast with that smiling face.

  'Very well then...don't be disappointed if I do not live up your expectations'

  'Please make sure you do.' his smile never faltered.

  ........

  'Candyfloss, sweets of all sorts' cried the hawker, a child nearby tugged at the hem of his mother's skirt, his eyes dilated, throwing her a beseeching glance.

  The man in the cowboy hat leaned against the store-front, deeply engrossed in reading his newspaper

  Light chatter shroud the streets, Cicadas throng the air. All around me is a lively yet inoffensive city. The sun never sets before eight in this part of the world, a phenomenon I'll probably never get accustomed to.

  The sky bore no sign of the previous downpour, not a drop remaining on the streets. It's as if I'm the sole witness of a scene that never took place. Nobody remembers the rain anymore, or if they do, they choose to ignore it. I was baffled by my own thoughts.

  Such is the city of Mayville, where nothing unprecedented or unaccounted for ever happens.

  Alas, despite the clear skies, and the innocuous atmosphere, in my vision, a fog envelopes this city, the premonition of a catastrophe maybe.

  I never asked Vittore about the former places his family sought asylum in, not because I wasn't curious but rather because it's needless to ask.

  No land escapes sterility once the Axis lays its fangs on it, such is the power of that primordial devil.

  My walk back to the apartment is hauntingly serene as I listen to the birds returning to their homes. A puddle splashes under the pressure from my unsuspecting step, water soaking the soles of my shoes. Finally, a sign of what has passed.

  The church choir sings in the distance, their voices harmonising with the church bells, as they chant.

  ''.