To You, Happiness Birth Day

Localized from its original Japanese

His jaw hit the ground with a crack and stayed there. Nothing else he could do.

“We told you Mr. Sakurai–time and time and time again. If you can’t pay, we’ll make you pay.”

A swift kick into ribs.

Back alley Tokyo at night–trashbags and snack bars. Sakurai Shuu and three others.

His necktie wrapped around his head–a hand pulling him up by it. Shuu coughed.

“Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Shuu sputtered and said, “Please–for the love of–whatever you believe in. I’ll get you your money. I just need a little more time.”

Soft pats on his cheek. Between stinging sweaty eyes Shuu saw the wide sharp grins of the loan shark and his two buddies behind him.

“Hey. I get it man. Don’t think I don’t. But you know–this ain’t my house, it ain’t my rules. But you know whose house it is?”

The loan shark gestured for one of his buddies and they obliged–another kick into Shuu’s ribs. Shuu doubled over.

“I’ll let you take a guess Mr. Sakurai. What keeps the lights on in your shack you call your apartment? What takes you from there to the bars, what keeps you drinking yourself to a–come on stay with me here–what keeps you hopping from bar to bar, wobbling along the way? And tell me–what brought you to me after the tabs started adding up and what brings me to you here tonight?”

Shuu opened his mouth but he choked on his word. The loan shark gestured again–jaw-crack to concrete again.

All Shuu heard was “Check for his wallet,” and some shuffling.

More hands on him.

Into his pants and pockets. A phone and a wallet taken out.

“Well?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing as in nothing. Motherfucker ain’t got shit on him except the clothes on his back and the smell that alcoholics have on them. You know, that smell.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Then that’s a shame.”

“It is.”

“You hear that Mr. Sakurai? A god–damn–shame!”

A kick for each emphasized syllable. A harsh cough each from Shuu.

“Well Mr. Sakurai, if that’s how it’s going to be–if that’s how it’s really going to be–then we’ve got this for you. Listen up. We’ve got for you a job.”

“A–a what?”

“A job you pathetic drunkard. We know how hard it’s been for you lately–shit, for everyone. But we’ll hook you up with something nice. It’s a job over at the sheet metal shop. And I’m not lying when I say it’s a good gig, because it is. In fact, we can take you over there right now and show you around. After all–says on the paperwork that you’ve been working there for at least a month.”

Shuu swallowed and found his throat dry.

“You’re late on the job Mr. Sakurai–we get it, it’s fine, but you know what? The boss gets that too. Lucky you huh? So what we’re going to do–what we’re going to do for you is–here, gentlemen.”

More hands on him again. Lifted and dragged.

“We’ll have you stay with us and we’ll clean you up so you can see the boss tomorrow morning bright and early. Simple stuff, sliding metal into the press, I mean anyone can do it. And with the insurance kicked in you could get up to–oh I don’t know–at least a lot per finger. So tomorrow just lop off what you don’t need and we’ll take it from there. Okay?”

Shuu balled up his hands and started fighting again.

“Hold him tight!”

There was laughter. There was strain and panic. Shuu wasn’t laughing.

A lackey on each arm–dragging him. The loan shark leading the way. The light out the alley to the main street brighter and brighter.

Shuu’s throat scraping together. He sounded weak but he managed a yelp like a puppy.

Then a sudden motion and his left hand was free.

The lackey hit a trashcan face-first–out like a light. The loan shark and remaining lackey startled and looked back–Shuu strained to look too.

They were framed by the neon lights of various advertisements. Three of them.

All three in outfits not unlike 1970’s sukeban gangs. All three with their faces obscured–a big mascot bear head, a mask with a completely blank facial expression, a standard medical mask and heart-shaped sunglasses. All three came equipped–boxing gloves, a bokken, and a phone held out like it was recording because it was, respectively.

The loan shark gave them a once-over and said, “What the fuck is this shit?”

The girl with the blank face looked at the girl with the heart-shaped sunglasses and asked, “Hey, you filming?”

“I am recording–is what I’m doing, more actually I’m streaming. When’s the last time anyone actually used film?”

“Shut up. Are you?”

The girl with the bear head said, “She just said she is.”

“I want to hear it from her.”

“Kumakuma just said that I am and I am–we are live by the way.”

“We’re live?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure and if you don’t do something we’re going to–we’re losing followers.”

The girl with the blank face reacted and said, “Shit!” and redirected her attention back to the men. She raised her bokken.

“Hey. Assholes.”

The assholes said nothing.

“We–and by we I mean us, the Vigilant Vigilantes and the tens of thousands of followers watching this right now–don’t at all take kindly to assholes being assholes. Because they’re assholes. So what we’re going to do–what we started our channel for–is to beat the shit out of assholes like you. And maybe go viral along the way.”

The loan shark said, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what’s the fucking point of that?”

The girl with the blank face looked at the girl with the bear head–or Kumakuma–and the girl with heart-shaped sunglasses and said, “Did he not hear me?”

Kumakuma said, “I think he did.”

“What say you Heartbeat?”

“Doesn’t matter what I say–the comments are saying you should do something already.”

“Alright alright.”

The bokken was straightened again.

“Um. I know this is the part where I’d say something slick but–I guess we’ll just beat you up now.”

Then they charged and caught the assholes on the backfoot.

Shuu was released and crawled away and only caught glimpses. He saw some action. A fist to a face and a swing and a miss and a phone camera watching all.

The loan shark threw a punch. It caught Kumakuma across her stitched cartoon nose and she staggered. The girl with the blank face swung her bokken and the loan shark fell back–into trash. Kumakuma caught her footing and moved in to box the remaining lackey’s face in–he staggered then fell back too.

The girl called Heartbeat said something Shuu didn’t catch but then heard from her a cheer.

The fight didn’t last long–it was sloppy and not choreographed. But the sukeban gang were still standing and the loan shark and lackeys were not.

Shuu on his butt with his back against a wall. He was breathing hard when the gang turned his attention on him.

The girl with the blank face said, “Everyone okay?”

Kumakuma said, “Fucking no–I think I broke my nose.”

“What?”

“I think I broke my nose.”

“No you didn’t.”

“You really want to argue–ow fuck.”

“Guys–we’ve got hits coming out our eyeballs with this one.”

“We do?”

“We do.”

“My fucking nose.”

“Yes! And that’s how you do a stream! We got more where that came from soon, or we aren’t the Vigilant Vigilantes! Make sure to like and all that good stuff. Signing off!”

Heartbeat set her phone down and gave a thumbs up. The girl with the blank face cheered.

“Yes!”

“Alright. Don’t be too loud or the cops will be right on our butts too.”

“Shit!”

The gang started moving. They moved to Shuu. He shuddered.

He said, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Heartbeat said, “Why would we do that? We just saved your sorry ass.”

“Yeah. If anything you should be thanking us.”

“My nose.”

“You–you saved me.”

“Exactly. Still waiting on that thank you.”

“My fucking nose is fucking broken–can we get a move on?”

“Alright alright.”

Heartbeat then looked at Shuu and said, “I suggest you get moving too.”

Shuu swallowed and blinked and shook his head and said, “How–why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Saving you from not giving us a like and thumbs up for a job well done?”

“No–I mean–all that fighting and violence–you girls–you really did that.”

The girl with the blank face leaned in and stared Shuu right in the eyes. She said, “Hmph. I guess my response would be something like Picasso when asked about Guernica–no, you did that!”

Then Kumakuma pushed her shoulder and rushed. The gang started to peel out and left Sakurai Shuu behind.

We will follow the gang now.

They moved deeper through the alley and found their way over a fence and through a clearing and into an abandoned parking garage nearby. They took stairs up to a high level and stayed in a corner in the shadows. They had Heartbeat’s phone light lead the way.

“Well?”

“I think–I think we’re–yeah. We’re in the clear.”

“Good.”

“Pretty sure.”

“Fuck you guys I’m taking this fucking thing off.”

Boxing gloves tossed off–hands on either side of the bear head. With a firm motion it slid off–the blood made it easy.

Nanase gasped a deep gasp–then coughed out blood. She tossed the mascot bear head away and let her fingers float right above her nose.

Yuri took off her heart-shaped sunglasses and checked Nanase and said, “You’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be–ow. I’ll be fine after I get this looked at–which is going to be never basically.”

“Well. Let’s take a look at the numbers and see if we got any more of that delicious ad revenue.”

“Sure Yuri, let’s.”

Yuri moved her attention to her phone and tapped through it. Satomi moved to a concrete pillar and bent down and pulled into the light a case more suited for something like a bass guitar. She popped the case open and set her bokken and blank face mask inside.

Nanase raised her head and held a hand out. Satomi found a packet of tissues from her case and passed them to her. Nanase stuffed some tissues into her nostrils and left them there.

Satomi said, “Nana.”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“It’s a fucked up nose–I didn’t lose a hand or leg.”

“No, like–your mom’s going to be okay with you looking like that?”

“She won’t but what am I going to do about it?”

“I don’t know. Something?”

“If I had time I would but I don’t so I won’t. Yuri.”

“What?”

“How’re we looking?”

“We are looking–awesome actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Couple more like these and we’ll finally be able to pay these fucking things off.”

Satomi said, “Who let furisode rentals become so expensive anyway?”

Nanase said, “The market. So shut up and dance.”

Yuri said, “Make sure you stream it while you’re at it.”

For a short beat they all worked on their individuals selves.

Then Satomi said, “Yup. We’re all just making spectacles of ourselves. Yuri–we can split the cuts later. For now we just have to split.”

“Sure thing comrade.”

Yuri set her phone down and got to packing and so did Satomi.

Satomi said to Narase, “You sure you,” and Nanase interrupted and said, “Not like I have any other choice.”

She laughed and left Nanase alone and walked. She kissed Yuri in passing and then ran down some steps and was gone.

Yuri waved a peace sign to Nanase and went in the other direction. Nanase waved back and wiped blood on her sleeve and ditched the spot just like that.

The park–pinked by the cherry blossoms. Nanase sat at a bench and watched the people pass. The old and the young and some her age.

She wore her furisode. She wore her zōri sandals. She wore a bandage over her nose that made her sound stuffed and look tough.

A snap of a polaroid. A film sliding out.

Nanase turned and groaned.

“Ma!”

Her mother took the film and shook it and smiled. Her name was Shiori.

“If you think I wasn’t going to take some photos–you are sorely mistaken.”

“Could have told me you know–I don’t–I don’t like being caught at a bad time.”

Shiori said, “Those are the best moments,” and took another photo.

Nanase growled and put distance between her and her mother as she rounded the bench and sat down.

“Can you not?”

“Can I not what?”

“Can you not take so many photos of me?”

“You only turn twenty and celebrate your coming of age once. And it’s not everyday you do it with a nose like that.”

Nanase frowned and looked away. She scrunched up her face and then flinched.

Shiori looked at the new film and inspected and smiled again and set it and the camera away. She watched the children run and play around her.

Nanase glanced at her mother and said, “Where’s Dad?”

“That bandage is such an eyesore.”

“I already said I–sorry.”

“I know, I know. I’m just saying. Your father is on his way back home to start prepping your favorite.”

“Can’t be that hard to fry some chicken and make some miso soup.”

“No but he wants to make it hard so making it hard is what he’s going to do.”

Nanase breathed and then chuckled a little.

Shiori reached beside her and passed to Nanase a small can of PREMIUM BOSS BLACK COFFEE and said, “Here by the way.”

Nanase took it and said, “Right. Thanks.”

“Want to walk?”

“Walk where?”

“Around. Sightsee.”

“Um. Sure.”

So they got up and did just that.

The park path winded around and the petals of the cherry blossoms were at their feet and in the wind and smelled of sunlight. The can was cold in Nanase’s hand and she did not open it.

Shiori said, “Weather’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

“I never get tired of the color.”

“Yeah.”

“Your friends. How are they?”

“Yeah. I mean–yeah. Yuri and Satomi were there because of course they were. They were great. It was great. The ceremony–we all had a great time.”

Shiori said, “Great,” and smiled again.

“If you’re hard-pressed to come up with stuff to talk about you don’t–you know–have to talk about stuff. Just walking is nice too.”

“Oh it is. But can you blame me?”

Nanase looked at her mother. She was shorter, she had lines on her face, she held her shoulders straight and head high.

Then Nanase said, “No. Guess I can’t.”

They walked for a while longer. Hold on this visual for a beat.

The path began to wind toward a shrine. Old and small and modest. Shiori noted it among the trees and said, “Nana.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to take your picture there.”

“Ma.”

“No. Come on. We’re going.”

Nanase groaned but followed her mother there.

They reached the shrine. There was another mother and child there praying. They waited. Then they left and Nanase and Shiori had their turn.

“There.”

“Ma.”

“More to your left.”

“You mean your left. I’m blocking the thing.”

“Just do it.”

“Fine. Here?”

“Yes.”

A snap.

“Are you done?”

“No. Smile.”

“I did.”

“That was a grimace.”

“It hurts to smile!”

Then Shiori said, “That’s life!”

It made Nanase pause and she thought about that. Then for her mother she did smile.

Another snap.

Nanase hurried out of the camera’s view and toward her mother–Shiori shaking the latest photograph.

Shiori watched as the picture developed for a bit and a bit longer. Then she said, “Hard to believe you’re already an adult now.”

“I’m right here Ma.”

Shiori looked from the picture to her and said nothing–she just looked.

Nanase didn’t maintain eye contact for long–she squirmed. She saw another parent walking with their child in hand.

She said, “Actually.”

“Actually what?”

“I wanted–I’ve always–just something of a um–a curiosity of mine.”

“Curiosity?”

“I really don’t know how to put it.”

“Well–put it how you can and we can work it out from there.”

Nanase swallowed and considered her words and then said, “I want you to tell me about her,” and then paused and then said, “Please.”

Shiori blinked and looked away. She stared at the shrine.

The wind picked up around them.

Shiori said, “Her.”

“My–my older sister.”

“You’re older than she ever would have been. Taller too.”

“Mom.”

“Okay. What do you want to know?”

“For starters. What really happened to her?”

“I really don’t know. I wish I could tell you.”

“Okay. What was she like?”

Shiori said, “She–I–your,” and then she sighed.

Nanase said, “Never mind.”

“No.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. No. It’s not.”

Shiori needed to take her time and so she did. She breathed.

“Nanase.”

“Yeah Ma?”

“I can tell you this. You’re a lot like her–or she was a lot like you. You’re both stubborn and reckless and you never listen when I tell you things the first time and you both give me the exact same kind of headaches.”

“Love you too Ma.”

“But you’re both so bright. Two lights of my life and you both burn differently. Words fail me here but just know that it’s true and that I mean it when I say it.”

“Oh.”

“But the glow–the glow is warm all the same.”

No words came to Nanase so she said nothing. She looked at the shrine and heard the branches bristle and smelled the wind and felt the cold coffee can between her fingers.

Shiori blinked and touched at her face. She wiped her fingers on her light sweater.

“It’s been so long. So long. I kept photos but when I close my eyes to think about her I can’t keep her face in my head and I have to open my eyes and look at them again to right myself. It’s been so long now.”

“This might be a weird–do you–uh–do you love her more than me?”

Shiori looked at her daughter.

“Do I what?”

Her daughter looked away and said, “Wait. Sorry. I didn’t say that. That is a weird question. Pretend I didn’t–yeah.”

Shiori checked around her and saw another couple coming for pictures at the shrine. They stepped aside and refuged to the shade of a tree.

Then Shiori said, “That–you’re an adult now. What you just asked was an adult question and I will give you an adult answer. And the answer is I love you more.”

“You do?”

“I loved–love you both the same. But I didn’t give myself the chance to give her the love she needed, and that fault is mine and mine alone. It was my fault. I wasn’t ready to be a mother when I had her–I was too scared or I was too much of a coward and didn’t do what I was supposed to do and I’m sure it caused her as much grief as it does for me now and the years since. And in life you regret the things you don’t do. I regret not giving myself the chance to love her as much as you. That will always weigh heavy on me. Always.”

Shiori’s voice cracked at that last word and Nanase almost coughed from the growing lump in her throat.

“But–I think–it was a battle I had to lose. Destined to. Because when I had you I was twice scared–but I promised myself I wouldn’t be twice the coward. I would be the mother you both deserve. For you Nanase. And for you Alexis.”

Nanase looked down and her nose hurt when it sniffled. She clenched her jaw and that hurt too.

Shiori said, “I just hope I lived up to that promise.”

Nanase said, “With words like that? Doubly so.”

“But with the trouble you get into? Who can say for sure?”

“Hey–I–well.”

They both had a soft laugh as soft as the birds chirping and the petals touching ground.

Nanase opened the can of coffee and began to drink it.

“Tasty?”

“It’s bitter.”

“It’s black coffee.”

“Yeah but it’s the good kind of bitter. Guess I am an adult now.”

“You still have a lot of growing up to do.”

“I know.”

“You say you know but you don’t.”

“I–yeah.”

Nanase finished her drink and held onto the can.

“I miss her.”

“Me too.”

“I never met her but it just feels like there’s something there that’s missing and I can’t find the thing that can fix it and it sucks.”

“I know.”

“If–um. Ma.”

“Yes Nana?”

“If she–like if she came back, right now and right here, as she was–would you have anything to say to her?”

Shiori opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by a father and his son. They asked if the mother and the daughter wanted to have their picture taken and the mother looked at the daughter and they both nodded. The mother passed her camera to him and the camera was lined with light sweat.

They moved toward the shrine. The mother and the daughter standing together in front of the shrine. The camera pointed at them.

They both smiled. It hurt but they both smiled.

A snap.

Then Shiori and Nanase moved to get the camera back. The photo in her hand. Shiori shook it. The father and son still there.

Shiori looked at the camera and saw her daughters in the lens and what she had to say was, “Thank you very much.”

Epilogue – Katy

Quit                                                           Continue

She started with the most important things. Hair, makeup, outfit. Getting herself ready, and making sure everything else had been set up and perfect.

Because, if just one thing was off, just one, the whole night would be ruined.

And we can’t have that, can we?

Not a chance.

It was first things first, though. She checked herself in the mirror.

Hair was on point. Of course it was. She had done it herself. Tied in a French braid, not a single strand was loose or out of place.

Makeup. From the foundation to the baking itself, the final result had given her life. It was totally worth putting in the time to touch it up after rushing back here so she could work on everything else. A few seconds to spare made all the difference.

Then, her outfit. There was no way she was going to spend an entire school day sitting around, walking to different classrooms, bumping into other students in the halls, getting her best clothes all frumpy and wrinkled. That was like the last thing she wanted.

No, the last thing she wanted was for the night to go poorly. She had trust in herself, that she would be coming correct, but her responsibilities didn’t stay with just her. She had others to look out for, make sure they were alright. It was important. It was crucial.

But, for now, her outfit.

An olive green baggy field coat, the color going great with her eyes. A black sweater, the brand name stylized and on fire. Her skirt was denim, loose, hanging around her knees, ripped in certain places so the threads would hang. Then her kicks, simple off-white skate shoes, grey striped long socks that she purposefully bunched around the knees. It was a simple look, but it gave her the confidence she needed, that she could actually pull this off.

That confidence was already there, though, but more wouldn’t hurt, especially when it came from coordinating a cute fit. She knew that she wouldn’t be alone, either. She had others to look out for, but they were looking out for her too.

And together, they were going to get this done right.

Fixing her hair one last time, she set it into place before checking her phone. It was blowing up. No way she could respond to all of them.

But she found the ones that absolutely needed a reply. A group chat. She read through the most recent texts then sent a few of her own. Immediately, her replies were sent scrolling past the top of the screen. It was like they didn’t even read them.

But she got another text. Outside of the group chat.

Maria.

Asking if there was anything extra they’d need to bring for tonight. She thought it over.

Nope.

She sent her reply. She had it covered. The only thing she needed from Maria was to scope the place out before they’d get there.

Maria replied. She was on it.

She smiled.

Everything is coming together. The pieces are moving into position.

Checking herself in the mirror one more time, she liked what she saw. The final piece.

No, there was one more.

The queen.

And she was about to go collect her.

Grabbing her bag and keys, she headed out of her room.

But not before catching her mom on the way down the stairs.

“You’re heading out too?”

Already at the door, stepping into a pair of white heels. They weren’t cute, but they were classy.

“I am. I thought I told you this. Rehearsal dinner at the hotel?”

“Oh I know, but it’d be weird if we just passed each other without saying anything.”

“Then come up with something better to say.”

“Wow.”

Her mom stood straight, stamping her foot down. The heel clicked. She was smiling.

“You’re welcome to come with.”

“I’d rather go for spontaneity on the night of. Besides, I have my own-”

“Oh, tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Well tell her I said-”

“I will.”

“But don’t be out too late. I want you home on this side of midnight.”

She nodded.

“Sure Mom.”

She gave her a look.

“Did you tell Dad that you’d be out?”

She gave her a look. A beat.

“Dad’s not here.”

“If you tell him he’ll hear you.”

Her mom got the door, opening it.

“Shoot, I’ll be late. You stay safe, and keep an eye on your friends.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because Lord knows someone has to.”

Her mom winked, then reacted as if she was still surprised that she hadn’t left yet.

“Oh! Alright I’m off, you stay-”

“I know Mom, and I’ll do the other thing too!”

They both left the house, both eager to start their nights.

Katy sat with one foot flat on the floor, the other crossed over her leg. Deep in thought, so deep that she could drown.

To keep herself afloat, she kept an eye on the things around her.

The window beside her, watching as people passed, walking by, faces down, wholly engrossed in their world and concerns, their troubles and tribulations weighing heavy on their mind, turning their focus narrow and inward. Passing by, passing each other, only being aware enough of their surroundings as to not collide with anyone else. Minding their own business.

The entrance of the place, watching as people entered, coming in, faces up, looking at the menu above them, their attentions directed outward for but a brief moment. They’d speak with the girl at the front, who had to be entering the last hour of her shift, judging from how she kept scratching her neck, tapping her fingers on the register, and by the time she punched in their order, having to wait for it, and collect it once their name was called, those people would have already retreated back into their own worlds again, taking small sips, as if they were satisfied with their limited scope on everything. Their minds back to their business.

That was the problem, Katy figured. People were so easy to be absorbed in only their own concerns, that they would hardly, if ever, peek out of their shells and question just what the hell was going on around them. If everyone kept their eyes closed, then whatever they couldn’t see would be considered as normal.

But this wasn’t normal, it was just easy to pretend. The world was on fire, and nobody seemed to care.

The last thing Katy kept an eye on was her own reflection in her coffee, swirling in the black. Twisting. Spiraling.

Sitting alone, in several respects, it seemed.

Then the front door swung open, loud, and her eyes and the eyes of others darted up.

They had bursted in with little regard for anyone else, skipping light on their feet, skipping right to the front of the line, to the girl who had stopped tapping her fingers on the register, surprised at this person’s sudden entrance and approach.

Some raised their voices to complain, but more looked to see if there was a parent or guardian around to claim them… this kid. There wasn’t.

The kid had her arms propped on the counter, hopping up and down. She was already speaking over any complaints others might have.

“Hot chocolate please!”

The girl working the front punched in the order. The faster she got this kid out of the way, the sooner things would smooth back over. For Katy, just she found the whole thing funny.

Because to them, she really was just a kid.

“And do you like have marshmallows too?”

“Yeah.”

“How many can you put until you can’t see the drink anymore?”

“Enough so you can’t see the drink anymore.”

“Okay, how much-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The girl started tapping again.

“Oh are you sure?”

The kid asked too loudly.

“I’m sure.”

The kid then smiled, wide enough to notice a gap in her teeth.

“Thank you!”

For courtesy, the kid… Doris, no, D, tossed out some cash anyways, then skipped to the side to wait for her drink. She caught Katy’s eye, smiled wide again, and turned around, hopping in place.

Katy couldn’t let herself get too mad at D, it was as useless as getting worked up over the weather. It was simply out of her control.

That didn’t stop her from giving D a slight glare, even with her back to her, ready for when-

D turned back around, drink in hand, rushing over to the booth. If D had noticed Katy’s expression, she didn’t acknowledge it. She skipped on over, not spilling a single drop from the ceramic saucer and cup.

“Yo!” D said, finally giving Katy a proper greeting. If that could even be considered proper. “Mind if I sit and oppose you?”

“You mean opposite me?”

“Okay,” D said.

Katy took a sip of her own, then said, “The more things change.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, I let the lady keep the change.”

Katy rolled her eyes at that.

D spun her cup so she could better see the logo. She glanced at the people sitting around them. Only now, did she try to take stock at what was around her.

“Cafe Sharktooth, what’s with this place?”

Katy set her cup down, into the saucer. It made a light clanking sound.

“There’s nothing with this place. It’s just convenient. I needed somewhere we can meet, and I thought of here. That’s it.”

D shrugged, still staring at her cup. Her drink.

“Yeah, they should have put more marshmallows.”

Katy pursed her lips together. She drew a breath across the top of her coffee. The image of her rippled.

A lot was on Katy’s mind. Concerns. Troubles. Her own business. But she knew to keep her eyes open to her surroundings. Stay alert. Stay diligent.

“Bitter?”

Katy looked at D again, a slight shake of her head.

“Over what?”

D pointed with her lips.

“I’m asking if your coffee is bitter. You didn’t put anything in it?”

“I didn’t really want to.”

“Whoa,” D said, “Whoa whoa. The world of grown-ups sounds pretty spooky.”

“Don’t put so much thought into it.”

“But there has to be a reason, right? There has to be a reason for everything.”

“That? Coming from you? I thought people who need a reason to do things are trash in your eyes.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” D said, smiling with her eyes closed, “It’s just more fun that way. My way. But that’s why I asked.”

“And that’s why I told you not to put so much thought into it.”

“Oof, you sure you don’t need some sugar?”

Katy breathed.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, we can end this right now,” Katy said, “You don’t have to be here, and neither do I.”

D threw her hands up in an attempt to placate Katy. But it just looked like she was messing around some more.

“Whoa whoa whoa! What happened to you Big Sis? You did get so bitter. And cold. You should like really super lighten up, it’s already summer you know!”

Her only response was to raise her chin by a fraction. Katy was patient. She’d have to be, when dealing with someone like D. No, only when dealing with D, because there wasn’t anyone else like her.

She took the time to look out the window again. People passing. Minding their own business.

It was summer already.

Katy’s thoughts drifted to the time passed. The things lost along the way.

“So, any updates?”

Refocusing, Katy looked back at D.

She had a mouth full of hot chocolate and marshmallows, but made a point to finish it before adding, “I imagine that’s why I’m here.”

“You’re here because I need help, and I’m able to admit that and do something about it.”

“Sounds like a lot of work for me.”

“Depends on the work.”

D propped her elbows on the table. Katy considered saying something but didn’t.

“But before that… I want to hear from you, first.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s been forever. Yeah, come on. It’s summer, the sun’s out, I… we should be out there playing! So… enlighten me.”

Katy sighed. Listless. Drifting to that lost time again. Those things.

“There is… nothing worth mentioning.”

D pouted.

“Come ooooon, that can’t be true! You should tell me something. Anything.”

“And why should I?”

D tilted her chin down, slight, batting her eyes.

“Because we’re family, aren’t we? We’re practically sisters. And sisters basically share everything.”

“You have a severely skewed sense of sisterhood,” Katy said.

D shrugged.

“So it doesn’t have to be everything. That’s fine. Just give me something, anything.”

Then D grinned. Her ‘little sister,’ but they had something that ran deeper than any blood relation.

She was playing with her, Katy knew. To D, everything was a game. But that was fine too. Katy wasn’t unfamiliar with the rules. She played along.

“You tell me what you want to know, then.”

She watched as D put some serious consideration into it. Or, it was more likely that she was just messing around some more. Actually, knowing her, it was absolutely the latter.

“Oh!” D said. She jumped in her seat and snapped her fingers. “Let’s start with school. That’s always a good place to start. Yeah. School! How’s school?”

“You sound like Mom,” Katy said.

“Well, it’s been some time since I’ve last stepped into a classroom. I’ve forgotten what it’s like. Tell me about it.”

Katy answered. Not the actual question, but what D had implied instead. It was part of the game. D wouldn’t act so direct unless she was working at something else.

“What’s to say? It’s not like it changed since the last time you stepped in one. School is… school. The classes, the hallways, the textbooks. The… people. The uncomfortable silences, the uneasy tension, the lack of spirit, the passing whispers and stares. The plastered smiles. Everyone minding their own business. It’s all… normal.”

D tapped a finger on her chin.

“Hm. Sounds boring.”

“Like I said. Nothing worth mentioning. At least I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“There has to be something,” D said. She wouldn’t let it go. “Give me something juicy. I thirst for whatever is fun and interesting. That’s my vice. I’d ask you yours, but I think I already know it.”

Katy raised an eyebrow.

“And that is?”

D tapped her chin again, then wagged her finger. Back and forth.

“No way, Big Sis, I asked first.”

Katy fought the urge to gesture or react in any way. D was playing with her. Another move.

So Katy made a move of her own.

“Maria. You remember her?”

“For sure. When you brought up asking for help I was wondering where she was. I absolutely adored her mask. Wish I had the chance to talk with her about it.”

“You’ll have to hold your peace on that a little longer. We’re not exactly on speaking terms anymore.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“And by not exactly, you mean not at all?”

“Yeah,” Katy said, hating that she had to tip her hand further.

“And why’s that?”

Katy looked into her coffee cup. About half empty.

“Couldn’t say for sure. You’d have to ask her that. But, what I can say is that Maria doesn’t want to see me either, and that would include you, by extension. So don’t bother her, she won’t entertain you, like how I have the bad habit of doing.”

“I could do with a guess?”

“Don’t forget. If you’re not going to take this seriously-”

“Don’t pull that card! So lame! That’s like saying the only way to win the game is to not play.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Uh, yeah, you are. It’s not fun if it ends up being one-sided. As long as there’s a game to play, each side has a chance to win. So I’m on one side-”

D indicated to her cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows. Half full now.

“-And you’re on the other.”

D indicated to Katy’s coffee.

“So let’s play. And don’t be lame.”

Katy had her fingers around her cup, then she set them flat on the table, then underneath the table itself, resting between her legs.

“I don’t want to guess because I don’t want to do that to her,” Katy said. “I still see her as a friend, even if she literally doesn’t want to see me. I don’t know. Maybe she hated what I was getting her involved in, maybe she hated how it escalated, or that it had to escalate. Maybe she didn’t want it as badly as I did.”

Katy clenched her hands, forming fists. Where D couldn’t see.

“All I can do is guess. She ghosted me, after that night. And she’s never been one to be so open about herself.”

“Is that what you wanted help for? If she might talk?”

Katy shook her head.

“You want me to keep an eye on her now?”

Katy shook her head again.

“Nothing like that, no. If she’s done, then she’s done.”

She tried keep her voice from shaking in saying that. She didn’t try hard enough. She wasn’t even sure if she believed it herself.

D was staring. It made Katy want to look away.

If that was juicy enough for D, she didn’t mention.

Was that enough to win that round?

“You cut your hair.”

Katy looked up. It took a second for her thoughts to catch up, too.

“You only just now noticed?”

D brought the cup back up to her lips, half-drinking the hot chocolate, half-eating the marshmallows.

Katy frowned, but there wasn’t any actual hard feelings. She touched her hair like a habit, fixing it where it needed to be fixed. At its new length, new to D anyways, her hair barely brushed her shoulders.

D copied her, flicking her own hair and fixing her bangs. Playing it up.

“Looks just like mine!”

“As if.”

“You know,” D said, sitting back now, hair twirling around a finger, “She kept her hair around that length, too.”

It was as though D had twisted a knife. The weapon already sticking out of her side.

Katy flinched. She knew that D had caught that, but she kept her cool, or tried to, brushing her hair one more time.

She took another sip from her drink, thinking to herself, wondering just what the hell was she trying to accomplish now.

“I miss her, you know.”

Katy’s attention snapped back to the booth she was in. D sitting across from her, tugging at her choker.

“That’s the third time you said that,” Katy said.

“You don’t feel the same way?”

“Depends on who you’re referring to.”

“You know exactly who I’m referring to.”

“Fourth time,” Katy said, “And no, I don’t.”

D smirked. A slight show of her gap in her teeth.

Katy felt that twist again.

In order to put her mind on something else, Katy started reaching for the bag beside her.

“Don’t.”

Katy looked up.

“Can we do this somewhere else?”

Katy pulled her hand away.

“Did you have somewhere else in mind?”

Katy was trying to avoid that twisted feeling a third time.

“I do. I want to show you something.”

This wasn’t going according to plan. Not that she really had a plan in mind, but…

That was the point. She had business she wanted to tend to. And she needed help.

“Fine. We’ll go your way. For now.”

Lifting the cup, tilting it so the bottom pointed to the ceiling, D finished the rest of her drink. Slamming it down, her mouth was full of chocolate and marshmallows. Katy was afraid that D would speak and spray all over her face… but she didn’t. She actually had the manners to talk without her mouth being full.

“Then let’s go! Finally, we can go outside!”

Katy would have said something, that they weren’t going out to play… but she didn’t. She knew how D worked, or rather how she didn’t want to see things as work. If she wanted D’s help, she’d have to make it interesting, keep her interest. That meant giving her a game to play.

And if she had to see it like that, too… fine.

Maybe that was what this was, the whole time. A game.

Katy finished her drink and joined D when she hopped out of the booth, heading out of the coffee shop, getting ready for round two.

She sang along on the drive there. A rap song, and she knew every word.

The bass rumbled through the black BMW. Her father’s car.

She had her hands loose on the wheel, speeding a good ten miles above the limit. But she was taking the back roads, with not a single vehicle around. No one around to impede her. So she hit the gas a little harder, heard the engine growl, and felt the slight curve of the street underneath her tires as she swerved.

At the top of her lungs, she rapped as the song moved into the hook.

Drank in my cup, I ain’t seeing straight, blood in my mouth, I ain’t seeing straight!

The engine went harder as ten became fifteen.

One mo’ shot to the head, I ain’t seeing straight, I might die tonight, but I’m feeling great!

The higher speeds the car reached, the more she reveled in the mean, couldn’t-give-less-of-a-fuck attitude of the song. She turned the volume up.

The bass boomed, and she could feel it in her chest. Part of the reason why she liked using this car. It had a great audio system, and it paired well with the music she liked. The beat thumped against the speakers, making the sound more rich and full. The lyrics, too, were more clear, and made it more fun to sing along to.

She could drive like this all night, if the road allowed, getting lost in it all, without a single worry.

But, there was somewhere she had to be. Things she had to keep in mind. Important things.

She thought about what her mom said.

As the car went around a bend, she let it slow. She turned the volume down to a more acceptable level, too.

Stay safe and keep an eye on your friends.

She’d do that, in fact she was off to do that at this very moment. After all, what would they do without her?

Probably wander off and get lost, that’s what.

Her thoughts were getting away from her. Right now she had to focus on this. That was her primary concern.

She was going to pull this off, it was all going to come together.

Almost at the end of the road. No one was around. She signaled a turn anyways.

She was almost there. And she couldn’t wait.

D had arrived first, pushing the heavy doors open with all her might.

Katy followed her inside.

There was an absence of sound, so oppressive that it stole her voice away. The halls and aisles, they were as hallowed as they were hollowed.

St. Elizabeth had been gutted and ripped apart, and it had been left to rot.

Wooden rows were made into splinters, seat cushions and pages from hymnals torn and turned to shreds. Glass shards littered the floor, most of it swept to the side, but a lot was not. There was just too much of a mess, here.

Bullets and their casings too. Katy and D watched their step.

They walked deeper into the church. Their footsteps carried through the building, echoing out, showing just how empty this place had become. Desolate. Abandoned by God, and even the Devil.

D led Katy to the front row, still intact, somehow. The altar up ahead was crushed to pieces, and Katy saw the crucifix, the arms and legs were removed from the body. As if they had been sliced off.

She noticed deep marks were gouged into the tile and stone, almost like claw marks. When Katy checked behind her, she saw similar damage done to the floor, wall, and ceiling of the church. A spiral of destruction.

Katy took a seat first, setting some stuff beside her. D plopped down onto a cushion on the floor.

When Katy finally spoke, it was a near whisper.

“I remember the last church I visited. St. Francis Xavier. That one got trashed too. But not nearly as bad as this one.”

“This one was pretty bad,” D said. From where she sat, she looked around the church, Katy watching how her eyes traced a path, making a circle. Or a spiral.

“May I ask how bad?”

Katy asked, wary, watching her still.

D’s gaze was elsewhere, and Katy noticed a shine in the corner of them. Just a smidge of water catching what little light was in here. She blinked it away.

Finally, D answered.

“Pretty bad.”

Katy nodded. She wouldn’t pry that much. Even D had her boundaries.

She wondered, then, just why D chose this location to reconvene. What did she have in mind?

Katy wanted to ask, but there were more important things to get to.

But, D herself was important, too. Someone she wanted to keep an eye on.

“We can go somewhere else,” Katy said, “If this isn’t going to work for you.”

D tugged at her choker, blinking.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I come here when I can, clean up here and there, but there’s just so much and… yeah.”

“I can see that.”

D kept looking around, gaze wandering. Katy let her take all the time she needed. She could be patient.

“I miss her.”

“You’ve already told me that.”

“But it’s true. The last time I saw her, it was here. The last time I could see her as a sister. Not as a plaything, but as someone to play with.”

“I told you what you were getting out of helping me that time. You knew the risks involved.”

“Of course I knew, but how could I have known that it’d come to this? I got more than what I asked for, and I had a lot of fun. But I also stood to lose a lot, too, and that scared me. Friends, people I started to see as family. Lawrence… and her. And then it happened, I did lose all those things, and now I’m here, and all I can do now is just… sweep the pieces away.”

“Are you saying you have regrets?”

“I’m too young to have regrets.” D leaned back, arms behind her, propping her up. “But I do wonder… just who the real winner is, in this little game of yours.”

Katy didn’t respond to that. She didn’t like where this was going.

D took in a deep breath, and exhaled hard.

“I’m curious, Big Sis, if I had to play with you again, what do I stand win?”

“Closure,” Katy answered, without missing a beat.

“Closure. Why? What more do you need?”

“I didn’t… She got away from me. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I wanted to see her, face to faceless. I wanted my eye on her.”

“For what? So you two could talk?”

“If it came down to it.”

“What would you have talked about?”

Katy answered without missing a beat. It was something that had been on her mind for a very long time.

“Why she ran away, why she left us all behind. Her friends, her mom. Maria. Me. Why didn’t she tell me. She was my best friend. I was supposed to look out for her, and she was supposed to have my back. And for her to just… fucking throw all of that away. I want to know why.”

D leaned to one side.

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

Katy missed that particular beat.

“She had better fucking be, because I’m not done with her yet. Even if it means dragging her out of Hell myself, even if it means becoming a monster. I will find her. And then, and only then, do I get to put her back there, and I leave her to burn.”

D’s gaze moved to Katy. There was a sadness in them, something that went beyond her age. Pity, too.

That angered her.

“How long has it been… No one’s heard anything since. And besides, who is to say the person you lost has been gone even before all this? You don’t know a thing about who you’re after.”

“You’ve kept me in the loop, you gave me updates.”

“I gave you what she was doing, you never cared about who she was. Did you ever? Or were you just wanting to satisfy your irresponsible sense of egoism?”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s say you really do get what you want, and she’s sitting right here in front of you, right now. I think you might disappointed with what you end up getting.”

“That will be for me to decide.”

D maintained that look of pity. A slight smirk. It aggravated her.

“Funny, we’ve been talking about the same person, yet two very different people. The one you’re looking for… Alexis Barnett? Sorry to say, but I never met her. I don’t know her. The one I did know, Wendy, she didn’t want to have anything to do with Alexis. She hated her, rejected her. She wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell you a single thing, she refused to look at that part of herself. And now they’re both gone.”

Katy crossed her arms.

Then, D moved her hand into her jacket again, pulling something out.

D continued.

“The last time I saw her was in here. I said… something, I don’t know, it was the wrong thing at the wrong time. But I saw it in her eyes. The very instant my Vivi winked out of existence. Everything that followed… There was no going back from that.”

D threw her hand out at Katy, something flying in her direction. Katy caught it.

A chess piece. A black queen.

“And there’s no point in trying to continue. The game is over, Big Sis. I suggest you give it up, too.”

Katy squeezed the piece in her hand, feeling it press into her palm. The sharp point of the queen’s crown could stab into her, if she put enough pressure. She was just shy of it.

“A simple no from the beginning would have sufficed.”

D shrugged.

“Bad habit.”

Katy glanced down at the stuff she had brought with her. The bags and files… things she didn’t have a chance to bring up and discuss, and D led her all the way here just to shut her down.

She clenched her jaw, teeth grinding together.

Giving it up… that was impossible. Even if it seemed easy, because everyone else had given up already. Maria was gone, Shiori had moved back to Japan, seemingly abandoning all hope of ever seeing her daughter again. Uncle J let himself deteriorate, close to meeting her father, and her own mother taken the first steps in a backslide… Everyone was giving up, everyone was acting like this was normal.

She couldn’t accept that.

It was all so…

D asked her, sudden, “Do you know what your vice is?”

“And what is that?”

“Frustration.”

Katy almost laughed. She could hardly believe how this was going now.

“Is that so?”

“That’s my assessment.”

Katy leaned back into her seat, arms still crossed.

She looked at the broken cross at the altar, she looked at the confessional past that, busted and collapsed in different places.

Katy thought about what D said.

“The only thing free in life… I bet he told her that, I bet she believed him.”

“And you?”

“It’s hardly free. In fact it cost me everything. But I’m willing to pay that price again.”

D reached for her choker again, tugging at it.

“Then I’m sorry I can’t help you a second time around.”

“I’m sorry too. I guess you have changed.”

“And you stayed the same.”

Katy opened her mouth.

By imposing too great a responsibility, or rather, all responsibility, on yourself, you crush yourself!

Katy and D both turned around.

The doors of the church were being thrown wide open, blinding daylight punching through the oppressive dark they were sitting in.

A long figure cut a hole in the light, standing with their arms out. They walked, holding that pose, trying to make their entrance more grand.

As they progressed down the aisle, more joined them, stepping into the church. From the outlines, Katy could see helmets. Biker helmets.

They filed out into the different rows, or where the rows would be, if the church hadn’t been made into temple ruins instead. They stood in position. Every row the first figure passed, was another row the bikers filled up with their numbers.

Katy stared at Styx as he and his gang infiltrated, intruding on her plans. What little plans she had left now.

They marched towards Katy and D, then to Katy herself.

Her heart pounded heavy as he hopped and spun and landed in the seat next to Katy. He crossed one leg over the other, and put one arm around her.

She couldn’t look at him anymore. It was too sudden. She tried to look at D, who as surprised as she was. Or was that another play as well?

Styx spoke close to her ear.

“An important lesson, a hard one to learn. Some manage to be lucky, like you and I…”

With a bony finger, he gestured between them.

“And other’s, well, they do get crushed.”

Styx then pointed ahead, to the ruined crucifix, the altar underneath.

“What the heck are you doing here?”

D asked when Katy could not.

Styx didn’t look at her, but he did answer.

“Just happened to be in your area, so I swung by to thank you all for… thank you, just, thank you.”

Styx was nodding, bobbing his head, eyes closed, whispering to himself. It was like he was crying. Katy was unsure of what to make of anything, anymore.

“Thank you, truly, because I would have never been able to bear witness to such a beautiful punchline if it hadn’t been for your setup. I would have never been able to do it on my own, seems like I still have some things to learn in my old age.”

Katy could feel the warmth from his arm, wrapped around the back of her neck. Like a serpent. She clutched the chess piece, feeling its sharpness dig into her skin.

“Mister and Mrs. Carter would like to express their gratitude as well. Because of you, everything went splendidly. Because of you, we were able to scale down our operations in light of the recent and increased attention on Stephenville. Because of you, we were able to develop an infrastructure that allowed us to continue at a sufficient level to this day. Because of you, I was able to laugh louder than I ever had in years. Because of Victor, because of John Cruz, because of Alma, because of Dong-Yul, because of the Thompson Act, because of you.”

“Don’t me throw me in with them,” Katy said, “You wolves thinned the herd yourselves.”

“No no, you did your part, looking after Blueballs, keeping tabs, with her being your eyes and ears.”

Styx pointed to D, now. D squirmed.

“And all that was left for me to do was nudge things here and there for the desired effect. My most perfect joke. What a lovely fool, I think I’ll miss her too.”

Katy was losing what little patience she had left. And she thought she had enough to spare.

“If you’re just here to sing your praises, then there. You’re welcome. You can leave now.”

The arm around her neck tightened in its grip. Katy shuddered. An instant regret.

Non, noir comme du jais, non. You see, you don’t have just my thanks, but my services as well. If you are up to the offer.”

Katy traded a look with D. Nothing.

“What services?”

Styx indicated to the bag beside Katy. “Looks like you have a lot to unpack, and D here refused to answer the call. All I’m saying is, you can ring me. Ring ring.”

Katy felt a prickling sensation, creeping up her spine. She wanted to move, but she couldn’t, knowing how dangerous someone like Styx was. This was a game she wanted to get out of.

“How did you even…”

“Open it. Show me.”

She briefly considered any other potential options. She squeeze the chess piece again.

Could she even refuse someone like Styx? She had seen his work before, she had seen how it lost her a father.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake as him. Or her. Styx wasn’t one to be underestimated.

Katy reached for the bag, setting it in her lap. With Styx’s wide stare on her, she pulled at the zipper.

Files, documents, photos. Notebooks. Even hard drives upon hard drives of stored information. Katy sifted through the work.

“This is everything Natalie Beckham and Oliver Morgan left behind. You remember them? Of fucking course, you had her kill them too. Every scribbled note, every recording, every bit of data, every interview, it’s all here.”

“Yes, the thought of that crossed my mind. Those two… ever the revenants, living on through their work.”

Katy considered that. Maybe revenant was the right word for all of this.

She sifted through the notes in front of her When she spoke again, she was thinking aloud.

“We warned them, that they would be targeted. And they’re not fools, or maybe they were in the end, but they had enough experience to know that themselves. They wouldn’t need us to tell them that the invitations to John Cruz’s event was a trap, but they went anyways. And we tried to mitigate things on our end, so they wouldn’t get killed.”

“We did,” D said, “I tried.”

“But they went anyways, and they got killed. And they left me with all of… this.”

Katy flipped through a page, and something caught her eye.

She pulled out that particular piece of paper, and her heart thumped. Almost as hard as the moment she learned that her father had passed away. Almost.

“Everything they had on her.”

Alexis Barnett’s smiling face. Wide, genuine, free. Not a care in the world. It haunted Katy, it taunted her. Made her all the more frustrated.

The queen stabbed at her even harder.

“I don’t know why, but they left me with the burden of the truth, as they knew it. But there’s still… there’s still glaring holes, and I need help filling them in.”

“You need help,” Styx said, “And I’m offering my wide-reaching tentacles.”

“You?” Despite her fear, Katy had to suppress the urge to scoff. “The last thing I need is to be used in another setup, or be made into your next punchline. Thanks, Styx, but no fucking thanks.”

Styx cackled. With him being so close, it startled her.

“You’re good, you really are. Smart. Just like your father.”

That fear turned into something much colder. Sharper.

She was already close, but then she moved even closer, past the leather jacket, past bare skin, and between the ribs.

Katy stabbed into Styx the pointed chess piece.

A shock ran throughout the entire church. Through D, through Katy, through the rows and rows of Ferrymen behind her.

The only one who wasn’t shocked was Styx himself. A low chuckle ran through him instead.

He pulled back, taking his arm off of Katy. He used it to pull back his jacket, looking down. He wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath, so thin lines of blood were free the trickle down from the wound. The base of the queen was barely sticking out. Katy had pressed in, and pressed in hard.

Styx kept chuckling.

Katy couldn’t bear to hear more of it. More of Styx, more of D, more of this sick, fucked up world.

“I am nothing like him. He, who made it his fucking business to try and shape this city, this world, into his own image. Fuck that. I want to burn this shit to the ground. This world, and the other one that’s out there, the one that stole Alexis Barnett from me and turned her into… something else entirely. It’s in the shadows, and I want to take a torch to that fucking world and set it alight.”

And then she added, just to hear herself say it, “And I’m nothing like her either.”

Styx was laughing harder now.

Frustrated, Katy got out of her chair, collecting the files that had spilled over during her sudden outburst.

She thought how useless this was, how pointless. Like she was being mocked for even trying to focus on the most important things.

She hated her old self, she rejected them. She didn’t even want to consider that past person and those past thoughts as herself, anymore. To think she had let herself fall into that trap, once before. To be like everyone else. To have given up and just be normal. It was pitiful. And she wasn’t about to make that mistake twice.

She gathered her things and got prepared, she looked at D. Her little-

No.

Katy spoke to her.

“I’ll find her, and with her the truth. I’ll fill in the blanks, and I’ll get it down the very letter. This is your last chance, D. Grow up.”

As she feared, D shook her head.

Adieu, Katy.”

Lesson learned. She’d do it herself.

Then she turned, running now, running away.

Leaving them all behind, Katy pushed the doors open, the light momentarily blinding her.

She used the moonlight to guide where she’d park. Avoid the lamppost, since they were too direct. The moon was a softer source, she could sit in the shadows and become imperceptible, especially from a good distance. The black paint of the car helped, too, blending in with the dark.

Those were the details she had to think about. Important details. She didn’t want to make it too obvious, just be careful, just to be safe.

See Mom? Just as you asked.

She smiled to herself.

Finding a decent spot, in a corner by some shrubbery, she moved the car into position and set it to park.

Turning the music down all the way, she took out her phone and sent out a text. Not to the group chat, and not to Maria either. Someone else.

Setting her phone down, the only thing left for her to do was wait. And she couldn’t wait.

Ugh, I am so ready to leave.

Tapping her foot, shaking her leg, looking out from across where she had parked.

Such a slowpoke.

She groaned, already impatient. She wanted to turn her music back up, but she felt that might jinx things somehow. That she might attract some unwanted attention, that she might get caught. Better to play it safe.

To pass the time, she went through everything in her head one more time. Just to make sure she had everything in order, so tonight would go perfect.

She put to mind her own business.

Drinks? Got that covered. There’s gonna be more there too. Music? Got that covered too. Everybody’s got their invites… Him? Check. And her? Waiting on this bitch to hurry up and get in here.

She checked herself in the rearview mirror. And again.

Hell yeah. This is gonna be great.

More than great. Perfect.

She really couldn’t wait.

Then, before her patience could wear any thinner, she saw her.

Running across the length of the parking lot, staying close to the shadows, only the faintest of glimmers falling on one side of her body. A fitting sweater, and… was that a new skirt? It looked cute on her.

Her long hair ran free in the light wind. She raised a hand to fix it, then waved in the direction of the car.

The queen herself.

Hurrying over, the passenger side opened, and she hopped in.

“Present,” Alexis said.

“You definitely look like one, birthday girl, should have put a bow on you too.”

“Shut up, we’re still a few hours out from that.”

“Shit, what time is it?”

Alexis raised her hand again, pulling back a sleeve. A black watch adorned the wrist. A simple and sleek design, the face was blank, no numbers or markings, with only thin gold lines used to mark the time.

“Three hours until the big day,” Alexis said.

“I’m liking that watch, early birthday gift?”

“Yeah, my mom couldn’t wait until tomorrow, so she gave it to me before I went to school.”

“That is so sweet. But hey, speaking of…”

“It’s cool. She’s still at work. I think she wanted to have dinner with me tonight, but we should be good.”

“And you’re certain she won’t be mad at you for skipping?”

Alexis paused for a beat.

“Of course she’ll be mad, but with how late it is already, I’m more certain that she’d rather just go straight to bed when she does get home. She probably won’t notice that I’ve been out, and we can just have dinner over the weekend.”

She put the car in drive. “If you say so.”

“We’ll be fine. I’m not missing this party for the world.”

They both smiled.

“Not to hype you up or anything, but I pulled out all the stops so this night would go perfect. Maria’s scoping out Braham Barn as we speak, she’s got the cake already, and a good number of your volleyball friends are on route right now. Not to mention all the college kids that’ll be there just because it’s the weekend. It will be lit.”

“If that was you trying to temper my expectations, then you did a terrible job.”

“I’ll do you one worse then. He is going to be there.”

“He who?”

“You know who.”

Even in the dark, she could see Alexis start to blush.

“Oh fuck, Katy, you didn’t.”

“I so did.”

“No, that’s it. I’m getting out of here. I’m going home.”

She peeled out of the parking spot. Tires squealing.

“No way, Lexi,” she said. “Brandon will be there, you will be there, and you two will hit it off and it is going to be-”

“Perfect, I know,” Alexis said, a nervous smile on her face.

“Then get yourself together, Lexi, this is all for you. So, are you ready to go in there and party your ass off or not?”

The car hit the road, speeding off. She glanced at her best friend.

Alexis took a deep breath, as though she was about to dive head first into something crazy. Because she was, absolutely, but she wouldn’t be alone. There would always be someone watching over her, keeping an eye on her, reading her.

But for now, she was going to have some fucking fun.

“Yeah,” Alexis said, nodding, smiling wider. “I’m ready. Let’s give them hell!”

Quit                                                           Continue

 

Interlude – Alexis

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The girl, lying there at the crossroads, bloody and broken, close to dying a dog’s death, stared up with a foggy gaze at the man in grey who stood above her. Blinking once, twice, eyes starting to glaze over. A miserable display, but there wasn’t much left for her to show.

No name, no self, not even any limbs to affect the world around her.

Not much left at all.

“You…” the girl said, or breathed, rather. A repeat of what she had just heard, or acknowledging the man in grey? Even the girl didn’t know for sure, she was losing her focus, her grasp on things.

The man in grey made a face. The girl couldn’t guess on what it conveyed.

He didn’t respond, not right away, not with words. He instead removed something from his coat pocket, a uniform with a neutral color. A device.

Clicking a button at the top, a light glowed, and he held it to the girl’s face. Her eyes, shining the light right into them.

The girl winced, blinking some more, but not closing her eyes. She was still in a daze.

“You can still see? That does not surprise me but it does… intrigue me.”

The man in grey spoke with a slight accent, but the girl couldn’t pin down where it might have come from. He continued to move the light from one eye to the other, examining her, studying her.

“Pupils respond accordingly, breathing has gone stable, infection rate is… You have become quite the host, haven’t you? The Red Queen has found quite the crown in you.”

She couldn’t understand these words, and she didn’t care to understand them. The only meaning she got out of them was fear. The fear. What she couldn’t understand, she had to instead be afraid of. A way of survival, preservation. And somewhere, deep into the very core of her being, still kicked and screamed as if there was a chance.

That instinct bubbled up within her, rising to the surface, manifesting as squirms and wriggles. Writhing in pain and using that sensation to further more movements, however limited.

She’d swim in that pain, even drown in it, if it meant getting to live a little longer.

But she couldn’t understand why she was fighting so hard, even now, and that scared her even more.

To swim in a circle. A spiral.

The man in grey clicked away the light, and returned it to his coat pocket.

“No no, we can’t have that. You see, it took all the running you could do, just to keep in the same place. Do you know that one? So the queen and the crown will be coming with us.”

That only made the girl swim harder.

“I don’t want to, I don’t want to. I want to go home, I want to go home! It’s almost midnight, she’s waiting for me, at home. Mother, my mother. I need to see her. Home. Need to see her. Waiting and waiting. Should have never went outside. Shit, I knew it. I knew it, shit… shit…”

She kept on until she was incoherent, muttering words that made sense to her and only her. Until they were almost like incantations to her, binding her mind into some sort of spell. Hypnotizing.

Standing straight, the man in grey continued to look down at the girl. At her efforts.

“Nolla.”

The Shape beside him moved in response. If that was an order or a name, the girl didn’t know.

Stepping in close, aising that weapon again, aiming it deliberately above her heart.

The girl froze, a chill running through her blood.

“You mustn’t make this so difficult,” the man in grey said, “For me, but especially for yourself.”

She snarled.

“Dignity, right?”

Then she stopped, lying flat again on the concrete.

“Shit…”

Her eyes started to well again.

Standing above her, the two lost their definite shapes as the tears fell like rain. She knew how terrible she looked, how ugly she felt, but this was beyond her, now. She had lost all control of the situation, and her grasp on herself was loosening as well. Falling like rain, falling to pieces.

It was all too much to bear.

She continued to sob, as if that meant something. She wept and mourned her own uselessness, wishing she could abandon it and herself, as she had always done before, when things have proved to be too difficult. To fragment, discard, and disassociate.

But she could no longer. Not here. Not when she was at the end of all roads, to the point that they began to intersect and weave and cross into one another, there was nowhere else for her to go.

Unable to run, unable to hide.

No more turning back.

The man in grey answered what truly was the girl’s sad display.

Wunderkind, there really is no need to fret. If you wish to see your mother again, then you are quite in luck after all.”

Hearing that enough to calm her for a moment. But only for a moment.

“Wha… what?”

The man in the grey nodded.

“Yes. She would be pleased to see you, I’d imagine. And, speaking strictly for myself, I know I am pleased to finally meet with you. Nolla tries not to show it too much, but a game of chase wouldn’t have lasted this long if there wasn’t any enjoyment to be had.”

The first form the girl had encountered, the Shape, Nolla, remained as still as ever. Still silent, still unmoving, and still seemingly without feeling.

The girl tried to take in a deep breath, but the air she sucked in was shaky, and was exhaled as a wheeze. She hiccuped again.

“Are you… calling this… a game?”

She asked, almost in disbelief.

“I am not trying to call this anything, little one, except, perhaps, a family reunion.”

“A… family…”

The girl didn’t finish that thought. Or couldn’t. Either way, it didn’t really matter.

“It may be a more… sentimental way of putting it, but I am a man of sentiment, so you will have to forgive me that. I hope you will.”

“I don’t understand,” the girl said, which was beginning to sound like a mantra. Or maybe it always was one. Either way, it didn’t really matter. Not anymore.

“That’s quite alright. You will in due time. I suppose we can make do with some informal introductions, since we will have to get a move on.”

The man in grey gestured to the Shape beside him, still aiming that thing squarely above the girl’s heart, which was beating at a increasingly rushed beat by the minute.

“This is Nolla, your… half-sibling. Yes, that’s about right. As for me, well, there’s not much to say about me at all. Ein Landarzt, perhaps, but you may refer to me as… your grandfather.”

The man in grey… Grandfather.

“Grandfather,” the girl said, the word slathered with as much venom and blood as she could spit, some of it actually dripping down her face, “You have no fucking idea how much shit you put me through…”

Various images came to her, flashing past her eyes. All the pain, all the hardship, the misfortune that was enough to fill over a dozen novels, all of them filled with pages and pages of torment and misery. If there was any happiness it was but a fleeting moment, a glimmer of light gliding across the surface of a waterfall that would only ever go in one direction. That sun and that water, they were two very physical, very separate things, and their meeting was only a transient experience.

This chase between a cat and a mouse…

Losing her gang and the few meaningful connections she had there…

Losing the life of a child she made herself responsible for in a demented roadtrip across a hellish landscape…

Losing her very self in a too-bright hallway, one of many steps in a spiral descent into destruction…

Grappling with her sense of purpose and identity in a pursuit of vengeance…

Losing her mind in place where she thought she would have been the most safe, a school…

Losing her best friend’s father…

Throwing her life and those orbiting it into chaos for some misguided sense of justice…

Hiding herself behind a mask, from a world which she knew would hate her, and did…

Seven days in Hell. Seven very long days.

That hour before midnight, at a time when she wasn’t even supposed to be out.

It shouldn’t have been like this.

But also…

It seems like it was always going to be like this, from the start.

A cycle.

“This is all your fucking fault,” the girl said, seething, but also knowing just how wrong she was.

Grandfather shook his head.

“While I am sympathetic to your situation, as anyone would and should be, I unfortunately cannot assume any responsibility to what you have done to yourself. I mean, look at you, you’re so thin. A shame to see a grandchild of mine having starved themselves to such a state. Meat, you know, all things have meat on their bones, why didn’t you take any?”

The girl only stared, hard, with hatred. For both herself, her grandfather, then that vision exploding to the world at large.

Grandfather only continued. He shrugged.

“Though, as someone who should, in theory, assume a parental role of some capacity, I do feel as if some blame can be shifted over to me. My apologies, sincerely.”

The girl was as silent as Nolla, now. She tried not to think of it as some shared trait between… between half-siblings.

“Because the truth is I have been watching you for quite some time. It was hard not to, considering how busy and very public you have been. I desperately wanted to meet with you and have you brought back as well, but as I mentioned, the spotlight stayed on you, and it was much too bright. So I waited. And now, it seems to have dimmed enough.”

Grandfather gestured to the night sky, hands together. There was a certain… meaning to it. Like a prayer.

“And now, here we are. I am sorry that it took me so long.”

Then, Grandfather gestured again.

Nolla didn’t move, their arm still frozen in place, despite holding something that looked to be rather heavy. It was the weapon that moved. Spiraling, the black tendrils charging with energy, humming and even crackling. The girl imagined it laughing at her.

Speaking over the low buzzing of the instrument, the plaything.

“Oh, and how inconsiderate of me. Enkelkind, I never got your name.”

“Name?”

The girl raised her head, brief, before dropping it again. Tired.

“Yes, little one, your name.”

Those various images hadn’t stopped running through her mind. Endless and repeating, looping, like a snake eating its own tail.

They repeated until they seemed real and corporeal, something she could retreat into. So she did. For she had nowhere else to go.

She searched for her answer there.

“My name is…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

been

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

before…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fields of dried vegetation, swaying in a light wind that also brushed against her face and hair. A dirt path that seemingly stretched forever.

The girl walked along this path. She didn’t care how long it would take her until she got to the end, or if there even was one. She walked.

A feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her heartbeat was steady. She couldn’t quite name it.

But she also felt as though she could figure that out if she kept walking.

So she did just that. She kept walking.

It was nighttime. She was fine with that. She was used to the dark.

She walked for long time.

Her perception of time seemed to have dulled, or maybe that particular sense had left her forever. She was fine with that too.

She kept walking.

The girl listened to the bristling leaves, the dirt shuffling underneath her feet as she dragged them slightly. The fields went by, she watched the scenery pass. Listlessly.

To the key of this, she listened.

Eventually, or maybe instantly, the girl wasn’t sure of which, the girl arrived at the end, because all things had one after all. There would be no exception here. Not for her, and certainly not for this.

At the end of the dirt path was a house. Or a mansion, to be more specific.

Imposing and harrowing, yet also hollow, a husk of an old life. One full of pain and sin and violations. All that was left for it now was to be left alone and die and decay.

She wasn’t sure if she had been walking to this place, or returning to it.

Either way, it was the perfect place to rest.

The girl let herself in.

The interior of the mansion appeared to be in better shape than what she saw outside. Not that it surprised her, but it wasn’t what she had expected. She expected old, dusty furniture, wallpaper peeling off the walls, faded colors and a musky smell, like old wet wood. Being inside now, she saw none of that. The opposite, in fact, was true. The place was clean.

Letting herself deeper into the mansion, she had a look around. There wasn’t anyone else present, and it was quiet. It was serene, actually, just having a chance to walk through the area and not be concerned with anything else. A certain… tension, that would usually hold a tight grip on her heart, but in this instance, it wasn’t there.

Strange. She wasn’t used to that.

Finding herself in a large common room, she immediately realized that she wasn’t alone after all.

Sitting by themselves, on a couch at the other side of the room. The light in here was limited, only a few stray beams, but the girl could see well enough. Leaning on one side, eyes closed, head back, they were asleep. Quiet, even calm.

Drawn like a magnet, the girl crossed the space without really thinking about what she was doing, or about to do. She didn’t want to disturb them from their slumber, but something about them… allured her.

About halfway, before the girl could ever reach out and touch them, they stirred. The girl stopped.

They got up on their own, waking, rubbing at an eye and scratching under their chin. They yawned, a graceless and inconsiderate sound, but they didn’t seem to know that they had to consider anyone else at all.

Pushing their hair away from their face, the girl confirmed that they were a she. Stirring some more, yawning again, the other girl blinked until she could properly take in her surroundings. It didn’t take long for her to notice that she wasn’t alone, herself.

About to stretch, she stopped, then covering her open mouth with a hand. Eyes darting away, she looked embarrassed. The first girl couldn’t help but feel endeared by it, which made her share in that embarrassment as well.

Then she blurted out a greeting.

“Hi!”

They stared at each other.

The first girl wanted to cover her open mouth too, but more just slap herself. She hated how stupid she sounded.

They stared at each other for some time.

It was the second girl who broke the silence. Her light bout of laughter filled the home. Tinged with nervousness, but she laughed anyways.

“Hi!” the second girl said back, still struggling to calm back down. She covered her face more.

Which only made the first girl more aware of herself, standing there, feeling like an idiot, because she felt that she probably was one, but it was made much more clear to her now.

“Can I at least take a seat?” the first girl asked.

Between those fits of laughter, the second girl patted the cushion next to her.

Still unsure of herself, but the first girl moved despite that. Taking a seat next to her companion.

The second girl finally managed to put her fluttered laughs in check, and the silence returned. But it was different silence. There was a new note to it. Somehow.

“Hi,” the first girl said, giving it another shot. Came out less awkward this time.

She got a nod in response. “Hi.”

Another pause. A beat.

“Sorry for waking you.”

“No you’re good, I probably shouldn’t have been sleeping for that long anyways. Uh, do you have a name?”

Odd, the first girl felt as if she had already been asked that. But here, in this place, with her, without any of the usual tension that gripped her, she found that she could answer that question, despite some initial consideration.

“It’s, uh, it’s V.”

“V?”

“Like the letter?”

“Is that like a nickname? Who names themselves after just a letter?”

V folded her arms, a bit annoyed at that.

“Well, there’s Wendy.”

“There you go, that’s a pretty name.”

V… Wendy unfolded her arms.

“I’d ask you yours, but I think I already know.”

The second girl nodded, slow, and when she did answer there was a lot less consideration for it.

“Alexis.”

The name hit her like a truck, but Wendy remained sitting, back straight. She had braced for that impact.

Wendy breathed.

“Well, Alexis, I’ve run out of lies to tell, so I’ll just come out and say it. We’re fucked.”

Alexis frowned.

“You couldn’t have put it some other way?”

“There is no other way to put it. We are fucked.”

Alexis grimaced at every utterance of that word. She held up a hand.

“Got it. Thanks.”

Seeing her here, being with her, it was almost overwhelming. No, not almost. It was.

She had braced for it, but that impact still hit hard.

Dots hit her lap, wet. Without realizing it, while she spoke to her, Wendy had been crying.

Her hands reached out, until they found firm shoulders. Wendy dropped her head down, and continued to weep.

“I am so… sorry…” Wendy said between bursts of sobs, “I thought I could be better than you… I thought I would have been able to surpass you if I just threw you away… But, in the end, I just made it all worse. I fucked it all up!”

In contrast to Alexis, Wendy was shaking, bawling hard at her own self-loathing. It was all too much to bear.

Then something touched her face. Wendy flinched.

Wiping away the tears, thumbing just underneath her eyes, Wendy felt her cheeks go dry. Fingers worked in holding and helping her, tender.

When Alexis spoke, it was with a certain sageness. A reserved wisdom.

“It’s okay, Wendy, it really is. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

“But, but…”

“But nothing. You did an amazing job, taking care of things while I was asleep here. You protected me, took all the heat when I wasn’t able to. You know, I should be the one apologizing, I put you to all that and you never asked for it. It’s my fault.”

Wendy shook her head, and kept shaking. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to be told that.

“That’s not true, it isn’t. I should have… I should have been better, I should have done more… I should have asked for help…”

“A lot of shoulds,” Alexis said, “But that’s kind of the conceit, isn’t it? You always find an easier way around things once you get a chance to look back and see how you went through it the first time… that was a clunky way of putting it, I’m sorry.”

Wendy shook her head again, nuzzling herself into her counterpart’s shoulder now.

“Don’t be, I know what you mean. Hindsight is a bitch.”

Alexis laughed a little.

“That’s it.”

They stayed there for what felt like the better part of an hour, but time was a forgone concept, now. It didn’t matter. Wendy even had the faintest of hopes that they could stay like this forever.

That hope was soon dashed, however, when she felt the slightest of nudges, indicating to straighten herself back up. Wendy did so, blinking away more tears.

Alexis still had her hands on Wendy, to wipe her eyes.

“You’re so much stronger than you think, Wendy, I’m sure you’ve been told this?”

“If I have, I don’t remember.”

“Come on, there was that… what was her name? Sarah?”

Wendy felt her cheeks go warm. She was scared that Alexis might feel that too.

“Her? Please, I don’t even know what that was.”

“That was real, Wendy, that was yours. I can’t take that from you.”

Wendy tilted her head, leaning more into one Alexis’ palms.

“But if you do want to get into it… what have you done, Wendy?”

Closing her eyes, Wendy thought about it. They came to her like dreams. And she spoke of them.

“What have I done? I left home. Your home, our home, I left it behind so I could try and make my own name for myself, my own sense of self. I found others, we joined together and made a gang. D, Lawrence, and yeah, Sarah. We took over a territory, and I wanted to make it in my image. But I still had to figure out what that image was. Who I wanted to be, that kind of person… I still had a lot to figure out.”

Taking in everything, listening with intent, Alexis closed her eyes for a beat, and then opened them again.

“Okay, and what have you failed to do?”

Eyes closing again, Wendy thought about that too. They came to her like nightmares. Her voice trembled.

“What have I failed to do? I took too long, I stalled. I didn’t go about things a certain way, or I deliberately avoided looking at certain things. Who I really was, what was inside… our true nature, our shared heritage. I lied and ignored it because I didn’t want it to affect me, even though I relied on its power. But that type of thing doesn’t just go away, and it threatened to swallow me up, and it even did, on several occasions. Chewed me up and spat me out, and I still turned a blind eye to it. In the end, that made me lose sight of myself.”

“You’re not defined by what’s inside anymore than I am,” Alexis told Wendy, “But yeah, I suppose that does hold some importance, doesn’t it? We should have been…  a lot more diligent, in that respect.”

It was Wendy’s turn to laugh.

“Yeah, we should have.”

“A lot of shoulds.”

Wendy raised her hands, holding Alexis by the wrist. She didn’t want Alexis to pull away.

Then they looked at each other, deep within each other’s eyes. A shared link. A newfound connection.

“I don’t want to disappear,” Wendy said. Admitting it. Saying it out of nowhere but she meant every bit of it. “I thought I did, but I really… really don’t. I’m so scared. I don’t want all my effort to go to waste.”

“I know,” Alexis said, a warm tone, a hint of melancholy. “I’m in the same boat as you.”

“And that boat is sinking,” Wendy said.

“I know,” Alexis said again. “But that’s just how it goes. We take, and we get taken from. Drink, and be drained. Rinse and repeat until it’s over, and then it starts all over again. But… it wasn’t all bad. Some good things happened too. Like-”

“I know,” Wendy said for herself. “Like kicking butt in paintball?”

“Or playing games with D?”

“Jumping over rooftops?”

Alexis smiled.

“I was going to say the same thing.”

“Beat you to it,” Wendy said, smiling now too.

It was easy to sit here in this moment and be absorbed in it, the experience sublime. Forever, to stay in here and never venture out there again. Here, things seemed actually okay, and that was the greatest surprise.

Then, what little light was in this space vanished, winked out of existence. Something outside interfered, as if to eclipse this moment.

Wendy watched Alexis.

Her smile dropped, her lips forming a line. Stoic.

She had a feeling on what was about to happen. If time mattered here, it would have been designated as midnight.

Moving in conjunction, in consideration with one another, Wendy and Alexis both set their arms down. But their hands remained clasped together, fingers intertwined.

“Your hands are cold,” Wendy said.

“Mom always told me that. Do you remember?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Another beat. There was already so many.

Alexis got up from the couch.

Wendy refused to let her go.

“But I have to,” Alexis said. Her eyes weren’t on Wendy anymore, instead to the door, on the other side of the space. To the outside.

“Don’t,” Wendy said. She pleaded. “Stay here. Alexis. Please. You can go back to sleep.”

Alexis shook her head, hair swaying slightly.

Wendy continued, begging now.

“I don’t want to…”

Her voice broke.

Alexis’ did, but she spoke anyways.

“I know you don’t. But you… we won’t. At least, I don’t think so. Not for some time. Eventually, at the very, very end, we all become ash, picked up by the wind. To dust we shall return. In time we’ll all be forgotten, but that’s okay. In our time, our time, we did what we could, we affected the world around us. We gave it our all. We fucking tried. You can’t say that we didn’t, right?”

“Right,” Wendy said.

“It was all too much to bear, huh? But I didn’t have to do it by myself. I owe you so much, Wendy.”

“Isn’t that what this is still?”

Alexis shrugged. And slight, silly laugh.

“Oh well. When you say it, you become it.”

“A monster?” Wendy suggested.

“I was going to say fool.”

“Close enough.”

Alexis looked from Wendy to the door, again, and again. Now it was her turn to have tears in her eyes.

“I’m glad I got to talk with you. It was sad, but it was sweet too.”

Still sitting on the couch, Wendy tried to come up with something else to say. Anything, to make her stay a little longer.

“I want… fuck… now-”

But all words were failing her. At this critical moment.

Alexis took the lead again. Wendy let her go.

Raising a hand, raising her index and middle fingers, Alexis waved.

“V for victory?” Alexis asked, as if to make sure.

Mustering the last of her courage, Wendy returned to Alexis the same gesture. The same symbol.

“Peace,” Wendy said. She could tell Alexis liked that answer.

There was nothing else to say. Nothing else that could be said.

Alexis set her hand down, and turned. She started walking, heading to the door.

“Funny…” she then added, like an afterthought.

“What?”

“We never did learn how to drive.”

Wendy tilted her head, and when she did, she regretted it, as a sudden weariness began to overtake her. Or, there was a chance it had been there the entire time, and she was finally allowing herself to submit to it. She leaned more into the couch.

“And you never learned how dangerous it is to walk alone at night!”

Her final protest.

It was met with a laugh.

“Yup, I never learn!”

Then Alexis was out the door, passing that threshold, her image blending into the dark, dissipating.

And then she was gone.

Wendy blinked, and when she did, she regretted it, as her eyes were steadily becoming heavier and heavier. Head too. Entire body.

She leaned over all the way, until she had fallen on the couch, taking the place of the girl who was just here moments ago. Sleeping.

And now it was her turn to sleep.

Wendy let her eyes close shut, and then she dreamed dreams, until she drifted like ash, and returned to the dust.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

be

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

back

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

again…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She found her answer.

“Alexis… My name is Alexis.”

The man in grey, the one who called himself grandfather, took in that answer and acknowledged it.

“Alexis… do you know what that name means?”

“I don’t.”

“It has its origins from Greece. From the Greek alexo, meaning to defend, or to help.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Do you believe that name to suit you? Names are very important, if you did not know.”

“I do,” Alexis said, “But I couldn’t say for sure, if that name really suits me. I could barely defend or help anyone, much less myself.”

She breathed.

“But I’ll wear that name. I never chose it… it was given to me, but I’ll wear it all the same. I’ll shoulder the burden… all I have are my shoulders anyways. I won’t draw up a blank anymore, and I won’t be reduced to a letter. I’m done playing make believe. This isn’t a game anymore.”

Grandfather nodded, as though he understood, but she couldn’t give a damn whether or not he did. Those words were never meant for him, Alexis knew. This was never about him.

The tears had stopped falling. She had stopped crying some time ago, but she had been made into such a mess that it was hard to tell the difference. Red as an apple. But that was fine. She accepted that unsightly version of herself, too.

Grandfather then righted himself, glancing sideways to Nolla.

“Yes, I agree. Once the children are done playing they must return to home. And your mother is terribly sick and deathly worried about you. I am certain that, once you two are reunited, she will start to feel much better. All because of you.”

Alexis kept silent.

Still looking at the half-sibling, Grandfather tilted his head towards Alexis.

“Now if you please, let us begin the journey back.”

Nolla’s only indication that the order was recognized was the spiraling of the weapon, the tendrils moving into place again.

Over the humming, she heard a faint whisper, a dreamlike murmur before falling completely into a slumber.

To die will be an awfully big adventure.

It would be, and it had been.

Alexis moved.

Rolling onto her stomach in what she guessed to be the last second, she just narrowly dodged the impact that had been deliberately aimed for her heart. Instead it clipped her in the back, obliterating her shoulder blades.

It burned her, but she was numb to the pain now. Or rather, it was inconsequential to her. This was temporary, it would soon be over.

She didn’t see Grandfather’s reaction, but she did hear it.

“Nolla! You aim right or there is no going back!”

No going back.

Exactly right.

Alexis heard that instance again, that thin static before the thunder. It was about to boom again.

She propped herself up with her half-arm, her half-leg, readying herself.

Her back to the weapon, she knew it was spiraling again, trying to hit a specific piece of Alexis. Maybe Nolla could get a clean shot from the back. Alexis wouldn’t let Nolla get that chance.

Her eyes were wide open now. Level, focused.

Then she spun around, pushing herself up with that ruined arm and leg. Even with those limbs, she still had some significant strength stored within them.

Enough to send her entire body flying.

It was only by a few inches, but it was all she needed. Enough to mess with Nolla’s aim.

Alexis felt the thunder, hitting her full-body.

The fire encompassed her, burning from the inside out, until she was of ash.

And as she returned to the dust, Alexis had but a single, already passing dream.

Always making the same mistakes. Stumbling in the same spot, every time. No matter how many times I do it again and again. I’m such a mess.

I bet if I started from the beginning again, I’d end up right back here.

But…

I think it was worth it.

I think it was worth the trouble.

Because…

Through my bruises, the blood, being beaten black and blue…

Something bloomed.

Something I could have learned to love.

Something that, given time, would have grown and become beautiful.

So, yeah…

If given the chance to start over, I wouldn’t change a thing. Not one thing.

So yeah.

I guess that’s about it.

Good night!

And so it was.

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110 – Living Dying Message to the World

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I sobered up real fucking quick.

Quick and skittish, my eyes went up and down the length of my arm. Or what was left of it

What was left of it?

Half.

The lower half was missing at the elbow.

It just was not there.

I couldn’t even find it anywhere on the ground. I couldn’t even pick it up and try to reattach it myself. If that was even something I could do.

The lower half of my right arm was simply gone. It had… dematerialized.

And I wasn’t healing.

Nothing was coming out. Nothing was coming out.

I knew that already.

The sight of it though, sent through me a pervading sense of dread, with how the skin was cracked and hard as stone. Charred black, with even some veins that ran up from the wound, seeped deep with the color.

It wasn’t any injury I had seen before. Or anyone, possibly, for that matter.

Gingerly, my fingers reached towards the blackened stump. It wasn’t even throbbing or thrumming with any pain, it was just there, mocking me with how it wasn’t healing, that particular power somehow deciding now was the time to be shy. I was as irritated as the skin appeared to be.

The beginnings of a headache waxed, the pangs as high as the moon above, and as full, too. I blinked and shook my head to reorient myself. I couldn’t put all my thoughts on that arm. Not forever.

Not when we have death standing right before us.

I looked up again.

The form was still standing there, the figure. The Shape. Small in the distance, hard to distinguish much by moon and lamplight. Sex, age, actual height, it was nearly impossible to determine from here.

From here.

And yet they managed to blow half my arm off.

There was already some distance between me and them…

I started to put some more.

I ran.

I picked myself up and took off in a direct line away from the form. Stumbling, since I instinctively tried to push myself off the ground using both hands, and remembering I only had the one now.

The last thing I saw of the Shape as I turned was of it standing there, still as a statue, arm still outstretched. Holding whatever it was that reduced the full length of my arm to just the elbow, and stopped my healing from working.

A crack of light split the air behind me, and a boom of thunder followed. Another one.

I ducked, getting off the street and towards some buildings, an attempt to find some cover. There was a tea kettle ringing in my ears, so sharp, it was as if the sound penetrated through my skull and brain and out the other side. I wobbled as I moved from street to sidewalk, back to a proper pace once feet found grass.

What the hell were they shooting at me with?

Couldn’t even turn back to find out, which made a certain terror grip me even more tight.

They missed that time, but we’ve never been all that good with our luck. Please, keep moving.

I fucking knew that already.

I kept moving.

I was heading to what looked like tenements. They didn’t appear to be well held together, or even occupied, so I had no qualms about breaking and entering. As long as I could put some more distance and things between me and that. Them.

Every push of the leg came with an astounding power. I crossed the distance with a speed that would have blown away any top-tier athlete. Now, it was just a mad dash of desperation. Nothing graceful or impressive about it.

Moving to crawl up the side of the tenement, climbing my way up the side of a fire escape.

I crashed back down, shoulder digging into dirt.

Straightening myself, I was about to leap again and reach for the metal grating, when it came to me again, like a recurring nightmare, that I had tried to grab with my right hand first. It was a mistake I couldn’t afford to keep making.

Then the fire escape became a path I couldn’t afford to take.

Another instance of thunder, lighting flooding into my eyes for a flash, and the tearing and screaming of metal happened.

The fire escape had been blasted apart, to pieces, sharp in both pitch and debris. Shards sliced through the air, some sliced through me, sticking into my skin. I covered my face and turned away, and ended up raising one and a half arms in the doing.

Stumbling again away from the blast, I rolled with that momentum to keep moving.

Keep moving, keep moving.

I couldn’t keep pushing our luck.

Setting both arms down, I looked at the side of the tenement. The entire fire escape had collapsed, and it had torn down some of the brick wall with it. Several holes made themselves known to me. Wide enough for me to jump through.

I jumped.

Over the heap of metal and brick, I pushed myself through a part of the wall that had fallen out, practically flying through it. The hole there was almost like a wall in and of itself, a thin gossamer of black, a veil of absence. I broke through it and attempted to hide among the shadows, for what might be the last time.

Right inside was what appeared to be an apartment. The shell of one, anyways. There didn’t seem to be any sign of a current tenant, just the traces and marks leftover by previous residents, streaked across one another over the years, a film of dirt and abandonment smeared over the walls. History, too, with each skid of a shoe against the corner when a foot kicked it off, a mattress forgotten, having once been the only accompaniment to countless nights, tossing and turning away dark hours and darker anxieties, leaving when the sun shone through the glass, it wasn’t cracked before but it was now, that light going by the name, paranoia.

Morning hadn’t arrived yet. I was in the dark. I moved through the apartment like a ghost.

Broken and exposed doorways led me into a hall. Crossing it into another apartment.

The rotting door split open with a kick, and I stepped over a mushy carpet, sodden with something, leaving weighted footprints in the material. The tenement wasn’t unlike a corpse, already dead but decaying into something deeper, more base.

It was easy to imagine what happened, here. There was a community, neither big or small, but sizable enough to be affected by what was coming. Crime. Drugs. The gangs that brought them. The system. The tenements had turned into a territory, and the gang that was supposed to maintain the area didn’t put all that much care into it. They just needed it for the real estate, a place to set deals and meetings, among other things. Couldn’t be any less concerned with how they suffered the residents. One by one, the lifeblood of this place, and in this case this very building, drained, and soon was left a hollow husk, and even the gang lost interest, dropping their business here like they would a toy.

Parasites.

I ran through the dead veins of the building, each footstep like a small but ultimately futile pulse. This wouldn’t be enough to return any sense of life to this place, and it might not even be enough to save my own.

The pulses became harder, faster. I picked up the pace. I would not let this be the walk of the dead.

I entered a space more desolate than the first, more grim in the pictures these walls painted. Messy brush strokes of blood, darkened red, some in handprints, others applied with splatters. Shaped into some sort of Rorschach, blotches forming a spiral.

There was an art to it, if one could find beauty in death. Me? My sensibilities had been warped and twisted long ago.

Descending deeper in the dark, I passed something that reflected but a glimmer of light. It actually made me stop and look.

A mirror, broken and shattered, pieces missing. Starting from a point, a bullet hole, the cracks spiraling out. The mirror leaned against a wall, able to take in my full body.

Or was it mine?

The person in the mirror was disheveled, destroyed, looking at it another way. But in a way, there was no other way about it. Clothes were torn, didn’t even resemble a costume anymore. No gloves, no shoes. No mask. Their hair had gotten longer, and now it was uneven and choppy, sticking out and sticking on some places on their face.

Their eyes were heavy, baggy, overflowed with tears. Bits of human food and human blood were stuck around the chin. One and a half arms, legs, and clothes had been splashed with a certain mess and other detritus. Having sunk deeper and deeper to the very bottom, among the gloom that had already drifted there.

Was this what awaited me there, at the bottom? Was that me now? A skeleton of a thing, with long shadows drawn across the body, making it more ungainly, terrifying, no longer human. Or maybe it was never a human after all, with whatever was hiding under the skin finally rising to the surface, seeping through and exuding an ugly atmosphere, ready to subsume everything in its path. A certain change. My own Metamorphosis.

I couldn’t recognize myself, if there even was a self to recognize.

Shaking my head, my vision starting to flicker.

Another crash of thunder came from behind, and I went back to running… if not for my life, then for the one in the mirror, that broken and shattered person, with pieces missing. I ran for them.

I felt the whole building rumble from underneath my feet. I wasn’t supposed to be getting distracted, not here, not now. No time to question or consider anything, all physical and mental effort had to go towards survival, preservation. Even if it meant losing my mind in that pursuit, losing more things along the way.

The pieces fell as I found myself in a master bedroom. I wasn’t the only one in here.

A mother and a daughter. The younger one was held by the older, being sung to, a familiar melody. The room had an aroma that wafted about. Something sweet, but it was different. Not sweet like a strawberry jam, it was somehow deeper than that. Nostalgic even. The song reached my ears, that aroma hitting a core that stirred, a spiral direction.

The pair swayed together, a dance, slow and relaxed, a wishful trance. They seemed to not notice my intrusion. The ringing in my ears seemed to be in tune with the mother’s song.

No other exits. I’d get stuck here. Why had I gone this way?

The building began to rumble again.

I wanted to call out to them, but…

Make your own exit. Leave them. We’ve done it before.

We had, hadn’t we?

Before anything louder came crashing down around me, I pushed forward, past the couple, breaking them apart, and towards the thin wall on the other side. I leaned into it, favoring my half-arm, the shoulder, and the wall came tumbling down, with me following through it.

Then the bedroom exploded, turning into dust and debris.

The intense force was enough to send me rolling, but I was back on my feet and running.

Now forward like a pawn. Forward, forward.

I listened to the voice. Letting it guide me, letting it make me into whatever it needed me to be. Letting it use me. I’d let it. For us, for us. Forward. Forward.

And so I rushed. Forward. Breaking through every wall, every scene I’d come across. Another mother and daughter sharing a meal, fried chicken and miso soup, a girl sitting by herself, at the foot of a door, weeping with a great shame that she couldn’t quite place, and another sitting at a balcony, watching the city beyond it, imagining a fire large enough to consume it all

Most of the scenes, so many of them, all alone.

One by one by one by one, it all came crashing down to the back of me.

Each of them, those people, disappeared in the dust, as if they were being systematically eliminated. I couldn’t save them, even if I wanted to, even though I did want to. I was having too much trouble in saving myself.

With each blast, each crash of thunder, sweat rolled down my neck like hail. If I wasn’t running for my life, I would be shivering cold.

What was chasing me, what was making me run so fast? This was no human, this was a monster. Then what did that make me?

An animal? A mouse? As blind as three mice?

Was this all that was left for me? Endless running? Running in circles? Spirals? Countless questions in which I’d have no answers?

Pathetic. Pitiful. Laughable.

I laughed again.

If we can’t escape, we could try and stop them. Just one strike would be enough. Just one.

As many as a snake would need?

Yes, just like that. And we have the teeth for it.

We did, didn’t we?

We do.

Then, there.

Listening to the voice, so hot that it was melting my brain again. Oozing a grey matter that splashed and coated the already filthy walls when I turned my head.

Turning again, going out another way. Spiraling back around.

The tenements were becoming a labyrinth, and I was becoming lost within them. Limbs flailing in a mad dash, an ugly sight indeed. But that was fine. It was okay. Because, if I could buy just enough time for us, we could just make it out okay. We’d be fine.

I’d just have to strike. And I only needed one.

Following where I thought the thunder was coming from, seeing a cloud of accumulated dust kicking into the air, swirling the hall, I weathered it and ran through.

Silence fell upon my ears, or my madness was becoming so sharp that it began to dull other senses.

I stalked, or haunted, or hunted, whichever it was, I would soon find out, or I’d find them. Or they’d find me. I had to find them, I couldn’t let them find me. Because that wouldn’t be a good thing. No, no, it would not.

There there.

There.

I swore I saw a form in the dark. My eyes surely wouldn’t play a trick on me now, would they? Of course not.

There they were. Standing there. Still as always. Couldn’t be human, possibly a monster. Maybe like me.

I’d just have to strike. And I only needed one.

Grinning at the idea, teeth baring, I thirsted for one.

There.

I leapt with a strength that would have crushed anyone else.

I heard a single instance of a boom of thunder. Not in the direction of the Shape I was looking at.

I was crushed.

Sent through the wall, spinning. I had twisted and tried to dodge. Tried. Because it but a mere attempt.

A pathetic, pitiful, laughable attempt.

The impact was hard enough to send me flying through wood and glass. Splinters and chips were sticking out of me. Even more. I felt like a flower that was blooming shards of shrapnel.

I tried to shake myself off. Couldn’t do that. I tried to brush or pick out the fragments but I couldn’t do that either.

A harsh chill subdued me when I looked and saw why.

My left arm, from the joint of the shoulder.

Everything below.

It just simply wasn’t there.

Wild jerks of the torso. Reaching with arms that weren’t there, feeling with fingers that weren’t there. A dreamlike sensation. A phantom pain.

But the hurt of it, all too real. It turned me as red as an apple.

I threw up, and I barely had the arms to wipe it off.

Panicking, freaking out, losing it, I struggling to get back to on my feet. Turning onto my stomach, wincing when I lifted myself with my right stump, I pushed with my feet. I slipped, face hitting the floor, and with my rear up, I dragged myself until the top of my head hit a wall. I shifted positions, then slid up the wall with an insect-like crawl until I could stand.

Head was spinning.

I looked again.

From the shoulder, just like the elbow. The skin had been turned hard and burnt. The wound was hot and quickly cooling, and there was no indication that it would heal and get better.

There was no indication that any of this would get better.

I looked around.

No sign of what attacked me. The form. The Shape. The dust was begin to settle on this new equilibrium.

It’s not going to last. You’ll lose your balance. Forget about fighting back, just run. If you can’t lose them, if you can’t fight them, run.

The floor rumbled again. I was on shaky ground.

Run!

I followed that directive.

There was a glass door, a balcony leading back to the cold outside. I didn’t have the hands to throw it open.

Whatever. I was losing the sense to care anymore. I was almost welcoming the pain, at this juncture.

The glass fell around me in a burst when I went through it. Raising the stump to my face in a sad attempt to protect myself. It didn’t do shit. Funny.

A free fall, but I hardly felt free at all.

No hands to aid in my landing. I collapsed instead into a heap of my own bones. Broken.

Those bones healed, allowing me to stand yet again. My powers were mocking me, now, too. I couldn’t regrow my limbs, but I could heal just enough to keep going. Just enough to keep suffering. Just enough to live these moments in agony.

Just enough.

There had to have been a wild look in my eyes. I was searching for some kind of respite, anyone or anything that might deliver me from this.

None. No one else with me, nothing that could be of any use. As useless as I was proving to be.

I was so alone.

I wasn’t even human. Hadn’t been for some time. Why was I acting as if I was saving a human life? Wouldn’t this all be for nothing?

Stop that.

Fuck this. Fuck everything.

I wanted break this. I wanted to end it all. Burn it all down. Fuck it all up. I hated this shit for so long. The world that made me this. The girl that had brought me here. Hated me.

Don’t.

Wouldn’t it be better if I just fucked off and disappeared? Quit while I was still ahead? Quit while I still had a head?

I laughed at that, even though it was a terrible idea. I’d be heard, I was still being followed.

By something, by someone.

Swaying, as if I was sleepwalking now, through what was certainly a terrible dream, every step heavier than the last, head buzzing, body throbbing, as though that light rain continued to fall down on me. But that thrumming passed through me and the core as waves, and I swayed and swayed some more.

I was losing it, but there was a very real possibility that I never had it at all.

The tenements around me turned into towers, tipping over and threatening to topple. Or was I faltering that much already? I wasn’t used to the weight on my shoulders, or lack thereof, wanting to move or stretch an arm but I couldn’t and it only frustrated me further and…

Fuck.

Fuck this. Fuck everything. Fuck me.

Seriously.

God fucking dammit.

This isn’t a joke anymore. Stop playing around.

Make me.

What else was there? What more could I do?

There wasn’t an answer for some time.

I moved as though I was floating. Blood dripped down and stained my hair, face, eyes. It waaaas getting harder to seeee…

But you were doing so well before.

Well? That could considered a good job? Fuck that.

Maybe I should just search for a place to rest instead. Like a dog searching for place to rest. In peace.

Because victory was no longer an option.

What did that guy say? Someone said something. It was an animal.

To have some dignity. It would be better, wouldn’t it?

They’re still there. They all are. If you need a drink, we can go back.

Go back?

Weren’t we trying to leave that place?

How bad was it getting, that I couldn’t quite remember why anymore?

I just had the general sense that everyone and everything was out to get me.

So thirsty…

I did need a drink.

I needed to heal myself up.

These wounds, scarred and blackened.

Would it work?

There’s no other option.

No other option.

In other words, no choice.

Without thinking about it anymore, because there wasn’t much of a mind left to use, I staggered and spun, nearly stumbling over like I did so many times before.

Gathering all the strength I had left, what little there was. Putting it into the last two proper limbs I had.

One foot ahead of the other.

Things rushed past. Tall things. Big grey lumbering things. I couldn’t even recognize them anymore, not that they were ever particularly memorable to me but the concept of them were becoming lost on me.

I just saw colors, blurring and blending and bleeding so hard that I was becoming blind to them.

Moving without thinking. Spiraling back to where I had started from. Someone, somewhere, would see this, read this, and they would laugh, I bet. Just as I was doing right now.

Oh, to be this fucked up.

There was almost a freedom in losing myself in depravity.

It was a gut feeling that led me to where I was going, wherever that was. A spot for drink. Hunting for the dead like vultures.

But my wings were clipped. Jumping, flying became impossible, so I was left scrambling like a little mouse instead. A crossbreed between so many different creatures, but right now I was displaying the most feeble of them all. The prey.

All we need is a sip. Just one drink.

Just one drink. Yes. That was all we needed.

Just one drink.

In our stomach, in our throat, burning and yearning for something to give us our fill. Just one drink.

Our eyes landed on big bright ball in the black sky again. The moon? The sun? The world itself?

Watching. Like it always did.

So high up over everything or everyone. Where we had always wanted to be.

Why?

We used it like we would a star, letting it guide us again.

Just one drink.

Trailing after it like dust, in our stomach and throat, our nose, we could sense that we were going back the way we came. Just one drink.

Faster, faster.

Just one drink.

Smaller lights passed overhead, an orange, hazy glow. Could feel it, getting closer. Closer.

Sure it was there. Sure of it.

So close. We were so close.

We tripped.

Thunder.

Couldn’t get back up again. Wouldn’t.

Snapping back into a tangible reality, though it felt as flimsy as old cobweb, I soon recognized the situation for what it truly was.

Absolute hopelessness.

All that running for nothing. All for naught. Just a description of a struggle.

My right leg, from around the knee.

Only things around that I could see above me were streetlights, all blinking red. Looking around, from how the roads stretched, I was at an intersection. On the ground, flatlining in the middle of a crossroads.

But I was so close.

I never really had a chance. Not one.

Spiraling down, spiraling and spiraling, until I was at dead center. And what did that make me?

The target.

I didn’t hear the voice again.

Crawling was useless. Barely had the strength for it now.

On my stomach. Used what little power I had left to turn over on my back. The moon above, wasn’t there. Clouds were cutting through its light.

Or the tears were welling up too much.

Blinking didn’t help any.

Through the murky waters, I saw a form creep into my vision, blocking the light. A Shape.

Hard to make out, even at this distance.

Small, not much taller than someone like… a letter. Boy or girl, impossible to tell or even guess at. They wore a coat, or some sort of uniform, the colors neutral. They were completely silent.

Somehow… this wasn’t so unfamiliar to me.

They raised… that thing. Obviously some type of weapon. Nothing I had ever seen before. It opened out, spiraled out like snakes untangling. Black as my charred wounds.

Pointing it.

My left leg, from the base of the thigh.

Thunder.

Whole body was on fire.

They were as quiet as I was loud, screaming for a relief that would never come. Not for me. Not for us.

Then, without a word, without any regard for my squirming or wailing, the weapon pointed to my chest, right above my heart. It spiraled out again.

Feeling my chest twisting and tightening up, I swallowed, felt it scrape, dry, fruitless. I let my eyes close, slow.

And then I waited.

But nothing came. No flash, no thunder.

Was I being denied that, too?

Reluctant, wanting this to be over already, I looked once more.

They weren’t there, directly above. Off to the side, still pointing that thing at me. As if I was still somehow a threat.

Someone else was there instead. A man in grey.

Neither of them I knew. A world I had never ventured into. Now they were here, in mine. And they were about to end it.

The man in grey, for reasons only aware to him, because I surely lost the ability and will to even conceive of doing such a thing, smiled. The man in grey smiled.

And then he spoke.

“Hello to you, Meine Kreuzung.”

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109 – We are Innocent

epy arc 16 vamp

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The cat and the mouse.

One chasing the other. One being chased by the other.

An endless game. A constant loop. A part of nature.

A cycle.

For a little bit there, I was the cat. The one doing the chasing. Needing food. Always needing more. Taking what they took from me.

What did they take from me?

Everything.

My name. My sense of self. My ability to just stand still and be okay.

Those were the crimes I was accusing them of.

But.

Didn’t I end up taking those things from myself as well? In my chase, I invariably lost things along the way.

What were the crimes against me? Who committed them to who? Or was it just another cycle in an endless loop?

I threw myself into this. The world is, so therefore the outcome remains the same. No matter what.

No matter what.

Stick a hand in fire, it will burn. Each and every time.

In chasing after mice, I threw myself into the world. The fire. I burned.

But so does everyone else. In chasing after their own mice.

So what did I gain? What did I manage to take back for myself? Or did I have more to lose?

The world is spiraling into entropy, and all of us are just along for the ride.

No matter how many times the world turns, the cycle is all the same. Some may shuffle around to new positions, but it is always the same result. Every choice, every path, it seldom will change so it will always lead to this. From the beginning, it was always going to bring me here. All of us.

If I hadn’t gone outside that day.

No.

Because it was me, because it was that day, and all those previous days were those previous days, I would always step out into that cold night, walking on the path that would inevitably bring me here.

Each and every time. Like starting over a novel from the beginning. The cycle would loop back to here.

Here and now.

A car crash. A chase. The mice had set their own trap. The same cycle, but now the positions had shuffled.

So now I was the mouse.

And it

Was like coming out from a haze, a dream. A nightmare. But the terror was still very present, and very real.

Nauseous, discombobulated, dizzy. All over again.

Water splashed into my face and I choked, screamed, choked again. The water was hot.

“She’s up. Look at her, she’s shaking.”

There was laughter, a sickening note in the air.

My jaw was tight, teeth grinding, skin sizzling, and that voice was right, I was shaking. From both the heat and the suddenness of my coming to.

Feverish to the point of boiling. Then I was splashed again.

I heard other sounds now, outside of my gurgle and the laughter that surrounded me, taunting me. The tinny and tiny clattering of metal, distinct, and the hard knocks of wood, grating and skidding and screeching across a surface.

Harsh gasps for air, spitting and sputtering out hot water, dripping down my face and my hair, my clothes were soaked.

I couldn’t wipe my face.

My hands.

As the heat started to subside somewhat, blinking away water and now tears, I could start to feel the restraints.

Shackles and chains.

Locked into a wooden chair, my limbs framed across the arms and legs and tied so tight I couldn’t budge a finger. Enhanced strength wouldn’t amount to anything when I had zero room to move. The sheer weight on me was too much to bear, discouraging me to even try.

I spat more water, feeling some drool down the corner of my mouth, trailing off my chin. My tongue felt as heavy and dry as a brick.

Thirsty.

I was thirsty. But, it shouldn’t have been that long since the last time I-

Convulsing, trembling, hurting. Laughing and clattering and knocking and grating and skidding and screeching. The cacophony peaked again for a third crescendo.

I was panting and shaking like a wet dog, steam probably coming off my body, if I could see. Hair was starting to stick and poke into my eyes now.

Screaming, shivering harder. White hot. Blinded by pain and agony of which did know bounds, because I was it, and it encompassed me.

Couldn’t move an inch, aside from the chair skidding across the floor, slick with water, but not enough for me to spill over. I stayed sitting, steaming.

There was no cooling down from this. I couldn’t. As water dripped and soaked into my clothes and skin, I really felt as if I was melting.

Blood boiling.

“You’re up. Welcome back.”

I sucked in some air, some water coming with it. A vain attempt for a drink.

No sound came out from me. Nothing voluntary, anyways. A few wheezes. The rattling of chains.

“Need a little more? Here.”

I blinked again, and my vision cleared enough that I could catch the image of a rabbit standing in front of me, winding his arms back, holding a bucket. Water swirling inside, piping hot.

Hoarse, panicked, and even pitiful, I forced out a scream.

“No, no, please no!”

The rabbit stopped, swinging the bucket down but not spilling out the contents a fourth time. The rabbit set the bucket. Then someone else moved to collected it and positioned themselves where I couldn’t see.

My head was hanging, low, hair that wasn’t sticking into my face and eyes were pointing straight to the floor, dripping wet. There wasn’t a part of me that was dry. Breathing like a fish out in the open, exposed, dying.

I coughed again, and my whole body pounded. Hard.

Jaw hanging open, a long string of saliva stretching down, swinging slightly as I shook.

That voice called out to me again. A song. Sounded so far away, even though it probably was not.

“You ain’t thirsty? You’re call. We’ll be here a loooong time. To talk. So let’s talk.”

It was fucking near impossible to get my bearings on my surroundings, my self, much less how I even got here. Not even a blur. More like a smear, memories blending together, turning a once-blank canvas into something messy. Sloppy. Couldn’t even venture a guess at what the full image conveyed. Didn’t even want to. It was too ugly.

I closed my eyes instead. Focus on anything else but that.

Here. How to get the hell out of here.

“Wha… aaaaa…”

“She can’t even talk. How about squeal? Can you squeal, little mouse?”

It wasn’t laughter this time, or, there was a possibility that I was losing the ability to comprehend. The voices echoed around and even in my head. Ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing some more.

“Alright, I was going to give you the courtesy of going first, but you’ve seemed to want to concede things to me. Fine by me. I’ll start.”

My eyelids felt like they were wired shut, now. Opening them was akin to digging hands into the earth and splitting it in half from there. A monumental task for someone, something, so miniscule.

“A question. Just one. You into Chinese?”

I breathed. It came out hard and hoarse.

“We had some time so I had Toby Wong get some takeout for everyone. Isn’t that right, Toby?”

“I did, I did.”

“And what, exactly, did you bring back?”

“Fried crispy pork chop, deep fried pork intestine, beef with broccoli, kung pao beef, sizzling steak with black pepper but it stopped sizzling a while ago, sauteed shrimp, sesame chicken, moo goo gai pan, roast duck, and lo mein. Oh, hot and sour soup, too.”

“Hot and sour too, sounds like a mouthful.”

“That’s because it is. Got a lot of mouths to feed, apparently.”

“You’re right, Toby. Apparently we do.”

“What are you hungry for? I’ll let you have the first pick.”

“Um, let’s see here… I’m partial to lo mein myself.”

“Then lo mein it is.”

Other sounds. Crinkling plastic and popping of cardboard. Footsteps.

“What’s in it?”

“In it? It’s lo mein.”

“Like chicken, beef, shrimp, what are we, ah, here we are.”

“Got it all. Combination.”

“Went all out, very nice. Here, get me that.”

“Here you are.”

“Smells good.”

“Smells fucking good.”

“But, I think we should have our esteemed guest of honor take the first bite. What do you say?”

“Sounds like a great idea to me.”

“And the rest of you, what do y’all say?”

There were cheers and claps all around.

Then it got quiet. Short of my own haggard breathing.

Footsteps.

A sharp stabbing into my face that broke past my lips into my teeth going through my tongue down my gullet choking me and choking me and choking me and choking me-

-Something else was shoved down my throat. Intestines. Fish guts. Slime. Pig shit. Bugs. Snails. Dirt. Fingernails. Glass. Dust. Mud. Grime. Bile. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood-

It was my blood.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t do anything except suffer.

I suffered.

I fought, or tried, but I was too tired, my restraints biting into my arms and legs.

Hair pulled back, neck exposed with trash continuing to be forced down into it like clogged a chute. Couldn’t take any more.

Completely involuntary, I threw myself forward, folding up. I moved faster and harder than whatever had me by the hair had anticipated, and a handful of it tore out from the roots.

I started hacking the stuff out, or tried, but it was all too much. Overload. Nothing came out, or I didn’t feel it. Every one of my senses had hit red. Nerves raw.

More than just saliva was hanging from my lips now. A strand of something. Bits of others. And they all had a foul, worse than foul taste to them.

Moaning, dry heaving. Suffering.

“I don’t think she likes Chinese all that much.”

“No, Toby, I don’t think she does.”

It wasn’t even registering to me, what anyone was saying. Where I was. How I got here. Who I was.

“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Head pounding, face like it was splitting open, skull throbbing so hard it might crack.

“Have some dignity. For your sake. It would be better that way.”

I lifted myself. Somewhat. I angled my head towards the direction of the voice, but that was the best I could do. That was about all I could do.

“Can’t… see…”

Which was true. Everything weighed on me.

“Oh? How about another wash?”

I screamed like it was a reflex. Jaws tearing apart.

“No anything but that no!”

Didn’t even sound like me. Didn’t know who that was.

“Then open your fucking eyes.”

It was work. But I managed. As if by a miracle. But there was no good fortune to be found here.

The lights were low, but they were blinding to me. Hard to see, near impossible. So I didn’t try.

Blinking tears and other things.

The voice spoke. Somewhere in front of me.

“God damn, you’re still alive. So it really is you.”

“Whatever… I am, sure, it’s me.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“What…”

“Say it.”

“V.”

“The hell is a Vee?”

Defeated, I corrected myself. I didn’t want to get into it now. “Bluemoon.”

I couldn’t see, but I could feel a certain stillness run through the space of where I was, wherever I was. But that constant threat of violence was still there, hanging over me. It sat around me like a fog.

“Isn’t that a relief. And do you know who I am?”

“No…”

“Good, because it doesn’t fucking matter who I am. What matters is that we have you, and we stand to get a lot out of that.”

“I don’t have anything. Wherever you found me, you already took everything I had.”

“No, not everything. Because I wanted to make certain. I’m a careful sort, you see, I need to know what I have, when I have it. Nothing worse than having the rug swept out from under you. I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Yeah… I can…”

“When I found you, half of your body stuck in a gutter, in a pool of blood but with no visible wounds, I had a feeling. A small feeling, that I didn’t recognize at the time. But it grew, oh yes, it grew, until I could no longer ignore it and I had to tackle it head on. And that’s what I’m doing right now. Tackling it head on.”

I didn’t really have a response to that. I couldn’t even guess at what the voice’s real intentions were. If there were any.

“The others, they lasted about as long as you’d expect. Redness, irritation. Swelling in some parts. Even blisters, but that’s to be expected when you’re going for full. Do you know what full is?”

I didn’t answer.

“Full, as in full-thickness. There are four categories. Superficial epidermal, which affects only the outer layer. Redness, swelling, the usual. Superficial dermal, which reaches down the second layer. Nerve endings and blood vessels practically pop. Then there’s deep dermal or partial-thickness, which gets pretty bad, this is where you see the blisters. Heard you might not even feel anything at all. Looking at you, though, that didn’t seem to be the case. And then there is full-thickness. The most serious of skin burns.”

Breathing went hard again, feeling a chill. I was feeling a chill the entire time.

“It’s basically a third-degree burn. It can turn the skin to leather. Wax, even. Red to black, as the burn melts away the skin and deepens the color of your tissue. Most of them don’t even make it past a partial without passing out, later unable to sit or lean against anything because there are too many of those damn blisters. You, though? You. You just sat there and went through three washes hot enough to burn a man to a crisp. From the top of his head, to the tip of his dick.”

A sharp stabbing into my face that broke past my lips into my teeth going through my tongue down my gullet choking me again.

Again.

That sharp force went to my arms, where the chain were. From underneath, I could feel the sleeves being pulled away, sliding between skin and restraints, the water having made things slick.

“I don’t see a fucking bubble on you! Where? Nowhere, that’s where! I can’t find one, I don’t see any!”

I was being rocked in my chair. Hard. A weight completely overtaking me.

Then I fell over. The floor had been made slippery, after all.

This was sloppy. This was a mess.

“Stop!”

“Let go!”

“Please!”

No one would listen.

Or maybe I wasn’t able to actually say anything at all.

Struck across the cheek. Stuff flicked out of my mouth.

“Get me the bucket!”

I started seizing again.

“The other bucket!”

Pulling against my restraints, not breaking them, but I was able to make my hands a little more free. I could wiggle my fingers. I wiggled them.

“I want you see this, too, because this is really something. This when I knew I really had something.”

The weight was taken off my body. Footsteps and other sounds, circling me.

“Open your eyes!”

I opened my eyes.

Still unable to see, but I could feel. My sense of touch had been ratcheted up to heights previously thought inconceivable.

Tiny dots, hitting my face. Like someone was flicking me with pebbles.

“Open them!”

“I am!”

“Do you see this?”

More pebbles. I twitched with each bit of contact. And they were numerous.

I had to will my vision to come back to me. The fog around me finally solidifying into… something. Something terrifying.

Hazy doubles formed back together into show me creatures. A dog, a monkey, even a horse. The one standing over me, the one who I knew was doing all this to me, was the rabbit.

Reaching into a bucket, grabbing a handful and tossing them at me. Peppering me with small white dots.

More and more.

“You know what these are?”

He wouldn’t stop.

“They’re yours!”

I flinched as they hit me. Then he dumped the rest of the bucket over me.

They fell like heavy snow.

Now that I was in a pile of them, it was easy to register. I screamed again.

Teeth.

Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Incisors. Canines. Premolars. Molars. Me.

I was buried in a pile of incisors and canines and premolars and molars.

All of them were mine.

I wouldn’t stop screaming. The girl, tied to the chair that had been tipped over, among a sizable collection made of her own teeth, would not stop screaming.

“They wouldn’t stop popping back out, no matter how many I took out, no matter how long you were out. Couldn’t fucking believe my eyes. They just kept coming and coming and coming, over and over, isn’t that crazy? Isn’t that fucking insane?”

The bucket was thrown down, hitting me at one temple and when my head whipped back the other temple hit concrete. I wasn’t seeing teeth now just stars.

“So we’re going to be here for a long, long time. Got enough food for all of us to have our fill and keep going. Got enough for you, too, even if you have enough fucking teeth to fill over a hundred fucking mouths!”

I was dizzying enough to throw up. So I did.

“Christ… You’re allowed to take a break.”

“Not now Toby.”

“I’m just saying, Dong-Yul was offering up a lot of dough for the Bluemoon. Dead or alive. More alive.”

“Dong-Yul can go get his fucking dick boiled, okay? I don’t give a fuck what that fucking gook has to say.”

“Alright man, it’s your call. Whatever you say.”

“God damn right it is. And what I say is, we’re not done with this little mouse. She threw all of us into this shithole, we’re taking her even deeper with us.”

“One call, they’ll be here in a minute, and we get to walk away millionaires. All I’m saying.”

“Another word from you like that and I’m putting you in that chair next.”

“All I’m saying.”

“That’s three, maybe three and a half. Fuck it. Help me get her up.”

In the haze that clouded my mind, I was only able to gather a few details. Few, but crucial.

They would be here any minute. They. Dong-Yul, maybe even Mrs. Carter and Styx too. The others at the table.

Could finish them off here, but I was reduced to something even lesser than dirt.

Had to get out of here and recuperate.

I felt hands on me, on the chair by my restraints. I did what I could. I moved my fingers.

Even as they lifted me, I moved my fingers.

That was all I had. Moving my fingers. That was my only available option towards an escape.

How pathetic. How sad. So pitiful I could laugh.

So I did.

I started to laugh.

Laughed so hard I cracked.

“The hell is wrong with her?”

“If you have to ask, Toby… Set her down there.”

They set me upright, but there was nothing up or right about me. I kept laughing, my fingers wiggling like worms.

“Hey, what the fuck are you on?”

A strike across the face. I didn’t even. I didn’t care about anything.

Laughter.

I couldn’t help it anyways, much less myself.

Another strike. Then a third.

“Who said you can find this funny? Who?”

Laughing. Fingers. Worms.

“How about this then, huh?”

The rabbit reached for one of my fingers and pulled it back. So far back that the fingernail was an inch close to my wrist. Eyes widened and I started crying.

“We cut your fucking finger off, how do you like that? Or maybe your whole hand even? Lord knows you’ll get it back. How does that sound!”

A cold fine point pressed into the finger, right above the knuckle.

I didn’t like the sound of that, but I also kind of liked the sound of that.

I was nothing but hysterical.

A cold fine point pressed deeper into the finger, right above the knuckle.

Then it cut right through.

And then it all was wrong.

Pain. Fire. Excruciating.

Screaming. Crying.

Not just me.

All wrong.

Again.

It got everywhere. Over everything. Blood and guts and gore and arms and legs and heads.

I saw sliced through the matter. Cutting the air itself.

Obsidian tendrils out of where my middle finger was supposed to be. Slinking, slicing, cutting through the air like a snake.

A snake with more than head.

They moved in spirals. Cold, in touch and indifference, leaving things in bits and pieces.

There were screams. Some didn’t last very long. Others never seemed to end.

I watched as the blood fell like rain.

And then it was over.

It happened fast.

Eyes wider still as the snakes, blacker than the shadows, spiraled and hit against something, somehow absorbing it. The finger that had been removed. Mine.

Then the tendrils retreated, slinking back where they came from.

I saw my finger return to me. Black for a second but then the color returned, as if it was being filled by something.

The force of everything was strong enough to knock and break the restraints there, and that arm was free.

Rain still seemed to fall in here when I worked on the rest of my bindings.

Then I was free. Or at least, I wasn’t in that chair anymore.

I looked around.

The dead and the dying. Bodies stacked from the floor to the ceiling. My eyes were hurting and bleeding but I could see that much. My eyes wouldn’t deceive me now.

Animals. Dogs, monkeys, horses, a cat and a mouse. rabbits. This place had been turned into a slaughterhouse. Sounded like one with the squeals, smelled like one with the blood.

I rubbed at my wrist, then hands. All ten fingers were accounted for.

I stared at each of them. Long enough that ten almost became twenty. Then thirteen. Twelve. Thirteen.

I knew I had to get out of here. I heard there were others coming.

But I was so thirsty.

I stumbled over to one of the bodies. The rabbit.

Removing the head, I saw its face. It kind of looked like me. Some of the others who didn’t look like animals looked like me. But only on a superficial epidermal level.

Animals. Had to try and think of them as animals.

I bit into one of the rabbit’s puffy cheeks. Juices spilled out as if I was squeezing a fruit instead.

Fruit.

Something told me to do more than just have a drink. I listened.

I clamped down, teeth going deeper until it broke past the skin and the underlying muscle. The meat.

Half of the rabbit’s face was in my stomach by the time I was full. Replacing all the dirt and trash that had been stuffed in there earlier.

Now I felt so much better…

The bodies bloomed and became like the equinox. A passing thought. That I wanted to become as beautiful as them. To become anything. Something.

The thought passed, and there was nothing else. Nothing that needed to be understood, nothing that needed to be made clear to me. Because I knew now. I saw it for myself. The snakes. The animals.

With something nice and filling in my stomach, my throat washed with a sweet drink, I began my march. My march into darkness.

But I tripped first. Slipped on something.

Blood and guts and teeth. I picked myself up and marched onward.

I found my way outside. Wherever I was. Feeling a light rain continued to fall. All around my body, I felt a slight buzzing, as though something was swimming or slithering, right beneath the surface.

Outside. Wherever I was. I wasn’t lost, because I had no place to go, or a goal in mind.

I just had to go. Didn’t matter where. Didn’t matter how. It made no difference to me.

No difference to me.

No difference.

I walked the streets. It was dark, so it was either late or early. No difference to me. No difference.

My feet were bare, heels scraping along the pavement. Where I walked was segmented and changed color. One foot on black, the other on white. I turned a street and I was soon walking across a checkerboard.

I was getting thirsty again. I was getting… hungry again. I’d need more.

I would have taken more, too, if I hadn’t left that place so early. Why did I leave so early?

Oh, they were after me. They. All of them.

Misses Sticks and Carther. There were more too but I couldn’t name them. I just knew they were after me. They. All of them.

I could take them. I knew I could. But I wasn’t in a good position. I had to get somewhere else. I had to take stock of things. I had to rest.

Vision wandering like I was. I saw the moon.

Pale and round and swollen and beautiful. Like a single, unblinking eye. Watching over me. Watching over everyone. It saw all and it understood all. So high up. I was envious of the moon.

I tripped again.

Picking out bits of teeth and other matter out between my toes, I got up and started again.

I thought about who the moon would be watching.

Everyone. People. People I knew. Parts of faces. Parts of words. Letters.

D. I wanted to see D again. I was sure she’d know what to do. She was so small but she was so smart. She always had an answer. Even if it was smart one.

Who else?

Isabella and Lawrence weren’t here. I wouldn’t be able to see them anymore.

Sarah. I’d never be able to see her again. I felt cold.

Someone else. Their name on the tip of my tongue. Almost clear…

Claire.

She wanted something from me. For me. Hard to recall it now.

Until then, I’d keep on this path. Wherever this one led.

There were others that were coming to me. But they weren’t for me. Someone else. But their image kept getting caught in the glint of my shattered, fractured mind.

Turning to another corner, a foot catching on something and I fell.

Get up, you can’t let it end here.

I got up, but not before spitting out a fang. I had hit the ground funny and laughed. A new one grew back in.

Walking like this, on a seemingly endless path though I knew there would be an end eventually, I felt the closest thing to what I could ever consider to be peace. Wandering like this, with only wanting to take the next step, one bare foot ahead of the other. I was free. Free to live. Free to die. But a voice was telling me to keep trying.

Keep trying.

I would. For their sake. As if I had been hardwired, this entire time, to do just that. Resigned to that.

Thank you. We’re almost there. Just a little more.

Just a little more. Almost there. Welcome.

Didn’t stop moving. Not even when the concrete began to gnaw on the soles of my feet, turning them red and raw, bleeding and healing with every step.

No other ugly, disgusting wounds on me. I walked, and was the closest to okay I had ever felt in a long time.

As long as I kept walking, I would be okay. Or at least the closest thing.

I looked again. Saw the moon. Watching me. Like the other times I checked. Thought it was something else but it was just the moon. Like always.

Then the moon shed a tear.

Dropping from the sky like rain, it landed there. There, on the street. An open area in a city desperately trying to get some sleep for the night.

A form.

Someone was standing in the middle of the space.

I saw them, and they saw me.

And it was as if a piece fell into place, in a puzzle I would never be able to step back from and take in entirely. But a piece did fall into place. A partial piece.

Just from seeing them alone. Just as I was alone.

My salvation.

They had been following me this entire time. For this moment. For me.

Muscles tensing, the bubbling and buzzing within me festering stronger.

Without thinking, I moved myself a tad closer. I began to hunch over on all fours, crouching like I was about to pounce. Step by step, I inched forward while keeping my eyes on them.

I shivered. But it didn’t.

Tried saying something, but it came out wrong.

Kehkehkeh…”

Didn’t sound human.

But I’d listen to the voice. I would not perish here. I didn’t want to die like the animal I had become, the monster I had always been. This would be my final defiance.

I would have my fill.

The form moved. Pointing. They weren’t any taller than the little girl who apparently had reduced herself to but a letter.

An instrument. A plaything. In their hand it opened up like an umbrella. Obsidian.

Among the rainfall, there was a rumble. Far away. Like a single instance of a boom of thunder.

I fell over.

That wasn’t supposed to happen a fourth time.

I checked where it hurt. It started to hurt so much.

My right arm, from around the elbow.

Everything below.

It just simply wasn’t there.

I waited for the tendrils to come back and help me. Save me. But they never came. Instead, black, charred flakes scabbed over the fresh wound. Nothing was coming out.

Nothing was coming out. Nothing was coming out.

Nothing was coming out.

Those four words.

I did not heal.

A wave of despair washed over, and a squealing pierced the night sky.

Previous                                                                                               Next

Interlude – Claire

Previous                                                                                               Next

The worn-down taxi cab was twice older than Caleb and Willem, seven and five respectively. As familiar with this hunk of junk as she was her own children. The air freshener – now stale – that was hanging from the rearview, shaped like a pinetree. The paper dragon that Caleb cut and taped together, resting lopsided on the dash. A tiny, tiny chunk of vomit by a windshield corner she couldn’t reach, from when she had no choice but to bring baby Willem for a day. Now, thank god for Kim.

A place more familiar to her than her own apartment. When she sat, hands on the wheel, she was in her own little world. A home she could take with her to see the world, or in this case, Stephenville.

People would come in, sitting in the back, bringing with them their own stories, their own worlds. She would get to travel, and, for a brief moment, get a glimpse at all those different worlds, all from the comfort of her own. To make a decent living out of it… wasn’t such a bad deal.

Claire sat in her own little world, bathed in the dark of an alley. Waiting, silent.

She was never a fan of sitting in silence. It meant shutting out the world, or at least a part of it. She didn’t want that. She wanted to be here, be there, be present. To be able to drive through it.

Claire turned the dial and let a little bit of the world in.

“-continues to ravage the streets of Stephenville as the city enters another calendar day of civil unrest.

You’re pretty kind to just be calling it civil unrest, Slims.

Is ‘protests’ a better word?

Maybe.

But what are they protesting?

It’s a whole thing down there with the Asian American community. A whole damn thing. They’re tired of all the abuse and discrimination that’s been brought down against them lately.

But we’re seeing everyone on the streets, and I mean everyone. Asian, Black, Caucasian, we’ve got the whole A-B-C all the way to Z of people just painting the town red. It’s unreal.

It’s real enough for us to talk about it.

So we’ve got all those people, just tearing up what they can… you know what gets me?

And what’s that?

What gets me is all the theatrics around it. Some of these outbursts are planned of and some of the other outbursts are just chain reactions from the first category of outbursts. But the first category… you see all these people with masks. It’s a mob, really, a whole gang of fools just doing these coordinated attacks. Did you hear about a string of car bombs, blowing up major roads into the city?

No I haven’t.

Ever since that superhero started coming on the scene… the Bluemoon, right?

Yeah. Heard it was a girl though.

Ever since the Bluemoon started coming on the scene, now everyone’s trying to get a piece of that blockbuster weekend superhero spectacle action, except now it’s not stuck to being in the movies, it’s happening out there in real life with real lives at stake. It’s only going to get worse, and now the National Guard is going to have a harder time getting in because of the roads!

I heard the government is considering labeling the city as uninhabitable. Turn it into a No Man’s Land type of situation.

Well, let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point, Jimbo.

It was a channel Claire had grown to be very familiar with. Late 94 with DJ Slims and Big Jim, or Jimbo for short, even though it was the same amount of syllables. They weren’t exactly the brightest bulbs that illuminated her night drives, but they were entertaining, and that was enough to be better than silence.

Claire continue to listen in on the old men’s banter.

And to speak on theatrics, Jimbo, you never did answer my question.

Which question?

What word would you use to describe the situation over in Stephenville?

The situation over in Stephenville? Actually, it reminds me a whole lot of the situation we once had here in our own backyard.

You… ah, that’s right.

Back in the-

When cellular phones were still referred to as cellular phones, I can recall.”

It was a whole thing back then too. A whole damn thing.

Oh yes, it was. Didn’t last as long nor was it as bloody.

Well, we’ll have to see about that first part, Jimbo. The second part I can agree with.

Still pretty bloody though.

Oh yes, still pretty bloody.

Over the old men bickering, Claire heard a heavy thump somewhere behind her taxi. She took a look through her rearview mirror, but it was too dark into the alley to see anything.

Another sound, right after. A passenger side door opening, and the boss sliding in.

Claire waited for the order.

“Drive!”

That was the order.

Claire drove out of the alley and into the street.

She turned the dial and let a little bit of the world out.

“Never did answer the question,” she murmured to herself.

“Yeah?”

“Yes boss?”

“Oh, thought you were asking me something.”

Eyes on the road, watching traffic and for any other potential obstacles, like the police or black vans or a bike or everyone, Claire drove. Her hands were steady on the wheel.

When she started, she was competent enough as a driver, but everyone started out that way. Then she got better, and over time she got better than the other drivers she had started out with. And then, she got to be rather good at her job.

And now, all those years, that learned skill and experience, were all being put to the test. All on the account of the young woman sitting in the backseat of her taxi.

Boss.

Claire could recall the first time this young woman took that seat and told her to drive. She could recall what she had on her mind that night. Making enough to make ends meet for that month. Rent and other bills and Willem’s birthday coming up. She was listening to Slims and Big Jim then, too.

The night that followed, and every subsequent night that followed whenever she got that call, and had that young woman sit in the back of her cab, had branded themselves into her memory. Searing, hot. Forever leaving an impression.

And impressed she was, or was it fear? Or even something else? Because, when Claire had the young woman not in her cab, but sitting across from her in her own apartment, she didn’t see what everyone else wanted to see. The superhero, the supervillain, the monster, or whatever shape people needed in order to fit a specific context or understanding.

She saw a teenager, a child. Someone even younger than the young woman who sat in her cab for the first time, shrouded in darkness. And for those minutes, sitting in her kitchen, basked in the stark, artificial light, she saw someone as they really were. Presented in their entirety.

A girl, tired, sleepy, hair frayed at the ends and sticking up and out in parts. Eyes low and baggy, hiding behind glasses that caught the light, as if in attempt to obscure that part of her, to not reveal too much about herself. But it was too little, too late. The mask was already off, in a sense. Perhaps without being conscious of it herself, she wanted to show something of herself to someone, even if she couldn’t help but put a wall up, here and there.

And it spoke to something within her nature, despite her nest being rather full. But Claire couldn’t just take the money and walk away now, if it meant leaving this young woman behind.

“How did it go?” Claire asked. She asked as if she really cared, because she really did.

The taxi rolled along, the ride smooth. Claire was able to peek through the rearview again.

The boss stayed in the back, leaning so her face remained traced in shadow. Her mask was off, her hood down, but she still felt a need to hide somewhat.

She seemed to be working at something, her arms moving back and forth.

“Went about as well as you’d expect,” was her answer.

“I didn’t have any expectations, aside from you making it out okay.”

“Oh, well, thanks then. At least I managed that.”

“You didn’t burn the place down like last time. I’d consider that a step up.”

“Oh yeah. I wouldn’t do that Santino a second time. But there are plenty others who still need their turn. So let’s not waste another second.”

“Going as fast as I can, boss.”

Fast as she could, but not too fast. Still had to stay inconspicuous. Claire checked behind her again through the mirror, and caught a bright light. She blinked, and it was gone. But it was never there.

The Panorama in flames. That image had burned itself well into her mind.

“Are you planning to set fire to every place you go tonight?”

“I have my plans. Your job is to take me to where I have to be to execute those plans. Don’t you worry about what I do or do not have planned when I get there.”

But I can’t help but worry when I look at you.

Claire didn’t dare voice that.

Her eyes were back on the road, she signaled for a turn. She already knew where their second stop of the night was.

The radio droned. Slims and Jimbo were still prattling on current events like how older people tended to do. Better than silence, but not good enough.

She heard lips licking together. A sound of metal hitting or going into something. When Claire checked, a quick glint caught her eye.

Better to keep her eyes to herself.

“Actually, boss, I guess I could ask you this question, if you don’t mind?”

“Depends, but I’m up to hearing it.”

“Once this is all over, and I hope I’m not prying too much, boss, but once you’re done here, what’s next?”

A long, drawn beat of radio drone and the hum of road.

“What’s next…”

“Any plans?”

“I don’t think I have plans that go that far.”

It sounded like it an admittance more than anything else, a confession.

“I’ll have to figure that out if I get there. But I can’t even afford to have that in my mind right now. This is what matters. Right now, right here. Tearing, burning down as much as I can. Until I get through everything and everyone, or if I get stopped first.”

“Seems to me you don’t mind too much if it’s the latter.”

“Claire?”

“Yes boss?”

“You are prying too much.”

Hearing that, somehow, it stung.

“Allow me to apologize,” Claire said.

A soft breath from behind. It lasted long enough to sound shaky, falter, then ultimately shatter.

“It’s just… yeah. Let me do my thing, and you help me to do that thing. And let’s just leave it at that, alright?”

There was a tension in the air that Claire was more than familiar with. Like the moments after Caleb had thrown a fit over not getting thirty more minutes of a cartoon before going to bed, the harsh quiet that soon followed when he’d have to understand that he wouldn’t get what he wanted, a lesson he had to learn night and night again. She had the patience for it, but that tension was still there, and every night, that rubber band would be pulled.

It sat heavy in the air like static from a radio. Except in here, it had been dialed up to eleven.

The young woman was sitting back there, working on her own business, and ordering Claire to mind hers. And Claire was more than able, even when every maternal instinct within her was telling her to reach out and… not push, but pull. Bring her in. Her own nest was full, but that inclination was still there. She couldn’t deny it.

But she would have to ignore it. In this cab, she wasn’t a mom, she was a driver.

And isn’t that just a shame.

Claire took another turn, going down another road. Not another word was uttered until they arrived at their destination. The second stop of the night.

“Alright,” she said. The word felt heavy in her mouth.

Claire put the taxi in about the same place as before. By the sidewalk.

The door opened and shut without so much as a ‘see you later.’ Not this time. She was already on the move. Which was disappointing.

Claire went back into the flow of traffic, back to silence.

She raised the volume again.

“-long until this coalition begins to, what’s a good word for it, devours itself.

How you figure, Slims?

Happened last time. The Koreans were mad as hell because the police were down at Little Tokyo, not Koreatown, because all the city centers bordered there. Things weren’t so pretty between them Asians once it all settled back down.

Things weren’t so pretty with everyone.

Point is, Jimbo, Stephenville doesn’t have a Koreatown, do they?

Don’t have a Little Tokyo neither.

Oh boy. That’s not going to bode-

Well, there’s still time for things to simmer down. We can see how it plays out then.

And that, we shall. I think it’s time to take some late night calls. We got one here from, oh, our hometown of West Vineland. Welcome to Late 94 with your host Slims and my buddy Jimbo…

Claire missed the rest of the call. She would have kept listening, but a faint yet more pronounced noise stole away her attention.

In the thin sliver of mirror, a pinetree dangling off from it, a plume of smoke started billowing into the night sky. Another one. Far too late to consider these as isolated, incendiary incidents. They have long since been a trend.

Way down the street, Claire could see the building. Morricone’s, the Italian restaurant they had visited earlier in the day.

A rumbling rocked the building. Claire thought she felt it through the tires.

The red brick building kept breathing out the smoke. Claire inhaled, gulped, and breathed out too.

Ragged and threadbare, the driver’s seat safety belt had ran through the loop by Claire’s head so many times that it was near paper-thin. Wearing a shirt or a bra, she was that used to it around her body. Never before had it pressed this hard into her chest, digging that far into it. Her foot on the pedal, flat on the floor.

“Shit!”

Later in the night, and it wasn’t silent anymore.

The taxi tore through the street, following the action. Chasing after it. To be more precise, chasing after the the black muscle car thirty feet away.

Sharp, a right around a corner. No warning. The black muscle car flexed its stuff and turned on a dime. Smooth, almost gliding across the pavement, before the tires gripped for traction and bursted into a line again.

Tires and brakes squealed when Claire turned.

She rounded the corner. It wasn’t sharp or even right at all. No amount of coins could cover the difference. Thirty feet became fifty.

Rough, skidding and skipping, kicking up bits of concrete. Nowhere near as graceful.

But that wouldn’t be enough to slow down Claire.

She fixed her hands on the wheel, holding them firm, in place. She played with the brake and gas pedals, switching between them to at least ride it out instead of spinning out. All things considered, Claire didn’t spin out.

Gas to the floor again, and she was going straight, narrowly missing a separate vehicle. Wrong place, wrong time. The light was red the whole time.

The chase continued.

Claire was still on the tail of the black muscle car, but she had lost any purchase on them she might have had. Fifty was becoming sixty. At this rate, she would have lost them completely.

Wind whipped through a window in the back.

“We’re losing them!”

Her voice was almost whisked away from how fast they were going.

Claire gripped the wheel harder, knuckles going white.

Her own voice could be heard just fine.

“You want me to drive? I’m driving!”

She couldn’t believe she was doing this a second time. Or, maybe she could, but her mind was on about a hundred other things at the moment.

Like catching up to that black muscle car, like the fact that they were facing oncoming traffic, like how she had to swerve between vehicles, hearing them honk as the zipped past. Like how the taxi was rattling as the speedometer steadily tilted more and more to the right. Like how she was doing this a second time.

Like the fact that she was also getting shot at.

“Boss!”

Claire tried to scream that, anyway. Wasn’t sure if it came out as a word or just a general shriek.

She got a reply regardless.

“Yeah!”

Then the young woman fired shots of her own.

Claire screamed again. Not a real word.

She didn’t have a gun before. Did she? Claire didn’t remember a gun being a factor last time. The last time she had to race through the streets of Stephenville. But there was one now. There definitely was one now.

The ringing in Claire’s ears were testament to that.

A high pitch that pierced through her hearing, but she kept her focus on her focus, just so she could continue to charge ahead while still avoiding every obstacle coming at her. Some very large, others not so much.

The taxi veered to the left, dodging a truck and more bullets.

“Keep to the left, they’re taking the turn!”

Claire adjusted while her boss continued to fire.

Her boss was hanging out the side of the open window, mask and all. Gun in hand, popping off in the direction of the black muscle car, and other perceived threats. For the latter, Claire would have to let her be the judge of that. She didn’t like leaving that up to someone so young.

Hard to remember how they got here. Too hectic, too sudden. The boss got back into the taxi after Morricone’s, said something about an Inez being served their last meal, then they were off to their next stop and then-

A bullet pinged off the windshield. Didn’t break, but a line like lightning cracked along one edge of the thing. Claire screamed again.

That.

And then that.

It was a bumpy transition to the next street. The taxi clipped the corner, hitting a trash can, contents flying out. People dove out of the way.

People who were way too close.

Claire yelled. “You have to stop them already! We can’t keep going-”

“-Faster! Just a little more!”

Claire yelled again, but her foot was back to being flat on the floor.

Thing was, the money really was that good. Yet the price was seeing a world too seedy for her comfort.

Or was she considered a part of it, now?

No time to think on that.

The taxi gained, somehow, the black muscle car swerving, more wild than before. A popped tire? The boss kept firing.

“There!” she called out into the wind. “Got the tire! Peace Phoenix Plaza! Pick me back up-”

But she had already left.

The boss jumped out of the speeding taxi, going well over seventy miles an hour. Claire kept on going straight, finding it easier now. There wasn’t a body hanging off the side of the taxi, and she was going the correct way down the street, now.

Rolling off the momentum from all the action, she got ready to steer. The black muscle car was slowing down.

From above, a figure landed on the hood of the car. An impact hard enough to dent, hard enough to pin the car in place. After a hard bend off the road, knocking into another car and the pole on the way, the black muscle car was finally put to a stop.

Claire slowed down some, steering around the crash, slipping by before anyone else could. Putting as much distance between her and that as possible.

By the impact, another car screeched to a halt, people getting out. A second black muscle car.

She was being chased too?

That thought hadn’t even occurred to her. Was the boss firing rounds to keep them at bay?

Before she could consider the answer, the first black muscle car, the one they were chasing, burst into a great ball of flames. Claire could feel the sweat trickle down the back of her neck.

She turned and got away.

Putting several roads and a mile between them, Claire knew where to go. Peace Phoenix Plaza. It wasn’t that far from here.

Claire started heading in that direction. With the police presence spreading thinner and thinner, once she got the taxi in flow with normal traffic, near other taxis, she was able blend back into the background, as if she had never stood out. The chase couldn’t have lasted more than several minutes. But that was enough to age her. She couldn’t afford that loss of time, though, she still had a whole motherhood ahead of her.

As she drove, Claire fixed Caleb’s paper dragon on the dash, setting it upright.

She arrived at the Peace Phoenix Plaza, the park close to the area considered the Eye. The word ‘plaza’ still applied, because it was built as one, it still was one. ‘Phoenix’ fit, now than ever. When Claire looked in the distance she saw the namesake statue on fire. Police were blocking off the entrance, redirecting anyone who happened to pass by.

So much for ‘Peace.’

Claire turned the taxi around, setting in park at loop where other taxis would wait for any possible passengers. Close enough.

She waited.

Time to breathe, time to think. Didn’t even want to listen to Late 94 right now.

She remembered having to race people to airports, or even runs to get people out of the city. But it was nothing like this. Or the last time she had the young woman in her taxi.

Claire also remembered that time, that last chase. A van. No guns, but just as insane. Because the driver of that other van was a little girl. Where was that girl now?

She only had a glimpse of that world, but it was so ugly, so wrong. Yet, there she was.

From inside, she inspected the damage to the taxi. The hairline crack on the windshield, a few dents across the hood. She couldn’t see if there were any bullet holes punched into the vehicle, but she didn’t want to go outside and check. She was too scared to, as if something worse would happen if she ventured outside.

At least in here, she was in the comfort of her own world.

Claire checked a switch by the center console. Still off. The sign on top wouldn’t light up. She wasn’t available for any other business. The business she was in now was too crazy.

No, not business, trouble.

At least the sign is still up there, this time.

She just wanted to get home and back to her kids.

Time ticked until the ticking became unbearable, and Claire turned the ignition to save gas. The taxi went still, the rumbling rust bucket wheezing no more.

Was the boss even coming back? How long was she expected to wait? They didn’t have any line of communication outside of maybe her phone. But everytime she called, it was through a different phone.

Her bag was still in the back, with all kinds of heat Claire didn’t want to be stuck with. Someone else had better take it, because it wasn’t hers.

She ran her fingers through her hair, fixing it.

Christ.

The door open and someone threw themselves in a hurry.

Claire turned the key and was back on the road before a young woman tell her to-

“Drive!”

They left the general area of the park, the flames of the Phoenix finally being extinguished. Claire checked.

“You alright boss?”

She had to check on her, too.

The young woman was going through her bag while she answered, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere.

“You mean in an existential sense?” She paused. “Sorry. We’re fine. There’s no heat on us. Can’t say the same for Edward and Gary.”

Who the hell was Edward and Gary?

Now, the only way she’d be able to sleep tonight was if she could really believe these people deserved, whatever the hell her boss did to them. Claire didn’t put her thoughts there.

“I meant,” Claire said, “Are you alright?”

“What, yeah, me? I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Claire pressed her lips together, firm, before speaking again.

“When you’re doing the things you do, and I’m watching you do them, makes it a lot harder not to. At least when I’d drop you off somewhere, you go off and I try not to think about it. But now…”

She trailed off, unsure what she was trying to say, or what she was getting at.

“Now what?”

Claire drove, not answering, now just pretending as if she didn’t hear.

“Is that all for tonight? It’s getting late, and I wouldn’t want you to push your luck. Or, maybe you’re done now?”

That last question came more from wishful thinking.

“Nowhere near done. Got a whole list left.”

Claire felt her heart sink.

“But we don’t have to run through it all tonight.”

Sinking deeper.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough? That you made your message clear?”

The young woman zipped up her bag, holding something smaller. An orange streetlight filled the interior for a quick second, and Claire looked away. Back to the street.

“There is no message, and I’ve nowhere near had enough. I’m sorry Claire, but I’ll need you for one more night.”

“One more-”

“These stops took longer than I had anticipated, especially that last one. It worked out in the end, but that was a lot of time lost. But you’re right, shouldn’t push our luck. So, one more night.”

Now with a new destination in mind, Claire now drove with more purpose. Home.

“You can’t just spend your nights throwing away your-”

The young woman reached across to the front of the taxi, tossing a heavy wad of wrapped bills.

“I’ve got a few thousand to spend and throw away right here.”

Claire would have said more, but the young woman was busy with something else now. Apparently taking a drink of something.

Claire took the wad, feeling the weight. Buying her silence, buying her cooperation. But there had to be a cost, somewhere, from both sides, that couldn’t ever be recurred. Sinking.

The taxi rolled on, going through the world, a world on fire, a world Claire was no longer familiar with. And in the taxi, there was another world she felt she had some responsibility to at least… do something. She thought of Caleb and Willem.

But the cost? A few thousand she might end up throwing away.

Claire set the money in the seat. It was a price she was willing to wager.

The steering wheel itself was loose, when left alone it leaned a tad to the right, which made going straight a bit of a hassle. Claire remembered when she first reported it to Bill, her real boss, and he had her send it in for a repair, among other things. It came back worse, but enough other stuff had been fixed that Bill couldn’t justify sending it back for the one issue. She learned to deal with it.

Claire prepared to make a right, loosening her grip on the wheel. She let it slide out of place before turning it all the way.

The sun went up and down, a half-circle across the sky. Now it was moon’s turn, hovering above them.

Another turn, another night.

Claire drove while the young woman sat in the back.

If there was any consolation, it was in that there wasn’t much to do during the day. For Claire, anyway, her boss had gone out after… after breakfast, and didn’t return until the sun began to set. Her kids had come home from school and were already in bed, but not with countless question on if their guest would be joining them for dinner, and why she wasn’t at dinner, and why wasn’t home for bedtime, because it was way past bedtime. Claire had ran out of answers by the time the young woman got back.

And now they were back, back out on the streets, on the prowl. Claire hoped this would be the last time she’d have to do this. For her own sake, and for the young woman.

A sharp hiss.

“Yes boss?” Claire asked, by reflex.

The young woman looked at her through the mirror, momentarily confused.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I think.”

“If it’s not nothing, then I might need to know about it,” Claire said. “Might have to chase after it. Or get away from it, apparently.”

The young woman grinned, small. For now, her mask was off.

“It’s really nothing. I just keep seeing things,” she said. “I think.”

“You get enough sleep?”

“Not really.”

“This a regular thing? I hope it’s not a bad habit.”

“Oh it is,” the young woman said, almost laughing. “It most certainly is.”

Claire frowned. She couldn’t help it.

She spoke like she was talking to either Caleb or Willem. “That’s no good. Everyone needs rest, and sometimes they need it more than they need food, or, you know, whatever it is you had for breakfast.”

“I know. But there’s no rest for the wicked.”

“Wicked. Is that how you see yourself?”

“It’s how I see myself sometimes.”

“And other times?”

“Could you turn down the radio there?”

“Oh.”

Claire turned it down, she hadn’t realized it was on that loud. She had gotten so used to DJ Slims and Big Jim’s voices that she could tune them out, easy.

But Claire also noticed that the young woman didn’t answer the question. How much of that was intentional, she didn’t know.

Would she let that go?

Even if she did, she still had something she wanted to say.

“Boss…”

“Claire.”

“I think it would be good for you to start thinking what you want to do after you’re done here.”

There was a long beat. Nothing. Not even Late 94 to brush away the silence.

All the young woman said was, “Prying.”

“I know I am,” Claire said. She was terse. “But I think it’s important for you to have some goal or priorities in mind that aren’t… this.”

“Too late for that,” was what she got. “Too late for me.”

Claire shook her head, still watching the road.

“No it’s not, it’s not. It’s never too late. There’s always a way, you just have to want to find it.”

Another, longer beat. Then the young woman spoke.

“Claire, I have a lot of respect for you. Now more than ever. You’re reliable, you’re kind, patient, and all those other wonderful things. Maybe you hear that a lot, maybe you even think they’re just normal, but trust me, from what I’ve seen and the people I’ve met, that’s a real rarity. Lying and cheating and stealing, that’s what it takes to survive in the world I’ve been in, but that means people will try and to do the same thing to you. So I can’t go back to normal, or all those other things, because I’ll always have to watch my back. Even now, I have to keep low in case any of those people are plotting things that I’m not aware of. Part of the reason why I was gone all day.”

“I hope you won’t bring any trouble to my home, then,” Claire said. “Whatever happens to or around this taxi, fine, this is its own world, but not there, not my home.”

“I won’t, and I didn’t.”

“But,” Claire breathed, “That’s not the point. You sound so… you’re not even going to give it a try? Finding something that isn’t this?”

“This is all I know.”

“You can learn!”

Claire stopped the taxi, parking it to the side. The young woman’s back straightened, sitting up.

“Hey, we don’t have time to waste.”

Claire turned around to face her. The young woman.

A teenager, a child. Whatever life this child had led to get here, in the back of her taxi, probably enough to fill over a hundred chapters in an opus, Claire might never know the details to, but she still saw the youth in her. She hadn’t been completely soiled. Or in that soil, there was still a chance for roots to grow, become something new.

Something that wasn’t this. Revenge and blood and fire. There had to be more to her world than that.

“What’s your name, boss? Not the mask’s name, yours. I noticed you never told me.”

The young woman’s lip curled up, slight.

“Call me Vee.”

“Vee?”

“Like the letter.”

“Okay, V, what I’m trying to get at is, I refuse to believe that there’s nothing else for you. I’m just choosing not to believe it. And while I hate to bring up that I have more years on you, because you probably have a lot more packed into yours, but I’ve seen my fair share, too. Redemption. I’ve taken people to as many drug dens as I have hospitals and rehab centers. Sometimes it’s the those same people for both. And sometimes, they truly do get better. I’ve seen it happen, is what I’m trying to tell you. From the lowest and darkest places, to even just a few rungs up, but it’s not nothing.”

The young woman, V, listened. Not that she had any choice to.

Claire watched for any sign, as intently she would her own child. A brow, a lip, the flutter of an eye, to indicate that she’d at least listen.

She got one of those things.

“Has it gone the other way?” she asked. “From rehab back to the drug dens.”

Claire frowned again.

“I’m not going to lie to you and say that doesn’t happen. It’s not realistic. But that’s-”

“Not your point. I know. I hear you.”

Claire’s lips formed more of a straight line now.

“But why do you care?”

Claire smiled. That was easy.

“Looking at you, someone has to.”

V went silent, and Claire would have to wait. But that was a silence Claire could sit through.

“Okay,” V then said, “Fine. I can… Maybe it’s worth a shot.”

“More than you know,” Claire said, smiling wider now, “I can help you too, if you’d like. Look up some stuff, find some options. Schooling, if you’re interested. If you don’t want to be in a system or record there are plenty of libraries that hold classes to teach basic trades, not to mention-”

V raised a hand. Claire stopped.

“Hold it. I still have my plans. And you still have a job to do.  All that can wait until after tonight. Alright?”

Claire nodded. It would have to do.

“Alright. After tonight. We can do it.”

V then gestured. “Then please.”

Nodding again, Claire put the car on drive, adjusted the steering wheel, and moved on once again.

“So, Irving Street, as nostalgic as it is, we didn’t visit it yesterday. What’s there?”

For whatever reason, Claire was feeling more chatty now.

Through the rearview, V started getting to work with her bag. Mask and guns and knives.

“No need to know.”

“Considering how your plans changed last night, especially with that chase scene, I’d like to know what I’m getting into this time.”

V sighed.

“Heard something while I was out today. Did some scoping. Apparently the leader of the gang that’s spearheading these riots, is using the warehouse on Irving as a base of operations.”

“That place seems to switch hands quite often.”

“Apparently. Worth a check now that it’s dark and I can drive.”

“I’m driving.” Claire smiled to herself. “But that’s okay. We’re coming up on it now.”

“Yeah.” V had her mask halfway down her face, over her eyes.

Across the street, a cement truck with the large cylindrical tank crossed the intersection, perpendicular to them. The truck was slow, and Claire had to slow the taxi as a consequence.

“You want me to put the taxi in the same place as before?”

Claire never got the answer to that question.

A harsh suddenness, a certain violence that encircled them and took away all control.

The world, spinning out of control.

The steering wheel leaned far more to the right than ever before, nearly a complete revolution. Useless. So were the brakes and the gas.

Her body went slack, limbs flailing, unable to take back their own volition. Just noise and pain and crash and broken glass and twisted metal.

Violence, suddenness, harsh. Over as soon as those things happened.

Coming to was a whole other thing. A whole damn thing.

Claire coughed herself awake, a sharp pain all around her.

Hanging by the ragged and threadbare belt. She was hanging upside down. Arms over her head, but to the ground.

Coughed again. The pain sharper. Something was broken.

Her vision was filled with colors that ran together, but she could make out some details. Not something, everything.

The pinetree was hanging the wrong way as well, the paper dragon lost. The thin crack of the windshield had burst into a spiderweb.

Complete and total silence. The heavy ringing and the blood flowing the wrong way made it hard to hear.

In a very real sense, her world had been turned upside down.

“V?”

Came out muffled, but she could make out her own voice.

“Anyone?”

No answer for either question.

Vision still murky, Claire looked through the glass of the rearview. It was broken now. But through the shards, she couldn’t see the young woman she had as her passenger and boss. In fact, it looked like the door to the side had been opened.

Claire moaned.

Then the door to her side opened.

Claire saw feet. Shoes. Upside down. Right-side up.

The legs then bent. She saw not a face but… a clown? Now Claire was the one seeing things.

“Got the driver here. Still alive, though barely. If anyone has a gang doc on hand we could help her out.”

Claire groaned, trying to indicate something. Anything, by this point.

Another pair of feet entered the frame. The beak of a bird swooped down and was pointed at Claire. It swooped back up.

“Forget about her. Where’s V?”

A third pair now. They didn’t check inside the taxi but they sounded young. Younger than the young woman.

“They’re after her right now. Told you she’s fast.”

“But still… shit. The block was fucking locked down, too.”

“She’s out in the open now, that’s what matters. We just need to keep her moving, never rest, and she’ll fall into someone’s hands. Either ours, or the police, I can see the helis in the distance. When that happens we’ll pick her up.”

“Better be soon. Last thing I need is for someone else to get a hold of her. I want to see her. Look at her right in the face. I want her to know it’s me.”

“You know, there’s a chance she might not recognize us at all. And come on, can someone get her out of there?”

“D, tell Mrs. Carter and Styx we’re moving up. I am not letting her get away.”

“No big, Big Sis!”

Claire was starting to lose consciousness again. Unable to understand anything, it was almost better to fall back to sleep, and hopefully wake up somewhere else, somewhere safe.

She thought about her kids. She thought about Kim. She thought about V.

Hers was full as it was, but she was willing to nest another egg. The egg being V’s world. But now, it might be close to being cracked and destroyed.

And there was nothing she could do about it now. Claire was stuck, in the worn-down taxi cab.

Previous                                                                                               Next

108 – Friendly Fire

Previous                                                                                               Next

I got up.

My eyelids flashed open, fast and strained. I panicked at the suddenness of it and woke up frenzied.

“Agh!”

A jolt passed through me, sending my body up and tumbling. Too early to be conscious of who I was, where I was, or what was happening, I was already falling-

Agh!”

It wasn’t a long descent.

Something stabbed me, right between the ribs, and my breath was stolen from me. I gurgled, and flipped over to pull the thing out of my side. In my haste, the back of my head hit another something.

I growled, not even a real sound that could be formed or understood with letters. The underlying and growing emotion was still there, though. Irritation.

Going for another tactic, I just stayed still instead. I waited, and waited, so things could settle. My head cleared and I was able to get a grasp of myself again. Relatively speaking.

Claire’s head popped up from the top of the couch.

“You alright?”

She had a look on her face that she’d might have given to her own kids. Concerned, but not terribly concerned.

I groaned.

Working back to my feet, my brain catching up to my surroundings. I tried to talk through it.

“Had a… I woke up weird and fell off the couch. This thing… I landed on this thing.”

I kicked the toy truck away. It slid under-

“-The table there, hit my head against that. It’s…”

“Wow,” Claire said, her head nodding. “Talk about a rude awakening.”

I had to pull my hand out of a bundle. I just realized I was wrapped in a blanket.

I started to massage the back of my head. “I could go without this particular discussion, actually.”

“Are you usually that clumsy, or is spastic a better word?”

“Clumsy? No, or I hope not. It’s more a cosmic thing. As for being spastic? I really hate that I’d have to give you that.”

“Maybe it was just that bad of a dream, then.”

After giving the back of my head a good enough massage, I fixed up my hair.

“If it was… I don’t remember. But, whatever, let’s just forget about it. I know I already have.”

“Fair enough boss.”

Looking past Claire, at the rest of the living room and the kitchen behind her, I asked, “Is it just us now?”

“Yes ma’am. Kim took the kids already and then went to work, herself. But work for her started even earlier, Caleb and Willem really wanted to meet you.”

“They did?”

“They were pretty excited about the idea of someone sleeping over. But she had to get them dressed and packed up and out the door, and they’re old enough now to know that it’s rude to bug someone while they’re getting their rest up.”

“If Kim had to work so hard, where were you in all of this?”

Claire pointed towards the kitchen.

“Getting breakfast ready. You want some? Made enough for everyone, and that includes you. Room and board, I suppose. Might as well get your money’s worth.”

There was a small but awkward pause, probably only ever felt by me. I broke the silence but that feeling remained stuck to me.

“I’ll go without, this time.”

“You better be sure about that, boss, we’ve got a long day ahead of us. You should get something to eat before we head about.”

“I’ll manage. Trust me.”

“No no no,” Claire said, already moving back to the kitchen. She started getting together a plate of eggs and bacon, with a croissant on the side. A glass of orange juice on the other side.

I was beginning to feel a little cornered.

“You’re not staying at a hotel. You could have, but you didn’t. You’re staying with us, and one of the many rules under this roof is… you have to have breakfast. You might be able to skip breakfast at a hotel, but you cannot here.”

She then added, “Sorry, boss, that’s just how it is.”

“You’re a strict parent.”

“Someone has to be.”

“How detailed is this rule, though? Do I have to eat what you’ve cooked, or am I allowed to have some… um… leftovers I brought with me.”

“Breakfast is breakfast, and in my domain, you must eat. But, if you happened to bring something, then feel free to help yourself with that instead.”

“I’ll do that then.”

Tossing my blanket to the couch and making my move into the kitchen, I kept an eye on Claire. Not because I had any reason to be wary of her, but I was hesitant on how I’d approach the topic, if I would even have to approach the topic at all. Preferably, I wanted to avoid it.

Claire was still getting the food together. I wasn’t sure if that plate was still for me.

But her back was to me, her attention somewhere else.

I inched to the fridge.

Then I froze.

“You’re positive you don’t want anything here? The bacon is a little overcooked but I do have some pride in my eggs. I can cook them in my sleep. You might say they’re over easy for me!”

“Did you?” I asked. “Cook them that way?”

“Sunny side up,” Claire answered. “Good morning, boss, by the way.”

“Morning,” I said, still watching her back. I inched forward again. “And… I’ll have to pass on the fresh food, not that I don’t believe you.”

“Suit yourself. Might as well go for seconds. It’ll be a long day, right?”

“Could be,” I said, and I finally made it over to the fridge. Slow and laborious, with more strength than I’d ever need because I was trying to be cautious about it, I opened fridge door.

The door popped open without a sound, but I soon learned it was impossible to bypass the low but ever present hum of the cold machine itself. As if it was mocking me with its flat tune, jaws wide open with food, breathing out but never inhaling. It exuded a bad attitude.

Claire turned partway to me. I froze again, and felt frozen as the fridge continued to breathe on me.

“Yeah?” I asked, after a beat of nothing happening.

“I…” Claire started, but she then hopped to another train of thought. “I was going to say something but the eggs again, but now I’m just looking at you leaving the fridge open for too long.”

“Oh, um…” I looked inside the fridge itself. My stuff was untouched, exactly where I had left it. Paper bags with packs of blood inside.

I had just woken up, and my first challenge of the day was breakfast.

No choice but go for it. I had to reach for one of the bags, all while being seen doing it.

“Bit early for a drink,” Claire commented, a frown forming on her face, “In time and in age.”

“It’s um… it’s not alcohol. Well, the effect might, more or less, be the same but… it’s not what you think it is.”

“What is it then?”

The one question I didn’t want to be asked.

“Uh…”

“If you didn’t want to have breakfast with me, you can go have yours on the couch. Watch a little TV. Just don’t spill anything.”

“Oh…”

“Could you close the fridge please, boss?”

“Oh.”

I closed the fridge, shutting the thing up.

“Well, I mean,” I started, but I still wasn’t sure on what I would say, or if I really wanted to say anything. Was Claire giving me an out to just be on my own for the moment, or was it better to be upfront about this, now?

“Yes boss?”

I sighed, holding the paper bag close to me.

“Just so you know, I’m not trying to, uh, freak you out or anything, and I probably should have given you the heads up last night, but it looks like there wasn’t any issue this morning, so that’s good, but the last thing I want is for an incident to happen especially with your kids around so-”

“Boss?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re rambling.”

I sighed again.

Pinching open the bag, I titled the thing to Claire. Not too far open for her to peek inside, though, the true contents were obscured in shadow.

“It’s blood,” I told Claire, “Human blood.”

Claire stood there, still turned partway. She didn’t move… but it seemed as if her eyes widened by a fraction.

And… there it was. Several fractions. Now it was noticeable.

“Blood…” she repeated with a breath, “Like… red liquid that flows through living things?”

“Yeah.”

“And this blood… it’s from people?”

“Yeah.”

“And you drink this blood, like a, um, vamp-”

“Whatever word you’re thinking of, that’s the one I’ve been using. It’s more of a placeholder, though.”

Claire nodded, slow.

“Okay.”

She turned back to her food. My eyes her to the back of her head again.

“Storing it in my… is that a biohazard?”

“Judging from prior experiences, it hasn’t been an issue.”

“Okay.”

Another long, drawn out beat.

“Hey, boss?”

“Yes?”

“I think I lost my appetite, would you mind buying me a new one?”

“Sure, Claire, I can spring for that.”

“Thanks, boss.”

She was still, I moved. I went for my bag, and pulled out some more stacks of cash. Within the ballpark of a thousand dollars. Give or take. I set them on the table for Claire, and I made my way back to the couch. I found the remote and turned the channel to the news.

On the inside, I felt like an idiot and wanted to slap myself silly, but I kept myself alert as I worked my pack. The pack with my breakfast in it.

It was a plastic bag, with my juice filled inside. There was a small zipper at the top, one that could be sealed and resealed, leaving it airtight when closed.

I tilted the bag so the juice would collect at one end, until I was able to zip the bag open without worrying about a spill. I was careful when I brought the opening to my lips, taking small sips.

Tasted as sweet and fresh and delicious as ever. Which compounded the guilty feeling in my stomach that grew as it filled. Something this good and sugary couldn’t have possibly been healthy for me.

Yet, there I was, sitting on this couch, drinking it as easy as water. And needing it just as much.

“That is just a show, isn’t it?”

I coughed, leaning forward and covering my mouth with a hand, strategically placing it under my chin so I wouldn’t splatter or spill. My face was as flushed as the juice I was drinking when I said, “What, what? I didn’t-”

“It’s still just as crazy as it was last night, or this morning, rather.”

Oh.

After a check quick for any mess and finding none, I looked back up and saw the TV.

That’s what she was talking about.

The news.

A program was on, a live feed of the different… incidents that were flaring up and down the city, spreading like wildfire.

Riots in the streets, people ransacking stores and other business, traffic held up because of literal fires, grey smoke reaching up to white clouds, snuffing them out. There were only so many in the police force to handle the ever-increasing violence, and it was easy to imagine Gomez again, sitting in the dark of his home, his only sanctuary with a semblance of control, except maybe he was losing even that, now, given how dire and fucked up this situation was getting.

But, part of that was brought on himself. I had offered him assistance, and he tried to spit a bullet in my face.

“Definitely a shitshow,” I said, swallowing, tasting a bit of sweet, the flavor dancing across my tongue and teeth.

“And we’re going straight into that.” There was a noticeable pause that followed, the only sounds were of ceramic tapping, utensils across a plate, probably.

“We are,” I said.

“You know, boss, you never actually mentioned what you’re set out to do. I know I have to drive you around and all, but for what?”

Another pause, but that was more for myself. Knowing that Claire was looking in my direction, now, I finished up my breakfast, cleared my trash, and stood up, wiping a lip.

I looked at Claire.

“Might be easier for everyone if I don’t give you the particulars on that. For now, just drive.”

I saw that Claire was in the middle of a bite of eggs. Fork halfway between her plate and her mouth. She dropped the fork back down.

“Worse than the blood thing?”

I gave her another stack of cash for that.

“May I use your shower?” I asked, a total non-sequitur.

Claire took the extra stack, and flipped through the bills. I saw her nostrils flare up as she brought the money a tad closer to her nose.

“Down the hall, first door on your left. I’ll go get you a towel after I finish up my eggs here.”

We were all packed and ready to go. Claire was fresh out of the shower after me, and had everything she needed for the day. I did, too.

The cold bit at us as we stepped out of the apartment building, as if it wanted us to stay inside, wanted me to stay inside. No fucking way. I’d fight against the weather, too, if I had to.

Claire led us over to where she had parked the taxi. It wasn’t very close, mostly for precaution, tucked in a corner alley between a general store and a local bookstore. She had to duck a lot of her calls from her actual boss, demanding to know where she was, but more importantly, his cab.

Before we headed out on official business, I had offered her a suggestion, and it seemed to do the trick, in that Claire’s phone went silent right after.

A slight variation of the truth. That she had picked up a passenger who asked for an extended trip to the nearest river, and had paid the fare with an obol. She would be returning promptly upon completion of this journey.

It worked. As I figured, it wasn’t the first time something like this happened. Which was more sad than anything else.

But it was one less thing to worry about, and we were able to continue.

We got into the taxi, and Claire peeled us out of the corner, and we were on our way.

Onto our first stop.

Claire’s apartment was farther away from the Eye. We’d spiral towards the center, hitting different stops as we went. Get info where I could, strike where I saw an opportunity. Then we’d spiral outward, hitting any places I might have missed, or where I now saw openings. Repeat and repeat again. A continuous spiral. An endless loop. A snake eating its own tail.

Watching the city fly past me, a pane of glass being the only thing separating me and the total turmoil right outside. We toured through the jungle as the fire consumed and fueled the natural state of things.

Enough of the city had been broken and that things weren’t beginning to work, anymore. The streets coiled, we were unable to go straight to our first stop. Detours. Maybe it spoke to something grander about how things were. Maybe it was yet another setup to yet another joke.

But I wasn’t here to listen, and I wasn’t in the mood to be humored.

I saw the fire, I saw the smoke. I saw those who were holding the matches. I saw those who were looking to snuff out the flames. I also saw the flames reaching something like an intense sunburst, out of control. It made me wonder if, or how long until, those fires would turn around and begin to eat each other. And what that would even look like.

It was like racing against a fuse. I had to beat the heat, in a manner of speaking.

“We’re coming up close, boss.”

My hands went to my things, as if for security.

“Took us long enough.”

“I’m sure you’d understand why.”

“I do.”

“How far did you want-”

“Here’s good.”

Claire slowed the taxi as we approached. The blended colors of the portrait past the glass began to separate and take their own forms.

A block up ahead, its own building. Made of red and brown brick, stacked to look like an old factory, it probably was one, many decades ago. Now, it was an Italian restaurant by the name of Morricone’s.

I knew of it because of D’s briefing on the territory, once before. Back when I was still with the Fangs, when we had D get as much info on those other gangs as possible, the ones at the table. How did that already feel like a lifetime ago, though? Probably because it was.

I prepared myself as Claire put the taxi to a stop, putting us by the curb. A block between us and the restaurant. I would have to walk the rest of that distance by foot.

I had my hands on my bags for reassurance, but I knew that I couldn’t bring them with me. Not inside, and not with how I was getting in.

I got out, and poked my head back into the taxi.

“Shouldn’t take too long,” I told her, “But if it does…”

“I’ll wait for you boss,” Claire replied. “As long as it takes.”

All I could do then was give her a nod, smiling. Maybe my feelings on her were a little misplaced, given how bright her eyes would get in the sight of money, but I didn’t want to put those feelings anywhere else.

I stepped away from the taxi, and for now, we took different paths. Claire to the street, and I moved to the sidewalk, going right into Morricone’s.

The place was expensive. From the sights to what I heard and smelled. The architecture was stark, with plenty of room for people and atmosphere. There was a minimalistic sense to the interior design, only going for rustic pieces, tables and chairs, lights that were kept low for the ambiance. Where the eye didn’t have much to appreciate, it was left to the other senses to add. Light jazz music swung overhead and through our ears, and the smell of the food, wafting from all the plates and from the kitchen somewhere, seemed to somehow justify the exuberant prices the menus would be willing to set. I knew the place smelled expensive by how much I hated what attacked my nose.

Trash and decay. It offended.

The line through the waiting area… there wasn’t one. But the place wasn’t empty, not by any long shot. No physical line, then. The people who could eat here, they’d wait through a reservation. Weeks in advance.

I was able to get right to the front. A server was watching me approach the whole time, curious that someone could even think to just… walk in here.

The server spoke up before I got to him. “We only accept those who have a reservation.”

“And if I have one?”

“We’re not expecting anyone else half past noon. It’s noon.”

“I could be here early.”

“If you’re putting it like that, then you don’t have a reservation at all.”

“Could I not just be given a seat and have a meal?”

“Again, if you’re putting it-”

“-Putting it like that, right. But I have money?”

“Money doesn’t buy you everything.”

“Are we really having this conversation right now?”

“Do you really have any business with us?”

I blinked, the first heavy pause since walking into the restaurant.

I could recognize the effect D had on me during our time together. That irreverence. It was a tangible thing.

“I was wondering if I can get a job here.”

The man’s face screwed up to a tight expression. Holding back a laugh, I suspected.

“We’re not hiring.”

“Are you the manager?”

There was a pause on his end before he said, “No, I’m not.”

“Then you really can’t speak to that, can you?”

Another pause. Another beat.

“May I speak with them?” I asked. “The manager?”

“The manager isn’t in right now.”

“Could I swing to the back and leave a note by the door?”

“If you have anything to say to him, I can make sure to pass it on.”

Somehow, I didn’t believe a word of anything he just said.

I didn’t want to pull this card, but now I might just have to.

“Well, if he’s not in now, could you tell him that D’Angelo sent me?”

The server looked taken aback.

“Did you say…”

“D’Angelo? Yeah. He said the manager here would have something for me if I asked and mentioned his name.”

The more I stood here and spoke, the more at a loss the server looked.

“May I… may I get your name?”

“I could just come back and catch the manager another time.”

The server shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe a word of anything I just said. But, unlike me, he relented.

Motioning over to another server beside him, he pointed to me, then jerked a thumb in some general direction behind him.

Looking back at me, he said, “Consider yourself lucky.”

Another server began to lead me away, I walked and shrugged at the first server.

“Been forced to make my own luck.”

And with that, I was led through the restaurant. The server made us stick to the side of the main dining area, probably so there would be less eyes on me. To be fair, I wasn’t quite dressed for the occasion, only wearing a heavy grey sweater and the skirt I had quickly stashed when I left my apartment in a hurry. A far cry from the formal attire that was implied.

We reached the back, going past the kitchen and farther into the building. The smell of the cooking insulted my nose.

I was grateful when the server managed to get us out of there, taking me to a door at the end of the hall. A name on the label, made of gold.

Ronaldo Morricone.

The server knocked.

A voice came from the other side of the door. “Yes?”

“Got someone here for you. Looking for a job. Said they were sent by Mr. D’Angelo.”

A beat.

“Come in!”

The server looked at me before he left. If I had any more to lose, I would have considered it to be a warning.

I went through the door.

A small office, but it wasn’t cramped. Simple, clean, with a natural and slick look from the oak desk and shelves.

Contrast that with the man at the desk. Large, he looked fat but something to me suggested it was all muscle. An expensive looking suit, probably worth more consider he would have had to have it tailored to him.

Soft trails of smoke floated around us. He pulled a fat cigar out of his mouth, his voice gruff.

“And the fuck are you? Should got you wiped off the face of the earth for speaking D’Angelo’s name without the proper permission.”

“I’ve more than earned the proper permission. And it’s Wendy, by the way. Or was. But that’s the name that has the most use for me in this case, anyways.”

Ronaldo Morricone stared at me, hard, his brown forming a thick, solid line.

“He’s mentioned me.”

“The name ain’t unfamiliar. He continues to be impressed with you.”

So word hasn’t spread about…

“I don’t see why, personally, but I am flattered.”

“What can I do you for, then? If you know my cousin, you have no need for a job.”

I put my hands in my pockets.

“I’m in the middle of looking for work.”

I scrunched up my nose. I hadn’t noticed it at first, with how heavy the cigar smoke was. But now I saw it.

“Looks like I caught you during lunch. Sorry about that. What is that?”

He nudged the plate to the side. “Carbonara, fresh from the kitchen.”

“Sounds good. How’s the taste?”

“If you got business with me, little girl, I suggest you make it quick. Now, take your hands out of your damn pockets and address me properly.”

I shrugged. “I was just curious.”

“Curiosity’s a bitch and a killer. Don’t waste my motherfucking-”

The desk rattled and skidded. Food kicked up and spilled into a mess. The plate had cracked in half.

And all I did was take my hands out of my pockets.

Things settled around us, but nothing rested easy.

I was standing on top of the desk, now, lifting the heavyset man by the collar. The plate at his desk was split down the middle, the meal spilling across the surface, the sauce smearing.

Ronaldo Morricone was choking, coughing up bits of food, completely taken by surprise.

“You fuck- If you got a direct line to my cousin, what do you need me for?”

“I don’t need him, not yet. He can wait. I need you, and you better cooperate, or I’ll cut out every bit of fat from your body, set it on your carbonara and feed it to you.”

He gurgled, but he didn’t say no.

“Inez,” I told him, “I know she comes here quite often. That she even has reservations for tonight, like she does every week. A personal favor for continued business with your cousin, is that right? Blink if I’m right.”

He blinked.

“When she comes, and I’m not asking for much, but when she comes, all I’m asking is that you lock the doors and walk away. Can you do that?”

I shook him.

“Blink if you can do that for me!”

He blinked.

I dropped him. He collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air and clutching his neck.

“Now don’t try anything funny,” I said, “Because I’ll know. And not only will I do exactly what I just threaten you with, but I would have had time to come up with more. Now do you understand me?”

He didn’t have to, but he blinked for a third time.

“Good, see you tonight, Morricone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make a call. Direct line.”

Night had fallen. And others would soon follow.

That was the plan anyways.

Starting with footfalls. Claire and I got out of the apartment one more time, and walked the path to the taxi. It was starting to be familiar, now that we had gone back and forth, and now we were going back again. It wasn’t yet an all the way, worn down path, but it was familiar enough that my eyes and mind were able to wander as we walked.

Trailing upwards, I gazed upon something, or at least I thought I did.

By the roofs, closer to the moon, the smoke blurring away the edges of that flat circle of nighttime. A strange figure.

I tried to lock in on it, my stare lingering on that point in space. Then the image fuzzed out, and other senses stole my focus from me.

“You’re about to hit that pole, boss.”

“Oops,” I said, moving out of the way. I readjusted my bag.

“What are you staring off for?”

“I… nothing. It’s nothing. Thought I was seeing things again.”

“Again?”

“Nothing. Again. Complicated.”

I straightened myself. My path and my bag. Couldn’t get distracted so easily.

“What if you did?” Claire asked. “Or were?”

“What does that mean?”

“What if you did see something, or what if you were seeing things again?”

I looked up one more time. In that direction. More a glance than a stare, now. I wasn’t even sure what I saw, then.

“Then that would be terrifying in either case.”

“How about we go for the third, unspoken option?”

The silence that walked with us the rest of the way back to the taxi served as a decent substitute, in lieu of a spoken answer.

We left the silence outside as we got in the taxi once again, and we drove off into the night.

But we weren’t done yet. Nowhere near close. The night had just begun.

I made myself more in tune with the moment. Forced myself to. If I let myself wander now, I might not be able to set myself straight.

Focus.

This was something I had to do. Not because I enjoyed it. But I wasn’t even sure what I enjoyed, anymore, or if that was something I had ever actually felt.

I’d imagine it would be too late to dwell on it, now.

The drive wasn’t long, as we returned to the Eye. We passed a few of the stops we had taken on our initial trip. The order wasn’t based on location, now, it was priority. We were going to start with the easy ones first.

Easy, yet it would somehow be the most difficult.

It was a somber ride as the taxi rolled on.

“We’re here,” Claire said, with a bit of patience. “A street over, like you asked.”

Either I had focused too much, or I ended up wandering, despite my efforts. The drive wasn’t as long as I expected. I clutched my bag tighter.

“Do you want me to stay right here?” she asked, “I can keep the blinkers on.”

“No,” I said, “Somewhere else, like last time.”

“Like last time. I still remember that day.”

“Me too.”

This time, I grabbed my stuff and hopped out of the taxi. We separated again, coordinated. Planned.

I walked, my head tilting up.

Even in the distance, the building towered above us.

Panorama.

The nightclub was bouncing and glowing with life, very different from when I last left it, burning to death. The place had time to spring back up. I even felt happy for him.

That fleeting feeling then dashed away as I ran into an alley.

I went right to work, not a second to waste. Opening my bag as I moved, I changed into my costume, getting my weapons and putting my mask on last. When I was ready, I began my ascent up the urban jungle, prepared to leap.

And I leapt.

The rooftops, the movements, they were all so familiar, and I was almost gliding over the surfaces and the gaps, maneuvering through and over things with the ease of riding a bike. Smooth, fast. I had gotten better at this.

As the wind ran through my hair, the fact that I was so high up over everything or everyone… that never got old.

I supposed there was something I enjoyed, after all.

As soon as I had that realization, I had arrived at my destination. The first stop of the night.

I looked down at the club.

Just as I had remembered it, many months ago. A hazy sense of déja vu.

The glass ceiling of the Panorama. The flashing neon lights, the different levels and floors, people dancing and trying to have a good time. The namesake panoramic wall of lights. They still kept that damn thing.

If this went well enough, I wouldn’t have to go in there. I had made enough of a mess the first time.

I traced the side of the building, walking on the edge. To scope out the rest of the club, first.

The back half was still there, maybe it was remodeled in some places, but it looked about the same as before.

A private loft. Open air, complete with a pool and a bar and a few patrons looking to enjoy the night.

There weren’t as many people as last time, same with the club. I could imagine why. Not many would want to go out when the night sky was thick was smoke and pierced with screams.

And there I saw him.

Sitting at a table, not too far from the pool. Surrounded by a few of his personnelle. Not too many, but they were there. He was having a meal by himself.

Not for long.

I took a moment to steel myself. It was a necessity.

I closed my eyes, breathing in, then out.

I took to the air. High as my legs would allow.

Up, then down.

So much easier than last time.

My feet didn’t crash through glass, and I wasn’t reduced to a heap when I landed. It was a solid landing, meaning my presence had a proper introduction, and all the attention was on me. Attention I’d intend to use.

I moved forward with my momentum, leaping over the pool and to the table where he was. The first target.

But I had to clear the ones he had around him, though.

The first one crashed when I pounced on top of him, folding like a chair. It reminded me of how I landed when I first broke into the Panorama.

The second had the good sense to react, reaching for a gun. Still crouched over, I dug into a pocket and flung my arm out. The knife appeared right between his collarbone, and he went down, choking. I had aimed for his shoulder.

The third now had the time to go for his gun and fire. I was knocked back. I didn’t know what he intended to hit, but my shoulder exploded with pain.

My jaw was tight as I fought through, wound already healing. Leaping again, I slammed him down, and crushed the bones in his hand for good measure. He wouldn’t be firing that gun ever again.

The rest, I didn’t worry about, they hadn’t even entered my mind. The civilians lounging in the bar and the pool were already springing for the exits, screaming and panicking at the sudden gunshot and the fight that had broken out. The only one who didn’t move at all was him.

“D’Angelo,” I said, staring at him from behind my mask. “Don’t move. Don’t call for help.”

D’Angelo had remained sitting at his table, some food still hanging from his mouth. He fixed himself then said, “You.”

“More than you’d know.”

“What is it you want? I do have an appointment.”

“I have an appointment, too. May I have a seat?”

Sitting back now, D’Angelo gestured for the chair. I took my seat.

It was just us, now, minus the downed guards around us, but they weren’t a factor, anymore. The music bumped through the club across from me.

“Help will be coming,” D’Angelo said, “Or some for of it. You let people leave. They’ll tell someone, and they’ll come investigate. And if it comes to it, they’ll retaliate.”

“You don’t need to worry about what they will or will not do,” I said. “You worry about yourself. And your meal. Please, keep eating. Wouldn’t want your dinner to get cold.”

Cool, tempered, D’Angelo spun red, thick noodles around a fork. He ate.

I asked him, “How’s it taste?”

“You seem to have a penchant for showing up whenever things are most hectic. Like a sign, or a symbol of what’s to come.”

No answer, I asked instead, “And what is to come?”

He swallowed a bite. He stared me right in the eye.

“Death. Destruction. The Devil himself, looking to enjoy the fruits of his labor.”

“I don’t know if I’m getting any enjoyment from this. It’s just more something I have to do.”

“And the other two?”

“I’d have to give you that.”

D’Angelo reached to the side of the table. I tensed.

He lifted a cane, the same cane I’d seen him walk with before. He rapped the edge of the table. A clang rang out.

“You seem to take, that’s all you can really do. And we’ve had a lot of trouble trying to fight back, as I’m sure you know. To me, you are the embodiment of entropy, and it seems like the only way not lose any more is to have less to lose. And even then… you would find a way to reduce.”

“Goes both ways.”

“How so?”

“I didn’t come here to talk about me.”

“What did you come here to talk about, then?”

He was looking at me, and I was looking at him. Staring into my eyes, or in the general direction of where they would be.

I slid the mask down my face.

His eyes widened.

“Wendy?”

“You gave me your card, remember? The first time we met?”

“Yes, I remember.”

I breathed, then spoke, clear and without hesitation.

“I don’t have much time left, and you, D’Angelo, you’ve got even less. Figured I might give something to you before this came to an end.”

“But you still want something from me. You’ll still take something.”

“I’d apologize, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t take to it so well. Just know that, if I did, it would be genuine.”

“How thoughtful.”

“Tell me about Mister. Is he even fucking real?”

“I know a man we called Mister. That’s about as real as it gets.”

“Dammit D’Angelo, please. Where can I find him?”

“Good luck. Haven’t seen the man we called Mister since before all this started. Before you ever showed up. And by this point, why would you ever expect him to come back?”

I squared my jaw so hard it started to grind.

“Mrs. Carter.”

“You don’t find her. She finds you. Same with Styx.”

“So if I raise enough hell, they’ll come crying to me?”

“Everyone will be coming to stop you. Just try to pick them out of that mob.”

“I might just try that.”

“Haven’t you raised enough hell, Wendy? Haven’t you done enough?”

“Either everything burns, everything, or I burn out in the process.”

D’Angelo continued to eat. I was impressed that he still had an appetite.

“How far back were you planning something like this? I’m curious.”

“Your cousin said something about curiosity.”

“I know he did. Indulge me.”

“The first time we met.”

“At the hotel?”

I corrected him.

“Here.”

“Ah.”

D’Angelo wiped his lower lip with a napkin. Poised, with a bit of grace and dignity.

“There’s nothing else I can tell you. Nothing you wouldn’t already know, I’d suspect. All I have left now is to finish this meal.”

“May I stick around until then?”

“Of course. If it means anything, I’m still very impressed by you. I don’t think that’ll change.”

“Thank you, Santino.”

He took another bite. Only a few left.

“Morricone’s cooking has only gotten better with time.”

“That’s good to hear. I bid you goodnight, Santino, before I forget.”

“Yes, it’s a good night indeed.”

The air was cool, and for a moment, it was even calm. I sat with Santino D’Angelo until he was finished.

Previous                                                                                               Next

107 – Power Up

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Having stripped away everything, all that I was, it didn’t give me a lot in the way of people I could go to for help. Friends or those I would have considered family.

Couldn’t go to D. Wouldn’t. She’d have her hands full with the Fangs, and, according to Sarah, they weren’t so fond of me, to put it lightly. If I stuck my neck out anywhere near her, D’s hand might be forced to strike me down. I wouldn’t put her in that position. I wouldn’t put myself in that position.

I’d leave her alone. Probably for the best.

The fact remained, however, that my options were limited. But they weren’t zero.

I would just have to make my own luck.

Stalking the streets of the city, I searched for stress and strife.

Trash and debris drifted by my shoes and several feet away, like tumbleweeds. The wind itself breathed a hollow note, ringing in my ears. It gave a musical quality to the rhythmic crunch and crinkling of glass under each step.

There were other noises, farther into the distance. Sirens, screams and shouts, even a shot. I was seeing the aftermath of that disorder, the smoke rising above rooftops with no chimneys. The city was seething all around me, letting out yelps and barks, as if to warn anyone who might try and come closer. I heeded the warning, but I continued onward. I had left myself no other choice.

Until then, though, I was alone with my thoughts. And not the illusory kind.

I kept myself on high alert, eyes and ears open, watching and listening for anything that moved, anything that could make a noise. Extending my reach much farther than what my physical wingspan would suggest.

And after pulling all that in, everything gathered and taken stock, I was made starkly aware of my situation.

That I was alone, but I wasn’t by myself. Not quite.

More my ears than my eyes. In front, there wasn’t anything to keep my guard up for, aside from the very principle of just being in the city. Trash and debris here, smoke there.

Not ahead, then. Behind.

Listening, I picked up on faint but perceptible sounds. They weren’t too defined, too shapeless to be honed in on, but they were there, and they told me enough. That they were deliberate, that they were trying to dampen any audible clue of their approach but they could only do so much. One person would find it easy to blend into city’s ambiance, but several? Not as much, and that proved to be a setback.

And, it also told me that they were certain their numbers would make up for their lack in covertness. They were confident.

They were a crowd, they were coming up on me, fast, and they didn’t want me to be aware of them just yet.

Too late.

I maintained my stride, though, in keeping with the act, except I was an active participant in it, now. I walked down the road, paved by anger and frustration and retribution against ill intentions. It was a familiar path, so I walked with purpose, able not to dwell too much on the distractions around me. No more detours.

The street was long, with a lot of forks to the side. Alleys. A foggy, muted memory drifted into the gaze of my mind’s eye, clouding it for a moment, before being blinked away.

Something, not unlike this, had happened before. At that time, Alexis Barnett had gone down one of the alleys. Now, it was my turn.

The street turned at a corner. The light was red.

I stopped there and waited.

The shapeless sounds behind me stopped where they were and waited.

Still looking ahead, I almost smiled to myself.

Keeping my eyes on the light and my ears focused in the other direction, I considered the identity of my potential pursuers.

The Fangs were my first thought, it wouldn’t have been so far-fetched that they had found me already. Even if I was nowhere near their territory. They would be racing, like I was, to find the one who had wronged them and take them apart, piece by piece. And I did a lot wrong.

In my case, I had more than one that I was after, and I had to get to them before the Fangs got to me.

Whoever it was behind me, I’d have to shake them off.

I mentally checked and double-checked everything I had brought with me. The bag strapped around a shoulder.

Was there anything I could take out right away to defend myself? I knew where everything was, even though I had packed them all in a hurry. The knives I had grown to be rather familiar with, the guns less so. I could still go for either to arm myself, though.

Was there a chance I could take them without arming myself, going with just my bare knuckles? There was, but it wouldn’t be smart. A group was following me, and while I probably had the collective strength of all of them, I’d learned better now than to take those kinds of chances.

Something in hand, I knew I’d need that much, but to instigate? Not here, not with these guys. Wouldn’t be worth the time it would take to kick them to the curb. Nope, I had places to be and people I needed to find, and doing both required time. Something that was slipping between my fingers. I knew that much.

Time starts now, V, it’s ticking already.

As it went.

But I stayed there at the light, waiting. When the light turned, I’d just keep walking, and let them make the first move. If they were wanting to start something, anything, only then would I look to end it, for their sake.

The light turned.

I walked, and kept walking. The sound behind me picked up again. I wouldn’t dare turn around.

Listening still for the creeping stalk, I directed myself towards other sounds, the sirens, the screams and shouts, more than one shot, now. I was headed there anyways, but if I was being followed, I might be able to deter them from going any further, or farther. Scare them off.

Keeping straight, going where things would be warmer.

They didn’t stop.

Louder. Hotter now.

They continued.

Closer.

Hot.

I-

“Get the fuck back, skinhead.”

-Turned, and saw who had been on my tail.

People, as I had figured, but not quite what I was expecting.

One person. White, bald, skinny, but considering how he went with a sleeveless denim vest even in this weather, I could see that he was fit, or he’d been working on getting there at least. Tattoos crept down his arms and fingers, reaching up to his neck and jawline. Younger or older, it was hard to tell, his face looked like it had seen too many fights, blurring his natural features. Either it aged him, or the callouses kept things in place. In a sense.

Mean looking guy, overall.

One person. The only one here who matched that description. The rest weren’t mean, but stern.

The ‘skinhead’ wasn’t facing me when I had turned, not directly. Instead, he had positioned himself to the edge of the sidewalk, his back to the road, so he could get a view of the opposition he had on each side.

And the one across from me.

A group. About the stark opposite from the skinhead. They all had hair, for one.

For the rest, however, they were all Asian. Different in size, in build. Trying to be conspicuous about the firearms they had at their sides, but not really. I could see them, and the skinhead could see them, too.

“Farther than that, asshole.”

Someone else from the group across from me.

The skinhead, the asshole, gave the group a hard stare, then at me, then back again. Keeping a mean looking attitude, as if he wasn’t deterred after having been followed himself, and now cornered. His feet were planted firm into pavement, his chin was level, and his head seemed cool.

He didn’t move.

I just watched.

At the head of the group, a guy called him out a third time.

“Crazy time we live in, huh? Never had to ask a cracker motherfucker if they know English or not.”

No budge.

Several clicks and arms motioning at the skinhead’s direction. Firearms.

“You understand this? You’ve got three seconds to walk into middle of the street and let a car drag you across the pavement. Change incoming traffic for the rest of them.”

A few laughed at the small joke, but they were still dead serious.

Not a lot of seconds left-

The skinhead backed away a step, then another, and turned at the third. Hands in his pockets, seemingly still coolheaded, he walked towards the middle of the street, then passed it, crossing the whole thing.

Before he could step onto the other side, a crack rang out into the open air, and the skinhead hit the ground, his lips and chin splitting open as it kissed the curb. Blood pooled onto the street and sidewalk itself, where he dripped from the hip and face, respectively.

My chin, my jaw had to picked up from the ground, too. At least I was able to. Even I hadn’t expected that.

The group then formed a loose circle around me. Not to threaten, but almost like a protective barrier.

“You okay sister?”

The crack of the gun was still ringing in my ears.

“Beg your pardon?” I asked.

It was the guy at the head of the group who was addressing me.

“Skinhead there was tailing you for about a block or two. Good thing he was dumber than shit, or he would have noticed us sneaking up on him, sneaking up on you. Lucky us, lucky you.”

“Lucky lucky,” I said, mostly just to test my own hearing again. And, as if to test my sight and make sure I wasn’t under any spell or illusion, “You still shot him down.”

“Hey, I told him to go to the middle of the street and wait for a car to hit him. He went past the middle, and he didn’t wait. He asked for it.”

He isn’t moving anymore.”

The guy put his gun away, tucking into the back part of his jeans. The rest of the group remained on guard.

“Don’t tell me you feel bad for him? Trust me, sister, that asshole was going to do much worse to you if he got his hands on you. Part of the reason we started putting together groups, doing patrols. Lookouts. We have to start watching each others backs, because ain’t nobody else gonna to it for us.”

This guy sounds a lot like Dong-Yul, a voice told me.

I didn’t disagree.

“Hard to drum up sympathy for him,” I said, “But I would have been fine if he really was stupid enough to pick a fight with me. Not that I didn’t appreciate you stepping in when you did, though.”

The guy motioned to the group. “What’s done is done, and it’s better to move in a crew, anyways. Where you headed?”

I fixed the bag around my shoulder, feeling the shifting weight of my guns and knives and costume inside. “Anywhere there’s trouble, but it looks like it found me instead.”

The guy laughed. “Maybe! Hey, now that I think of it, you look familiar. We met before?”

I paused, wary.

“Don’t think so,” I answered, careful.

He snapped his fingers.

“Shit, we have for sure! Wellport, remember? A girl, Jasmine? She brought you over, she commented on your glasses. A lot happened during that crazy fucking night, but I can remember that.”

My glasses now were a crushing weight on the bridge of my nose, feeling like it would split my entire face in half.

“I can remember that, too,” I said. “Definitely a… crazy night.”

“What was your name again… Wendy, right?”

Somehow, I found myself nodding, calm, and not in a fake way. Like the calm someone might have felt if they jumped off a building. Except, in my case, I’d survived more than once.

And after the first time, nothing else mattered anymore.

I nodded again, more assured.

“But that’s something of a government name,” I said. “And right now, I’m a bit of an anarchist.”

The guy laughed.

“Andrew, by the way, and good! Because we’ll need some of that right about now. Hey, why don’t you run with us? Before our detour here, we were on our way to a… demonstration, I guess you could call it. I got a truck, and room for one more in the back. Jasmine will be there.”

He brought her up as if that would entice me. It… somehow sort of did.

I gave the guy, Andrew, my answer. A third nod.

“Wendy!”

Jasmine gave me a hug. A hug from the side, since I still had my bag with me.

“Didn’t know we were there already,” I said, pulling away. Faster than I probably needed to.

What would

A certain someone flashed in my mind, couldn’t help it. I dismissed the thought, just as quick.

“We’re all fam here, you know, we have to be.”

“I see you with the rhetoric, you don’t need to convince me.”

Jasmine grinned, I recognized that expression.

“Well, it’s good practice, for those who still need convincing.”

I grinned back.

As if on a general principle, I was beginning to gain an understanding on what fueled these people, now, and that particular understanding was running thicker than water. Anger and frustration, a need for blood. Those things fueled me, too.

A certain pressure had been made to boil under a certain population in Stephenville, and they were now finally jumping out of the pot, and they weren’t very happy. They were ready to turn around and kick the pot over, spilling everything out and setting the whole thing on fire. On principle, I was right there with them.

I was in the group with Jasmine and Andrew now, and that was group just one of many others.

A huge crush of people flooded the streets of Stephenville.

Too many to count, and yet there were even more who hadn’t gathered, doing their own damage elsewhere. Part of the bolstered numbers were because of the fact that not everyone here was a part of that certain population, but they showed up regardless, probably just to raise more hell than to stand and march in solidarity, but I’d imagine that their help would be otherwise appreciated.

Cheers and chants scraped my ears, and there was no rehearsed direction or plan to this parade. Being here, acting like a part of the procession, I was at the mercy of the crowd, meaning that I was at the mercy of random chance and chaos. It was definitely a demonstration. A demonstration in disorder, but a demonstration nonetheless.

With my hearing and the rest of my sense working overtime, I thought I heard Alexis Barnett’s name in that chorus, among others. But I didn’t focus too much on it, I wouldn’t let that affect me, now.

I hugged my bag, tighter.

“Should have left that at the truck,” Andrew said, raising his voice into my ear. Still wasn’t a fan of loud, but I had no choice but to deal.

“Better safe than sorry!” I replied back.

“What’s in there anyway?”

“You hear about Andrew shooting a guy on the way here?”

I raised my voice into Jasmine’s ear. She seemed alright about leaning over to catch it.

“I didn’t shoot him on the way here, I shot the motherfucker before we got in the truck to get over here.”

“Same difference!” I said to Andrew.

“I heard!” Jasmine replied. “You don’t know him yet but he’s trying real hard to be hard ever  since this thing blew up! Wants to prove himself!”

“I don’t have to prove shit!”

“Then why are you trying so hard?”

Jasmine grinned again, and gave Andrew a playful smack across the arm.

I watched these two, I’d seen them before. Back at Wellport. Jasmine had to kill someone to save me, and Andrew didn’t bat an eye. And now, it was Andrew’s turn, but he didn’t have to go that far for me this time, but he did. They were so cavalier about it.

Not that I was any position to cast judgement, myself. I wasn’t. But it had still given me pause, each time, I could still feel it take a toll, a heavy note that rang through me, clear as a bell.

It made me wonder, brief, what had led them to that point. What was the path that brought them here?

Then I remembered mine, and how much it didn’t really matter. Not in the long run.

Something to take away from them, I supposed.

I kept talking so Andrew wouldn’t inquire any more about my bag.

“You know who started this whole thing?”

“You mean the parade?” Jasmine asked.

“Not what I’d call it, but sure.”

“What would you call it then?”

I thought about it.

“A stampede,” I answered.

“Stampede? That does carry the appropriate weight, to it.”

“The kind of weight that tends to crush.”

“Hell yeah, dude. But actually, I couldn’t tell you who put this thing together, only because I really don’t know. Shit like this goes through a grapevine, and I’m too low on the thing to really know where it came from. I just go where I’m needed, and do what I need to do.”

“Sure, I understand that. Doing the same thing, myself.”

Jasmine gave me another half-hug, her arm staying there for seconds longer.

“Dude! I knew we’d click the second I saw you.”

I felt warm. The crowd around us, pushing, and clothes I had to wear for the weather. The season still had some time before things started springing up again.

A certain someone flashed in my mind again. The connection was cut, but the feeling was still there, exposed and raw. Had to dismiss it again, even faster.

Warm, but I was still cold on finding what I was after. Or rather, who.

As a contrast to my limited options in terms of help, my list of targets was long, and it was only a matter who I’d get to first.

Styx, Mrs. Carter, Dong-Yul, all of the gangsters with a seat at the table. D excluded. Maybe. Probably. It was still a good policy to stay clear of the Fangs.

But with D excluded that still included a lot of people. People with their own people, protecting them, a force I shouldn’t underestimate. Would Jasmine and Andrew be able to help? They were neither friends nor family, just a convenience. But were they a convenience I could use?

Somewhere ahead of us, the crowd roared.

I replied to Jasmine.

“And I was thinking you might be right,” I said. “Hey, what are your plans after this?”

“After this? Getting the fuck out of here and making sure pigs don’t come following us and bringing their shit with them. Why? Thinking of coming with?”

“I was thinking about it. If you’ll have me. I wanted to meet with whoever was spearheading these, um, demonstrations. The guy at Wellport, with the tiger mask.”

“Oh, Helly and Skelly?”

“If you want to call them that, I’m not stopping you.”

“I do, actually, thank you very much. But, actually, I haven’t seen him up close, or any of the masked dudes, much less seeing them without.”

“So you’ve been following orders from people who haven’t shown you their face? What if they look nothing like you? Or us, rather.”

Jasmine was about to answer, but the crowd roared again. Still somewhere up ahead, but closer. She had settled for a simple look in the meantime.

When the uproar died down enough, she responded with, “Doesn’t really matter to me. We’re out here, now, we’re making noise and best of all, they can’t ignore us. That’s all I give a shit about.”

Not much else I could say about that beside a quick, “Fair.”

The uproar rose back to life, louder and more present. It took my attention and centered it towards itself.

Jasmine and Andrew and the rest of the group looked ahead as well.

“What’s going on over there?” Andrew asked.

“Don’t know,” Jasmine said, “Why don’t you check? You’re taller than me or Wendy.”

Andrew listened right away, starting to pushing between people. Despite how cramped and crowded it was, people gave him room to slip through.

The parade continued, crawling down the streets like a centipede.

A wave of sound hit, it was loud, and then the physical equivalent came. Threatening to crush.

Forward momentum was lost. People started falling back. The uproar was getting closer and reached a higher pitch.

Something was wrong.

Jasmine was already turning. She looked right into my eyes.

“Flood’s coming this way, start swimming!”

I spun, or more like I was yanked the other way. Jasmine had pulled on the strap of my bag, and I almost lost my footing.

“Hey!”

She refused to let go, instead pulling even harder, taking me with her.

“No room to push back here, we have to move!”

‘My bag-”

“Come on!”

She kept pulling, forcing me to move along.

Not everyone had their wits about them, being more interested in yelling and raising some kind of disturbance. Once the tide turned in the other direction, they hadn’t been focused enough to adapt accordingly.

People had been falling back, and now they were falling. Crushed by an incoming stampede.

I pushed through the crowd, keeping in step with Jasmine. If she tripped while still holding onto me, I would be the only one who could even get back up.

“I’m with you, just let go already!”

She finally did.

Andrew managed to catch up with us, but not without having to knock someone else over. He went and answered the question before Jasmine and I could save a breath to ask it.

“Cops coming in to shut things down! Riot gear, rubber bullets. Choppers!”

“Choppers? Like-”

Copters. Helicopters!”

It was getting so loud that it was hard to catch everything Andrew was saying, and he was right there.

“Back to the truck!” he yelled. I heard that.

The group that Andrew had with him, and I had tagged along with, already dispersed into the rushing crowd, lost or maybe even flattened. I was only aware of Andrew and Jasmine, and I’d need at least one of them if they were going to be useful in getting me close to at least Dong-Yul.

With each step we ran, however, the prospect of that seemed to diminish, like I was getting farther away from that goal.

“Try over here!”

Jasmine grabbed for my bag and pulled again, but only to steer me in another direction. She soon released me.

The three of us pushed to the edge of the stream. I followed as Jasmine led us into an alley.

“Keep running!”

We kept running.

The alley was wide enough to accommodate the three of us, running side by side. Some others were starting to get the same idea, now, the stampede starting to spill out to the sides of the street.

We weren’t the only people who had that idea, apparently.

A block of metal rolled out to the other end of the alley. An armored vehicle. People started spilling out of that.

Jasmine skipped to a halt, turning on a heel.

“This way!”

She spun us around again, but instead of heading back to the street, there was another path perpendicular to the one we were on. She had us turn onto that.

I ran with them, and had to watch my speed. I didn’t want to make myself stand out.

We made it out, but from what I heard coming from our backs, we were lucky. The street opened up and we had much more room to move.

Andrew started to take the lead, taking us over to where he had parked the truck.

Again, he wasn’t the only one with that idea.

Over at the lot, a block away. More armored vehicles, beams of light illuminating the ground, gliding over everything. A quick check upward revealed the source, the helicopters Andrew had mentioned earlier.

“Fuck! They’re cutting us off!” Andrew shouted.

“Can we make it on foot?” That was from Jasmine. “It’s not like they can catch everyone!”

“Not far!”

They started running, past the block where Andrew’s car had been parked, the armored vehicles and police cars being right there. Cops were standing in formation like soldiers.

I ran with them, and saw more cars coming our way, the tops of them bursting with red and blue lights.

This won’t last, I realized, It’s already running out of gas now.

We changed directions, moving onto another street. More people here, cops and rioters alike, as the latter started to spread out more evenly to blocks around the initial demonstration. The police worked to introduce their idea of peace.

They started firing into the crowd.

People fell. I didn’t see or smell blood, but people were being rendered immobile, thrown flat to the ground. None of them were made to be as bloody as the skinhead from before.

Andrew spun, arms flailing, face to the pavement. He had gotten hit.

Then I tripped.

A hard punch to the back, in an area not any larger than a dime. I felt my spine crack with pain, and my legs turned to jelly.

I had the sense to turn, so I wouldn’t land on my bag and accidentally pop the packets of blood open.

My shoulder rammed into the side of something sturdy. My healing worked to set my back straight again. I hadn’t fallen over completely.

Jasmine was already pulling me back up.

“Dude, you okay?”

Beside me, something beige in the night. A taxi parked next to the sidewalk. No one inside, and the windows were cracked, stray rubber bullets making targets of other things.

But I did see a number printed on the side of the vehicle, and that had gotten my mind running again, pulling me out of the daze of having been shot.

“Andrew? The truck?” I asked.

“Lost him, it’s too hard to find him in this. His truck is stuck with a bunch of cops!”

“You have a car?”

A bitter and impatient expression crossed her face.

“Parked in the same lot. Come on Wendy, we can still get out of here on foot!”

“You have a phone?”

I had lost mine at the church, and I didn’t have another one to pack at my apartment.

Not that I would tell her that.

“Why?” she asked, but she was getting it out for me. She helped pull me up too, from the side of the taxi.

She handed me the phone, and I took off.

Another street close by. More cops heading to block the stampede off.

I ran harder, crossing an intersection. The police cars came in between me and the other two.

“Wendy!”

I didn’t stop.

Not for the cops, not for Jasmine or Andrew. I abandoned them and their uselessness.

It wouldn’t have worked, not with them, but they did manage to give me another idea.

Still running, I dialed the number that had come to me out of that daze, and made the particular arrangements, tossing the phone soon after.

Never before did the mundane stand out to me by such a large margin. The hum of rubber on road, the mechanical clicks of a turn signal, the white noise chatter of a jumbled radio chatter.

My blood was still pumping hard, so hard that it thrummed in my veins, and I found it difficult to sit still and relax, even if there was nothing threatening about my immediate surroundings.

Just a strange sense of déjà vu.

“Gotta say, boss, I never thought I’d hear from you again.”

“Funny how it all works out,” I said, as if on instinct.

The taxi rolled across the street.

I was sitting in the back, shoulder against the door. Half-open eyes watched as the scenery past the window sped by, the colors of the city smearing together, painting an even more chaotic image than before.

Anarchy, on the other side of that glass. Which made the relative quiet of the taxi’s interior all the more deafening.

I tried to kill some of that monotony. When I spoke up again, I almost thought I was screaming.

“How have you been, Claire? Last time I saw you I… I guess you could say it was a lifetime ago.”

Claire kept her eyes on the road as she crossed the lights and made the turns. The meter climbed up and up.

“Nothing worth reporting. Found myself keeping an eye on the news more often now.”

“Oh yeah? What do you see?”

“The shit I’m seeing right now.”

I chuckled, dry a bit.

“You boss?” she asked.

I shrugged, not knowing if she would have caught that or not through the rearview. “Been giving you something to watch, I guess you could say.”

It was Claire’s turn to chuckle. Just as dry.

The taxi continued its snaking path around the city, the meter running just as long. The ride itself was smooth, so smooth that it had become a noticeable thing. The more Claire drove, the less traffic seemed to get in her way.

“Have you been busy tonight?” I asked.

“Very,” she answered, “Ever since the riots broke out across the city, everyone’s taking any opportunity to leave while they still can. That includes us cab drivers. Been getting like six or even seven people crammed into the back at a time, all begging me to get as far away from the Eye as possible, no matter how costly it got. Haven’t been getting this much action since the city allowed rideshares… or the times I had you as a passenger, actually.”

I grinned at that.

“Suppose this time won’t be any different?”

Then I dropped that grin.

“Let me ask you something, Claire,” I said.

“Sure boss.”

“You call it action, but, I’m sure you’re aware of the danger as well. You’ve been taking people out of the city, driving past and through all the crazy… might not be long until it’s officially considered a warzone, from what I’ve seen. Anyways, it’s real, and it’s present. You haven’t thought about leaving as well?”

The ride was quiet for another moment.

“Of course I thought about it, but I also see an opportunity, here. Being busy means having had more customers, which means the pay’s been better than ever. And as far as danger, I know how to drive. You’d know by now.”

“I do,” I said, feeling more certain. “Your family still doing okay?”

“They are.”

She had left it at that.

The drive continued with that relative silence. The meter ticking like a clock, but only in one direction, never wrapping around.

“Hey boss?”

“Yes?”

“You hopped in and said ‘drive’ but, you never said where.”

“About that,” I said, “I actually want to leave it up to you. Where is the safest place you can think of, or the place you want to be the most?”

“The most? Um, maybe Sicily? I haven’t had a vacation in over ten years.”

“Somewhere your taxi can take us,” I said.

“There’s a diner at the edge of town. Are you hungry?”

“A little thirsty, honestly, but that can wait. Where else? I’ll need somewhere I can return to, rest up and stay low for an hour or two if possible.”

“How long are you expecting to use my services?”

“For as long as I need you. I’ll do my best to not take too much of your time.”

“I have to return the cab at the end of my shift, you know. That’s in a few more hours.”

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a fraction of the money I had taken with me. It was only fraction of my total funds, but it more than covered the current fare.

I passed to Claire, who weighed it in her hand. She didn’t flip through it, the stack’s thickness indicated to her all she needed to know.

“Sorry Claire, but your shift has gotten a lot longer.”

“I can see that now, boss.”

The door swung open, creaking, light from the hallway creeping in. Claire flipped a switch somewhere inside the foyer, and the rest of the apartment opened up.

“Make yourself home, boss. For now.”

I brought my bag in with me. I was about to slip off my shoes, but Claire gestured, suggesting that I didn’t have to.

Following her deeper into the apartment, I looked around. Not a lot of room, and sparse of decoration, but it did looked lived in. Toys were strewn in places on the floor, and uneven lines of what looked like crayon and markers were scribbled across the wall, none them reaching higher than my hip.

Claire led me to the kitchen. Plastic tupperware and plates were collected on one side of a sink, and unfinished bowls of macaroni and cheese were left on a counter. Three glasses of milk filled at different levels had been left at a table.

Lightly tapping a toy car away with her foot, Claire went to the table, collecting the glasses of milk and setting them by the sink. She moved on to the fridge, opening it.

“Go ahead and take a seat. You said you were thirsty, and looks like we have…”

“Milk?” I asked, taking a seat.

“Orange juice. Fresh out of milk.”

“I’m fine, but thanks. Uh, do you happen to have brown paper bags? Like something to pack a lunch with?”

“I have kindergarteners, of course I have those.”

“Mind if I borrow a few? And some space in your fridge to store some stuff?”

Claire looked at me, eyes filled with suspicion, but she moved across to the pantry. She handed me several folded baggies. More than enough.

“Thank you,” I said.

Claire, for her part, had gotten a glass of juice for herself, and went to sit across from me at the table. She took a sip, and sighed when she finished.

An awkward beat.

“Never seen your face before,” Claire then said, barely below a normal speaking volume, probably as to not disturb the kids. “You usually have the mask, right? Or a hoodie, if I remember correctly.”

“And?”

“You’re young,” she said, breathing the word ‘young,’ “You’re older than my kids, obviously, but you’re still so young.”

I didn’t get offended over that. If anything, I thought she would have commented on another aspect of my appearance. Part of the reason why those riots were happening in the first place.

“Is that going to be a problem?”

Claire shook her head.

“No problem, no, but… I’m sorry if this is too personal a question, do you have parents?”

I felt something kick, somewhere in my heart.

“I do. I did.”

Claire frowned a bit. Not disappointed, but sympathetic.

“I know this isn’t my place to say, then, but I can’t imagine how they might feel, if they’re still around to feel anything. As a mother, it would break my heart to see any of mine being out there, getting into trouble like you tend to do.”

“What are their names?” I asked, a little too quickly, “Your kids?”

“Caleb and Willem.”

“Where are they now?”

Claire lifted her chin, pointing down a hall to my right.

“Their room. Sleeping. Or they should be.”

I went for my bag, opening it. On the table, I placed more stacks of cash. More and more until there seemed to be more green than there was the brown surface of the kitchen table.

Claire watched, more than astonished.

“Well, Claire, if you help me, you will be guaranteeing that little Caleb and Willem will never have to get into my kind of trouble, or any other kind.”

Still eyeing the money, I saw the glint in her gaze. Also the concern within.

“But the price for that guarantee… you’re inviting me into that world of trouble.”

“It’s only for a day, maybe even less than that. I just need someone who can drive me around, and a place for me to recuperate. That’s all.”

“That’s all? That’s a lot.”

“I’m hoping what’s on the table can cover any inconveniences.”

Another silent beat. Claire roved the money with a curious, hungry eye.

I talked.

“There’s more where this came from, if you need it. Just say the word. It was a lucrative business, having led a gang, and even if my connections aren’t what they used to be, I can still get you more. I know where things are stashed, how you can sell them. After tomorrow, you never have to work another day again.”

“That is a lot of money, Claire.”

We both turned.

From the hall that Claire had pointed to earlier, a woman had leaned against the wall. An Asian woman, about Claire’s age, maybe mid-thirties, wearing pink pajamas with white dots.

Watching us watching her, she then moved to the sink, picking up one of the glasses of milk. She started finishing it.

“Did I wake you?” Claire asked.

The woman finished the drink, moving onto the next one.

“I’m a light sleeper,” she said, taking a sip, “Ah, but I usually stay in bed with my eyes closed if I wake. Heard the door, used to that. But then I heard talking, and a voice I hadn’t heard before.”

She looked at me when she said that, drinking her milk.

“Sorry then,” Claire said. “This is… my boss, for the next twenty-four hours or so. Still working that out. And this is Kim. She’s my-”

“Partner?” I offered.

“Roommate,” Claire said. “Just a roommate.”

“Pleasure,” Kim said. She reached over for my hand to shake. I gave it to her.

Her hand was cold. It sent a shock through me. Eerie to the point of nearly pushing away my concentration and filling me with anxiety, instead.

“You felt that too?” Kim asked.

“Not sure what that was,” I said.

Kim let go, finishing her second glass. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

“Kim works in social services, and other jobs around the city. Though she has never been super specific in what she does.”

Kim gave Claire a look. “It’s money on the table, less chunk of rent you have to worry about.”

Claire nodded. “You’re right about that.”

“Speaking of, you want to explain what’s all this about?”

Claire drank more of her juice. Now I was starting to get thirsty for my own drink.

“My boss here is asking me to be her personal chauffeur for the next day. Might be a whole day thing, but she says she’ll try to make it less.”

“I understand the sudden burden I’m bringing you and your family, and Kim as well, so I’ll do what I can to make it quick.”

“What are you thinking, Claire?”

She turned to Kim.

“Money is money, and this might almost be worth it. Boss, how early did you want to start?”

“Early as possible, but I’d still want us to get as much sleep as possible tonight.”

“Kim? You mind taking the kids to school tomorrow before you do… whatever it is you actually do?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Claire took another moment, taking in all the money again. There was a lot here, and I was willing to offer more for the trouble.

She turned to me.

“Then I’m in, boss. We’ll start as early as possible.”

A relief surged over me.

“Thank you so much, Claire.”

Kim had already finished the last glass of milk, setting them all into the pile on one side of the sink. She yawned.

“I’m heading back to bed. I’ve got the kids, Claire, no worries. And Ms. Boss? It was nice seeing you, and I hope I’ll see all of you again in another time.”

Waving at me, Kim then went back down the hall, disappearing behind a door. The door shut.

“She’s…”

I started to say, but I stopped.

“Will she be cool?” I asked instead.

“She will be,” Claire said. “She’s someone I trust. Someone I trust enough to let live with us. Kim moved here from Las Estrellas a couple years back.”

“Las Estrellas?”

“Yeah. She was telling me about the riots that took place there back when she was a kid. Seems like this kind of stuff happens in cycles. First it was her, now you.”

“There were riots back then? Like the ones now?”

“Well, I’d say we’re living in crazier times, but she’d know more about that than I would. You would have to ask her.”

“That can wait, then.”

Claire sighed.

“It definitely can. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go check on my kids. Feel free to use the couch. I’ll be back to get you some blankets.”

“Thank you again, Claire.”

“You can thank me when this is over. See you in the morning, boss, I’ll be ready when you are.”

Claire got up and did as she had said, going to check on her kids first. Now that I was alone, I took the paper bags and stuff my blood packs into them, sliding them into any free spots I could find in the fridge.

Then, I crashed on the couch, too tired to change, not that I packed the clothes for it.

I set my glasses on a nearby coffee table, readjusting myself when I felt something sticking into my lower back. A toy truck, this time.

Crash was an appropriate word for things.

In one night, my whole life around me crashed down. I salvaged what I could, and now I had to work with what I had.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And if there was anything I was at least decent at, it was getting back up again after a crash.

Previous                                                                                               Next

106 – Mate

epy arc 15 burn

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When I came to, I was alone. Dizzy, discombobulated, nauseous. Then, there was the gradual realization that I was upside down.

I moved a leg, and discovered that I couldn’t. It was stuck, tangled in something, and I couldn’t even wiggle a toe.

Hand? Tight. Struggling against another something, couldn’t figure out what. I was able to wiggle a finger, but not by a lot, and it wasn’t like I could reach or grasp anything.

Both hands. Both arms. Pressed together, crossed, squeezing against my chest in a big ‘X.’

My whole body. Couldn’t move, and couldn’t feel much outside of a tight knot in the pit of my stomach. I was very aware that my feet were above my head. Upside down.

Head?

Could move that.

I looked around, squinting, trying to peer through an oppressive dark. Too tired, my vision still swimming through the murky waters of fatigue. There was some light, but it didn’t break past that gloom.

Where the hell was I? Was this hell?

That…

I shook my head. Had to. Too ridiculous to seriously believe. But, no other possibilities were coming to me. My thoughts weren’t catching up to me fast enough.

Where then?

How did I get here? Why? When? Where am I, again? What the fuck?

Who am I?

Didn’t know.

Didn’t know. Didn’t know. Didn’t know. Didn’t know. Didn’t know.

I didn’t know my own name.

A name wouldn’t form, not even a letter to guess. No matter the question, I kept drawing up blanks.

It was worrying, but I had just woken up, blood was probably flowing to my head for minutes too long, and I was fucking upside down. My thoughts and answers were probably scattered somewhere below me, down there. I needed to get down there, I needed to get grounded.

I kept shaking, feeling the restraints. Digging into me like claws or talons. I shook my head, the only part of me that was free.

Something slipped off my face.

It spun in the air, catching a fleeting glint of light, and I recognized it as mine. A pair of glasses.

They fell, or rather they seperated from me, as if, they too, were frustrated by my lack of progress.

I tried listening, as if my glasses could tell me anything on the way down, like how long the drop was.

They said nothing.

Which brought with it its own message, but I didn’t like what I heard.

Nothing.

I stopped struggling, shaking. I reconsidered my options, as few as I had. If I managed to break out of whatever it was that that tied me up- upside down, I might just fall into something worse. There was nothing but a deep blackness below, or was it above me? Hold on, no, below me, for sure, for sure.

Nothing but a deep blackness below, and if I got myself free, I wouldn’t be free for long, only plunging after my glasses into a literal abyss, I probably didn’t need sight, where I’d end up.

Or down.

Now wasn’t the time for jokes.

But what else could I do?

I screamed.

The sound seemed to stretch in every direction. Fading out, not even a faint echoed returned to me.

I screamed again. Harder, louder.

Even my own voice wanted to leave me, never to return. My own voice.

I laughed until it became a scream again. Raw. Painful.

Was I dead? Or some kind of limbo? Maybe there was no abyss above or below me, because I was already within it, suspended in the middle of the bottomless pit. Gloom and dark all around me, I had already been swallowed.

Sickening, if I wasn’t dead I was sick, with an agony longer than the chains that had me bound.

Hold on. Hold it. Bound.

Chains?

I shook myself again, shimmying, and heard a distinct rattling, a small clink of metal. I craned my neck, saw them for myself.

Snaked all around my body, coiling around my limbs and torso in a deathgrip. Glints of light had been caught, too, making it easier to see the outline. Chains.

I couldn’t look up too far, I’d have to bend my body for that, and that was impossible. I didn’t know how far the chains extended away from my person, or what I was attached to. But, nothing about where I was seemed real, so a very possible answer could have very well been… there wasn’t anything at all.

But I couldn’t…

I refused to stay here, like this. There was no peace to be found in a place like this, by myself, with not even a letter of a name to attach my thoughts to. Just an ever growing, ever present madness.

So fuck that. And fuck me if I couldn’t get myself out of here.

I fought. I struggled, but I fought.

The chains clinked and clanged together as I squirmed within their confines, tugging at them, trying to find some purchase I could use to buy my freedom.

I pulled my arms out, links of metal digging into the cloth of one arm, flesh in the other. I winced as they pinched and bit into skin, but I kept going. Even if it was mad for me to do so. There wasn’t much room for anything else, in my mind.

My muscles tensed, my body ached. Fighting, struggling.

Purchase.

Hearing more than some jangly clinks, I heard cracks. Metal against metal, tugging and pulling in both directions so hard as to compromise their structural integrity. I didn’t know I had it in me. I didn’t know I was that strong.

I’d use it, anyways. I wasn’t about to let that go.

The pains small but sharp, but I didn’t care. I kept going until I cracked. Until the chains cracked, until I heard a crack.

I heard a crack.

Somewhere along the length of chain, there, closer to my arms. Getting looser, giving me more room to dig in a little more.

Few more cracks, even more room. I started shaking hard, near convulsing, putting my legs and back and even my hips into it. Until I’d burst into scraps of metal.

Gritting my teeth, I either heard more cracks of chain, or it was from something in my jaw. I didn’t stop.

There, I could move an arm, not by much, but better than I was able to before. I pulled and tugged even harder.

Then I yanked.

Intertwining metal fingers finally splayed open, breaking, releasing their grip on me. I wasn’t wholly free, but my arms were, and-

I fell. Plunged.

But I wasn’t completely free of my bindings, I broke the chains around my arms, but my legs were another story.

I had figured by how I was bound, that the snake around my legs and feet would keep me suspended in its coil. No such thing. Instead, the snake seemed to take offense to my attempted escape, and decided to take itself down, me with it.

Not a straight descent, an arc. In a spiral, but I was also swinging down, like a pendulum.

I was falling and falling fast, even though the chain was still taut. Swinging and swinging, lower and lower, faster and faster. Descending yet it felt like I wasn’t heading in any particular direction. All sense of time and placement had escaped me, like my glasses and my voice, so I was spinning for what seemed like hours, descending and ascending several times. Spinning out of control, not that I ever had any in the first place.

Couldn’t even scream, and I wanted to.

Couldn’t laugh, and I would have even went for that.

There was no sound when it all finally stopped, and I hit rock bottom.

All breath left me as I crashed, life and soul. It was a flat drop, no momentum to lessen the impact, just one hit, all focused into one point.

I heard more than the chains break. Bones, too.

In my last few moments of clarity, I noticed how my chin had settled onto the ground, or rather how it didn’t.

My nose wasn’t buried into dirt or surface. Rather, open air, the sweetest of scents meeting my nostrils, a punch compared to intense sensory deprivation I’d been subjected to since being reborn in the dark.

A shiver colder than chains grabbed and shook me. Hard.

There’s a deeper drop than this.

Then, one more dizzying spin of confusion, and my consciousness was the last thing to abandon me.

“Eyes open, wanderer. Or have you lost your sight, too?”

I opened my eyes.

Blackness. In a way, it wasn’t nothing.

But, in all actuality, there was nothing.

Without a breath to respond, arms and hands groped out, feeling ground to push up from. I had found ground, I realized, a surface to start getting my bearings from.

I slipped, landing on my shoulder. I wheezed, deflated.

“How sad. I’m disappointed.”

I felt that my eyes were open, but I couldn’t see.

A voice, I had my ears. I followed that.

“Is this all you really are, when you’re alone? Crawling like an insect?”

I continued to crawl. I had no other means to move.

The voice was talking to me, taunting me. Goading me for a response, though it probably was aware of my general lack of ability, as much as a discarnate voice could even be aware.

My dry tongue sat limp in my mouth, closing it for a second, I tasted a warm, sweet coating against the back of my teeth.

I crawled a pace faster. I clenched my jaw.

“How pitiful, just stop. Trying harder only makes it that much more pathetic.”

I spat my words out, venom flying out between my teeth.

“What’s pathetic, is expecting something out of nothing. How sad is that?”

“If you could only see yourself now.”

I can’t, I thought, but I had ran out of breath to say that. I carried on.

Crawling for some miles, or a foot out in front of me. I didn’t even know anymore, the effort felt all the same, and the progress seemed meaningless.

I continued, despite all nonsense and logic, dragging myself through a cold absence, a cryptic abyss. I was tired, but the voice persisted.

“If this is the best you can do, the most you can come up with, than I suggest you give up now. Actually, you know what, please, please just stop. It physically makes me cringe to see you keep going-”

I shrieked and clawed forward, like a wild and dirty and disgusting and sick animal and I thrashed and gnashed my teeth like it meant something but it didn’t mean anything because I reached for nothing and got nothing.

Collapsed to the ground.

Laughter. Wasn’t mean.

“Come on, get up.”

The words were said like it was easy. But the words were friendly, not at all menacing or demeaning.

Easy. Matter of fact.

Up.

I reduced the sentence down to its very essence. The intention. Struggling, fighting, dying, I pulled myself up, leaning a bit, my head bobbing a bit. I was on my butt.

And it finally just occurred to me that I wasn’t in chains anymore. Still didn’t have my glasses.

But I looked.

“Isabella,” I breathed.

The little girl smiled.

I saw her in full view, her black hair, tied into pigtails, the tan skin, the jacket several sizes too big, the backpack that she always kept on her back, hands gripped on the straps like she was about to go on a ride.

She was crouched over me, looming, despite her stature, her head cocked to the side, curious, like I was stray cat that had approached her.

Maybe a part of that was right. Being astray.

I, we were in complete darkness, yet I could see her clear.

My hands moved on their own, to my face, wiping my eyes, slapping myself across the cheek until it stung.

When I looked again, she was still there. This was all real. Somehow.

“Where are the hell are we?”

Back to the first question.

Isabella shrugged.

“Is that really the most important question?”

A moment to catch my breath.

“Feels like it an important thing to establish,” I said,

Isabella shook her head, pigtails swinging. “Nope.”

“No?”

“When do you think you can start walking?”

“What?”

“Moving forward, there’s still quite the distance for you to go. Quite the distance.”

“I can barely stand, you just asked me to sit.”

“Can’t stay here forever. Unless you want to, but that wouldn’t be exciting, would it?”

“Try me,” I said. “I’m serious.”

“I’m being serious, too.”

“How the hell did we get here?”

Question two.

“You really don’t know anything, do you?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Work harder.”

I grunted.

“You don’t remember?” Isabella asked. Asking the obvious. She cocked her head the other way. Swaying slight, back and forth. “Because I do.”

I stared at the girl, for so long she almost became unrecognizable. I blinked, and it was Isabella again.

“You mind sharing?” I asked of her.

“Nope.” She continued sway. “I don’t mind one bit.”

Glaring at her, I started, “Could you not-”

“You attacked them. Killed some of them, too.”

Attacked and killed. Those words froze me, still.

“Who-”

“You know who. Well, I know, but the lines have gotten pretty blurry now.”

“The Fangs,” I said, as though I didn’t believe it, myself. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”

“What does, really, when it comes to someone like you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. You open yourself to distractions so you get distracted. It’s simple, honestly. Hard to grasp for someone like you but it is simple.”

“You’re saying I attacked them… because they were distracting me?”

“You killed them because you kept wasting time with things that didn’t matter. And somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, something was telling you that enough was enough.”

Isabella raised a finger, but tapped the side of her head.

“And you finally listened.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” I said.

Isabella frowned, then pouted like how a kid would.

“But saying it was stress or guilt is too boring! I’m trying to help you here!”

“You call that help?” I questioned, my head feeling heavier by the second.

“It’s something,” Isabella said. She smiled again. “I’m trying. We’re trying.”

I looked at her. That girl. Isabella. So small and young.

There was a hard tug in my chest, seizing my heart tight and threatening to tear right out of my body and leave me dead, if this wasn’t some kind of afterlife already.

Her smile was as real as anything here, which gave me reason for doubt to enter and fill the cracks of my shattered mind.

Stress. Guilt.

Tug.

“Isabella,” I said, just to say it, and frame her in both my mind’s eye, and my actual sight. “You died because of me.”

The girl flinched. I saw a pang of sadness right before she composed herself again.

“There were very many factors. You… were one of them, but not the sole reason.”

“You died because of me.”

I repeated it. I felt like it needed repeating.

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened to me-”

“You died because of me.”

There was a pause. Silence and darkness. Emptiness.

Isabella’s lips were set in a straight line.

“You’re wasting your time, talking about this,” she said, voice tight. “That’s not what’s important, here.”

“It can be, Isabella, it should be. I was responsible for you, and for so many other people. And I wanted you to stick even closer, as if that’d make you safer. At the end of the day… I couldn’t save everyone, and that included you.”

Isabella breathed, shaky. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I am so sorry, Isabella, I really-”

“The fuck is this pity party?”

Isabella turned. It wasn’t my voice.

I turned, too.

Out from the shadows, walking with his back straight and his head high. His hair was slicked back and his suit prim and proper. He walked with a cool confidence he normally wished he had.

“Lawrence,” I said.

He gave me, us, a nod. He stopped about a foot away from Isabella. Closer to her, but farther from me.

Lawrence was standing, Isabella was crouching, and I was sitting.

I said his name again, sounding like I was out of breath.

“Lawrence…”

A grin went across his face, yet he didn’t seem pleased.

“Better than calling me by a fucked up nickname.”

“You liked them and you know it,” Isabella said.

“You don’t know shit.”

“I know as much as you, maybe even more.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“Nope,” Isabella said, smirking.

I watched them bicker, a normal moment during a strange time, which only made it even stranger.

“I am so sorry, Lawrence.”

I gave him those words, too. As I was, here, now, it was all I had to give.

Lawrence glanced at me from the side. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“It was my fault, too, that you…”

That particular wound was still too fresh. Hurt, to even consider.

“And Reggie…”

All the other Fangs I had pulled out of my mouth.

“Oh that?” Lawrence questioned. Cool, smooth, he reached into his pocket and popped something into his mouth.

No. I knew what that something was.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” he said, crushing the pill between his teeth. “Not for me, anyway. I don’t need to hear it.”

“Sounds like someone does need it.”

Lawrence shot a harsh look at her, but left it at that. Isabella didn’t seem fazed by it.

“I guess I’m as good as dead, too.”

They both turned their eyes to me.

“What makes you say that?” Lawrence asked.

“Well,” I started, “You’re gone, and Isabella…”

“That don’t mean fucking nothing, okay?”

“If anything,” Isabella said, “You’ve never been more alive, more free.”

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“You keep saying that but that’s not the issue here.”

“Then what is it?” I asked. “The issue?”

“We need to get you sorted the fuck out,” Lawrence said. “Because, as you are right now, you’re a fucking mess.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“So don’t worry about me, and don’t about this little girl or any other, and can you forget about the Fangs and all that shit too. We’re all… superfluous. We’re distractions.”

“And you’re planning to do… what then?”

Lawrence smiled.

“Distract you for a bit longer.”

He positioned himself in front of me, Isabella to the side. Feet flat, shoulders and back straight, head down, facing me. There were no shadows in the contours.

He popped another pill into his mouth, and then, clasping his hands together, spoke to me.

“Let’s get started.”

I wasn’t sure what we were starting.

“How are you?” he asked.

I leaned to the side. It was slight.

“How am I? What does that have to do with anything?”

“How are you?” he asked again.

“What? I don’t know, I’m fine.”

“How are you feeling?” Lawrence asked.

“How am I- fuck,” I said, several touches irritated. “I don’t know. Irritated, angry. Frustrated.”

“Do you think before you act?”

“Do I-”

I was about to talk back again, but I felt like I could guess as to what his response would be.

“Generally,” I answered instead.

“Do you spend your leisure time wisely?”

“I don’t really get to have leisure time.”

“Do you have a tendency to act before thinking?”

“I… probably more than I’d like to admit. Generally.”

“Have you failed more when acting on impulse than consideration?”

“Probably the former, I guess. I haven’t really kept score.”

“Would you say you have failed more times than you have not?”

“I wouldn’t so far as to say that. Like I said, haven’t kept score.”

“Do you enjoy spending your time on long car rides?”

“Don’t know how to drive. No.”

“Do you define yourself by your success?”

“I don’t have much else. Sure.”

“Do you often dwell on your failures?”

“Dwell… Can’t say I don’t.”

“Do you often dwell on your failures?”

“I already answered that.”

“Do you often dwell on your failures?”

“Fuck… Yes, I do.”

“Are your failures a source of frustration for you?”

“Yeah, they are.”

“Does this all seem familiar to you?”

“To me? Not particularly. Look, Lawrence, I don’t see how-”

Isabella, this time.

“Still don’t see?” She looked to Lawrence. “Keep going.”

“Keep going- what the fuck are we-”

“For the next series of questions please answer as quickly as possible, while making them as short as possible,” Lawrence said. “Do you feel like you have purpose in your life?”

I frowned and growled, yet I felt compelled to follow along. A tug.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Do you believe a higher power will save you?”

“No.”

“Do you believe you are worth saving?”

“No.”

“Do you believe you can save yourself?”

“Working on- by myself… No.”

“Are you true in your intentions?”

“Yes.”

“Do you see through your own lies?”

“Maybe. I really don’t understand that one.”

“You do. Yes you do.”

“I don’t. That’s to you and the question.”

“Are you afraid of dying?”

“I’m afraid of disappearing.”

“Have you ever taken a life?”

“I have.”

“Who?”

“Too many.”

“And do you regret this?”

“Some of them. You and Isabella. My own men. Reggie. Thomas Thompson… Memory’s fuzzy.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“It is.”

“Would this regret serve as cause of frustration for you?”

“I’d say it would.”

“Would you describe yourself as paranoid?”

“Very-”

“Are you easily distracted?”

“-paranoid. But only… what? I was still thinking about the last question you asked.”

“Are you slow to anger?

“Uh, no.”

“Are there things you would like to change about yourself?”

“Yes.”

“What are they?”

“Everything.”

“Examples?”

“My attitude. My appearance. My ability.”

“Are you constantly picking up new hobbies?”

“Don’t really have any hobbies to begin with.”

“Are you overwhelmed by your work?”

“Yes.”

“Are you stressed by your work?”

“Yes.”

“Do you ever feel like quitting?”

“Yes.”

“Will you quit?”

“I won’t.”

“Even if you break down?”

“No.”

“Even if you suffer all the more?”

“No.”

“Even if you burn out?”

“No.”

“Even if you find something or someone else?”

“I… Quitting isn’t an option.”

“Aside from work, does anything else matter to you?”

“Yes. Not anymore, I guess.”

“Are you willing to burn out?”

“Yes.”

“Are you willing to burn?”

“If that what it takes.”

“What are you after?”

“Peace.”

“For yourself?”

“Yes.”

Lawrence paused. For what seemed like an eternity, for so long that I could go mad and wrap back around to sanity, he was still. Still. Still he was still.

Then Lawrence asked the next question.

“And who are you?”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

“What is your name?”

Several different names came to me, but none of them felt too honest to say.

“I don’t think I have one,” I said, uncertain.

“Yes you do. What is your name?”

“I don’t know.”

“What is your name?”

“I don’t know.”

“What is your name?”

“I don’t know.”

“What is your name?”

“I don’t know.”

“What is your name?”

“I don’t know!”

“Tell me your name.”

“I don’t know which one to pick!”

My hands went to my head, fingers getting twisted into hair. I fell forward, on my knees, my forehead pressing into the cold ground. With no answer to give, I screamed instead.

Raw, pain, the anguish. The yelps of a dying animal. Sad.

“No more distractions,” Isabella said, “Keep it simple.”

“I… I…”

My fingers gripped tighter on my head, as if I was pressing down on a lid, the contents inside boiling and bubbling, about to burst. But my skull was throbbing, feeling heavy, and there was only so much pressure I could take.

I couldn’t stop boiling.

Names kept driving into my head, hitting me over and over, each with the force of a truck. More names than any one person needed.

Letters assembling and reassembling, words being flipped and taken apart, falling between my grasp like sand.

A… Lexis… Wen… V, V… D…

“I can’t, I can’t pick, so many letters, so many so many so many-”

“Hey.”

Hands on my face. Not mine.

Lifted.

Isabella.

Her face close to mine, her hands trailing to mine, until she pulled them away and placed them into hers, setting them between us.

She hushed me quiet. Trying to calm me.

I calmed, in fits and starts. I hiccuped and choked up, but I wasn’t shaking as hard.

“It’s okay, here, it’s okay…”

“I don’t… I can’t…”

“It’s okay, that’s what we’re here for, that’s what you’re here for. We’re sorting you out, one more time. Let’s hope it’s the last.”

I swallowed, hard, a taste of something sweet in my mouth.

“Get rid of everything that doesn’t matter. You’ve don’t it once before, haven’t you? Friends, family, Fangs. No more. But you still need people, though, of course, but let’s stay simple. Their function, what they can do for you, how they move on the board. And you are on that board, too, so we should make you simple too. Break you down, reduce you to the essential parts and the essential parts only.”

“Alexis?”

“No.”

“Wendy?”

“Too many connections now, too. Simpler.”

“V…”

“Better, that’s so much better. Good job!”

“What is your name?”

“V. My name is V.”

“Good. V, there is something inside you. Deep down you know this. Deeper still you’ve seen it. Maybe you want to call it a monster, a parasite, maybe you want to call it something else. But that doesn’t matter either. What matters, is what you’ll do with it. You might not know what you are, but you know who, right?”

“Yes. V.”

“So the question isn’t how you got here, or what you are, or any of that bullshit… It’s, what are you going to do next?”

What am I going to do next?

“I’m going to burn everything. This city, this world is fucked up as it is, so I’ll just fuck it up some more and force everyone to rebuild from the ashes.”

“Least you have an answer. Think we’re done here.”

“We are.”

“Come on, get up.”

Isabella helped me to my feet.

“Time starts now, V, it’s ticking already. Not a luxury you have, so you’ll have to get right to it. You’ve called yourself a queen, but the game can still be played without her.”

“So our suggestion is, make the moves you can while you’re still able. It’s your gambit now.”

“I understand.”

“Perfect.”

“You might want this.”

Isabella handed me something. When I raised it and inspected it for myself, I saw that they were my glasses.

A small crack had formed along the edge of one lens. Barely perceptible, but it was there.

I wiped some of the dirt and blood off with a sleeve, the one sleeve I had. Doing the best I could, all I could do, I cleaned the lenses.

Then I put my glasses back on. Blinking. Seeing again.

“Thank you,” I said, with more clarity than I ever had before. There was a fire had that been lit within me. The fuse felt short, but until then, I’d move before the boiling and the bubbling gave way to the actual explosion.

“Don’t mention it. Now come on, we’re losing precious time.”

“We are,” I said, and it was as if our voices we’re coalescing into one, along with all the others who had a hand in getting me here. Us.

And then Isabella was gone. Lawrence too. Just the darkness that surrounded me. V.

And with them gone, the dark descended in pitch, swallowing me up even more. The opposite of what was happening inside.

But that was fine.

I walked through the valley of the shadow… knowing very acutely what could come for me, and soon.

It was still dark when I let myself in. The sun would be rising soon, so I’d have to take my leave before then.

Looking through the glass, I didn’t see anything out of place. Sliding it open, I introduced a soft breeze. A few papers on a nearby table fluttered with the light wind, but nothing got too disturbed. I stepped out from the overhang and let myself in.

Not through the front, no, too risky to try that. Had to get by other means. Just in case. Paranoia had walked in, wearing my skin.

My apartment. Though, I supposed it wasn’t my apartment anymore.

I moved through it with a supreme familiarity, gliding to where my room would be, when I still claimed ownership of this place.

Grabbing everything I needed, grabbing everything I would ever need, stuffing it into a bag that I could carry on one shoulder. Costume, mask, weapons. Guns and knives. An extra set of clothes for good measure. I found a skirt that I was hazy on if it was actually mine, but in my rush I shoved it in, anyways. I still had the room.

I made sure to cram in stacks of cash. Being the leader of a gang had resulted in a decent cash flow.

Leaving my closet and room, and moving right along to the kitchen. The fridge.

Packets of blood, squeezing the remaining space in my bag with them. No reason to leave any behind, I took them all.

Zipping up the bag, I put the strap around my shoulder, giving it a pat. For any other person, they would have had trouble walking with the weight, let alone running and jumping. But I wasn’t any other person. I’d manage just fine.

I started to take off.

“Wendy?”

I spun around, already on edge. I was ready to strike.

Not out from the shadows, rather a light went on. A lamp illuminated them and their soft features that I had come to be intimately familiar within the past week.

I didn’t say anything when I saw Sarah.

“I know it’s you, Wendy, it really can’t be anyone else.”

Everything and everyone inside me was shouting for me to just leave right away. My feet were flat on the floor.

“It’s not,” I said, “Sorry.”

It was Sarah’s turn to be silent.

I saw the phone in her hand, how a finger hovered over a bright screen.

“Did D ask you to wait for me here?”

“I volunteered.”

“Are you going to call it in?”

“I don’t know.”

Her finger stayed in place.

“D is looking after the Fangs herself,” Sarah said. “Trying. The rest… they aren’t so happy with what happened, how it happened, and how fast it happened. They want to go after you, and I don’t think D has the power to stop them.”

“And you doubt you have the power to convince them otherwise, too.”

Sarah nodded.

“Do you agree with them? That you want to go after me?”

Sarah shook her head.

I breathed. More stable than I had expected, but there was a slight tremor.

“Then this is your last chance, Sarah. Leave now, and don’t look back. Because if you do, and I see you again out there, I can’t and I won’t guarantee your safety.”

Sarah looked particularly hurt, hearing that. It hurt me, too, seeing that.

“So this is it?” Sarah questioned. She dropped her phone, arms hugging her body. “You’re really going to do it like this?”

“It is,” I answered. I took a step towards the window. “I am. I have to.”

“Can I-”

Sarah had stepped forward after me, arms unfolding, wanting, reaching.

But my eyes weren’t on her anymore. They were on the city, with the pale dots of fire and thin drawn lines of smoke in the distance.

I was reminded of two paintings. The one I had caught a glimpse of while in my apartment. The false idol, the lie I had bought into, thinking I could make it real for myself.

The other, through watery eyes as the height and descent got to me, looked a lot like what I was seeing now. The one from the Mazzucchelli. A city on fire.

Stephenville was my canvas, and I had my tools. And now, after stripping everything else away, I was ready to paint my masterpiece.

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