I used to call this place my home. I don't have one of those these days, do I? Echoed my thoughts, as that's all they could do. The remains of the underground chambers desecrated. Demolished. All my equipment had been confiscated, unless they were instead destroyed, just as the rest of this place was. As much as The Flashbulb's goons must have tried to seal this place off with concrete, someone had been here recently. The 'wall' was torn down, broken into. Whatever purpose they had to be here, I hoped it wasn't the same one as I.
I stepped through. At once, a rush of sadness entered both my lungs and the sockets of my eyes. Reminders of how lost a cause this was, and yet it seemed like all I had left. At the pyramid, the computer had been destroyed by the carelessness of someone with the body of a friend I once had.
″You're finally here, brother,″ a voice cut through the air. One I did not recognize; neither low, nor high, yet attempting to mimic both at once. Thick accent from a land that didn't even seem to be of this earth.
″Wait, you two are brothers?!″ An astonished voice chimed in. This one I knew who it belonged to: Kelly Roger.
I grunted. I knew for a fact that my brother was dead and I had no other brothers. This wasn't Star Wars, either...
No, Conrad, I AM your brother, an amusing thought stirred, one entirely inappropriate for the situation.
″No. Not at all,″ I replied, still unsure where Kelly Roger or this other person was.
Rubble skipped across the halls, if they could be called halls anymore. I turned my head to see the two emerge from the room that was once Kelly Roger's bunker.
The thing gave Kelly Roger a pat on the back. I was aware now that whatever this tall figure was, it wasn't human.
″Maybe not biologically, but then again, is anyone a perfect biological match to anyone else?″
″Oh!″ Kelly Roger gasped. ″So it's like how you call Polo your sister?″
My eyes grew wide.
Polo...I knew exactly who I was face to face with.
I fixed my gaze on the figure next to Kelly Roger, the figure's face crooked. The rest of the head was fine, but the face itself didn't look to be screwed on correctly. Kelly Roger didn't seem to notice. This too was off. Kelly Roger was far different than I remembered ever being.
Three years can make a world of difference.
″Marco...″ I trailed off. I always imagined facing such a beast, but I also imagined being prepared when that time came. I had nothing. I was surrounded by fear.
He repositioned his face, snapping sounds emitting and brief traces of muscle contorting.
″Aye, brother. Wouldn't that be quite the plot twist? Like a soap opera, even?″
″What are you talking about?″ I managed to ask.
″Sometimes I forget which mask I'm wearing. Pardon the display.″
Our eyes were locked onto each other. Or, whatever eyes Marco was wearing was locked with my own.
″Us being brothers. No one would have seen it coming and yet once they knew, it would be so obvious!″
″But we're not brothers,″ I shook my head.
″Come now, what would Abel be without Cain?″
″Do you ever miss it?″
I blinked. She was trying to get me to lower my guard. I wasn't born yesterday.
″The fuck you on about?″ I grunted.
Her head was pressed against her desk. There was a devilish smirk spread across her face.
″Being behind a desk, feeling powerful. Feeling safe and in control, without ever having to move,″ she disregarded the danger she was in.
″It gets boring,″ I admitted. There wasn't much else to say. The pistol was still planted against her head.
″That's just it, isn't it? You get into these situations out of boredom. Sooner or later, it will be your end. Or is that what you're hoping for?″
I heard a click. To counter, I made one as well, pulling the trigger.
But nothing happened.
She burst in laughter, her voice a caught somewhere between a manatee and a braying horse.
How could it be? How was it not loaded?
For all my thoughts of being careful, or at least, calculated recklessness, I missed something to simple as to check what I steal.
From panels in the walls and the ceiling came these metallic cylinders, springing out right on cue. I knew exactly what they were for. They would mark my end. To think I would come this far and be bested by such a simple mistake. There was something fitting about it, but my mind wasn't clear and I couldn't think of how.
The pistol dropped to the floor. Rather than lasers, what got me was a drunken daze, objects losing shape, and I could recall seeing her face, but none of its features. Whether it was a look of pleasure or disappointment. Before the collapse, I heard a single sound.
″Polo″.
I couldn't say for sure how long I had been running. My legs were dead, my lungs were dead. I was still alive and at the gates. Or, what was left of them. It had been a long stretch of taking turns running, wheezing, stopping to catch my breath, and running again.
Unlike another version of me, I never had superpowers.
Corpses. Some fried, some dried up and covered in blood. Cars lined up, abandoned.
Those who come here that aren't meant to be here seemed almost guaranteed to die. There seemed to be an understanding of such notion, but people go anyway. Less suicide and more thrill seeking.
If you're going to die, may as well do it in an exciting way, a mad thought arose. I was inclined to agree.
Everyone here was an idiot, and so was I. I was an idiot chasing after another idiot.
The gate itself was open; torn off its hinges by some unknown force. I shrugged, and ran through, neither aware nor prepared for whatever awaited me.
My existence is one of unusual origins. The events of the past intersect with that of the future. Every passing moment is the present, yet I can never visit it.
Which is probably why I could never get along with my parents. They were always harping about learning from the past and doing better in the future. Yet they were utter deadbeats who had long since given up on their dreams. Early on, I left home and set on for a new life for myself. What good was a better future if you weren't doing anything in the present?
Throughout my journey through what some may call ″adulthood″, I took on many goals, yet none ever seemed to quite satisfy. Some I abandoned, others I fulfilled only to find them unsatisfying. After a while I came to an epiphany: that I can't work for myself. It's better to work for the betterment of others. It was too late for the ones who brought me into this world, but I could work to change society for the better.
As I reflected on all this, I noticed my companion shifting from side to side. Growing ever restless, but could never be as restless as I.
″What are we doing, exactly?″ The traveler beside me asked.
″Did you know that I once went by the name 'Nyarlathotep'?″
″What does that have to do with anything? I'm asking what we're doing sitting here on the rubble of a demolished building!″
″I never fancied the name myself, but there are worse names. 'Hotep' implies I was of royalty, but I much prefer a baseball cap than a crown, don't you?″
″God damn it, Marco! Stop being so fucking self indulgent and start doing something!″
″Now, now,″ I pat the little worm. ″You already stated what we're doing. We're sitting here on the rubble of a demolished building. Let us take in the atmosphere, reminisce about the good old days. Or the ones not yet here, but surely will be.″
″So what we're doing, there's no purpose? What about the building that exploded just a bit ago? Was that your doing?″
″I believe it was a distraction...″ I admitted. Even though, yes, I also admit to having some loose connection to it. ″Would you call it 'red herring'?″
″I don't know, but it feels like what we're doing right now is pointless. Like you built up some grand spectacle only for nothing to happen.″
″Maybe in another reality, I was the culprit...″ I was starting to contemplate now. Which existence was I in again?
I looked to my side. I need not wait for a reply.
″Everything has a point, my dear Kelly Roger. First, do you know what this building used to be?″
″Don't know, don't care.″
″Now, now, that is no way to act. What if I was a Pharaoh?″
″Yeah, yeah, and I'm Moses.″
″This was the former site of the university before they reconstructed not far from here. Used to be a much bigger pile of rubble, but they did an excellent job cleaning up. I must say, they could have done better, however.″
″Why's that?″
″Don't set your sights too high. You already have your commandments at the hands of the slaveholders.″
″Huh?″ Kelly Roger's head tilted. Little flakes of dandruff fell to the side. So unbecoming of a pupil. Before all is said and done, I would do well to recommend a good shampoo.
″Because they missed a spot. I have a feeling you did, too! Come, now! Let's get to the point, my companion!″
The guards were approaching. I fished my pockets for the laser pointer. Whatever the optimal solution was, even if I reached land, I would still need to find a way to make it to the city as soon as possible. I no longer had time to be patient like I could before. Such a simple mistake could leave a plan broken beyond repair.
Creak, the turn of the handle. Unlatching open, I could hear them step down into the cargo bay, right where I was.
Their flashlights illuminated across the darkness, each piece of luggage, backpack, and box getting their own spotlight.
″Are your heat sensors detecting anything?″ One guard could be heard asking.
″Nada,″ another replied.
″One thing you should know if you're ever sneaking around somewhere you know you shouldn't be: if the powers that be don't want you there, you WILL be caught,″ I recall informing Blanc one day at lunch in high school.
Blanc bit into an apple.
″Oh, really? But can't you get by on just not being seen or heard? Even in those Deus Ex games with all the cyber shit, you can totes just whizz past as long as the cameras don't see you.″
I glared before giving a long, defeated sigh. ″Real life isn't a video game. Who do you think oversees those video games in the first place? Not the designers. Corporations! And they run the world! They decide what to put in games! They want you to think you can get by on skill, or if you have the right gear, you'll be fine. But that's not the truth.″
″Ooh,″ Blanc humored me, waving hands about in the air. ″Then what is the truth, huh, Mulder?″
They knew I hated to be called Mulder. Reality would appear in flakes on TV in order to keep people occupied and desensitized to what was really going on. So if the truth was ever brought to light, no one would bat an eye.
″The truth is that the ones with the power have the skills and the gear, and more often than not, you have nothing.″
″Yeah, but you don't know that! I'll show them!″ The determination Blanc showed, as much as I knew it was mere teasing, gave me hope.
Of course, a cruise ship isn't like a bank, corporate building, high-tech medical facility, museum, prison, or government base filled with secrets. Hell, it was nowhere near the lair of an evil organization. But I've heard things...
People caught breaking the rules, sneaking aboard, they don't often get hauled off with the coast guard, but with traffickers instead. I couldn't let that be my fate. I would have rather thrown myself overboard than allow myself to be taken captive to the horrific things they might have had in mind.
″GOTCHA!″ I heard as a bright yellow light shone over me. Just as I was sure to be caught, a figure emerged out of a suitcase, just next to me, and bolted for the door. My heart (and possibly my jaw) dropped. I never imagined there was someone else who had snuck aboard this whole time.
I could hear the commotion as the figure screamed out, beaten with what seemed to be batons. The next thing I knew, the door opened back up as I heard the dragging of feet, then a few seconds later, a voice on the intercom.
″The intruder has been apprehended!″ The voice announced. It just occurred to me how strange it was that there was an announcement at all. Wasn't the staff supposed to be low-key so as not to alarm the guests? Something wasn't adding up. I felt both more in danger and more at ease about my situation.
I got up from where I was hiding and my legs felt foreign. They trudged, but the rest of me was in a hurry.
Up the stairs, up to the grated door, I turned the handle, and was met with a ray of light. I was expecting to be put in handcuffs, ambushed by guards, but no; there were crowds of people through the halls, commotion.
″What the hell is going on here?″ I whispered.
Throughout the dark lit halls I roamed.
I won't stop until I find you, Jo-Ann.
″Goddammit, Mavis! Why aren't you picking up?″ I barked into the speaker on my arm.
No answer. I noticed there were no lights on the Prinny armor. My mustache and I were displeased.
″God damn hunk of junk, that's what this is.″
I was half convinced to take it off when I noticed something shifting ahead; a rough human-like shape.
″I got you now, Jo-Ann!″ I shouted, and charged toward the figure.
My instincts had never been wrong, yet here I was, the fool. The shadow was nowhere to be found.
″Polo″, a voice echoed through the halls. It was obvious that the voice belonged to none other than Jo-Ann. She was taunting me now.
I don't need a voice to tell me where you are. I don't need some kind of sensors. I can find you just fine on my own.
I bashed around the concrete, bloodying up my knuckles. My mustache and I huffed and puffed, our collective conscious doing its best to focus, but could only think about one thing.
″Polo! Polo! Polo!″ I heard, then turned my head to see the shadow once more. Before I could react, it vanished and once again heard ″polo!″ Echoing all around me.
″Very funny,″ I snarled. ″I'm quivering in my mustache.″
Before I could look around, I felt something wet wrap itself around my neck. Lucky for me, I had a neck almost as thick as my mustache.
I turned around only to find out that the slimy thing was a tongue, extending out and attached to the figure I had been trying to kill.
″You're...not...Jo-″ Before I could finish, the thing, which I wasn't even sure at this point was human, tightened its grip.
With every fiber of my mustache, I tried to reach up and yank off the tongue that suffocated me. Instead, the figure took a leap and the tongue extended over the reach of my arms, and yet somehow still tightening its grip on my neck. I gasped. Was this turning me on, perhaps? It had been quite some time...
Rather than finish that thought, I felt tears on my neck forming and blood pouring out in a perfect ring. I pulled at the thick, slimy thing making its home on my neck, trying to loosen its grip to no avail. My vision was fading, I yanked at it once again, knowing full well my chances of survival were slim, but I would have rather died trying than give up with no resistance.
It seemed to have worked, with me face to face with the creature: some pale and lumpy humanoid thing with big bulging eyes. Just as I got a clear view, my eyes rolled back and my head flew clean off.
If I could take comfort in anything, it would be knowing that Jo-Ann might very well share a similar fate.
″I know why the caged bird sings,″ Marco uttered as we sat on the same bed I used to sleep on, somehow still where I left it after all this time.
″What?″
″Have I told you about my mask collection, my dear Kelly Roger?″ Marco changed the subject in his Marco fashion.
″No, you haven't. Say, are you going to tell me what we're doing here?″
″I've got many masks, some even stashed here.″
″And this is important...how?″ I admit, I thought Lilypad was going to be some exciting hacker group, but I feel like I've done jack shit and now here I am doing jack shit. Marco was grating on my nerves as he did ever so well, I was considering walking out then and there.
″It's a surprise! You'll find out soon enough! Just wait, okay?″ Marco urged.
″Do I really have a choice? I take it that if I try to walk away, you'll just grab me and keep me here.″
″That may or may not be true,″ Marco replied, and this time it was a straight reply. ″But I think you'll want to stick around.″
″Why's that?″
″Well, what would you do if you left now?″
I didn't know how to answer, so I just shrugged.
″Never really considered that, to be honest,″ was what I had at last.
″I think you're curious.″
″Well, duh, but at this point I don't even know what there is to be curious about.″
″A reasonable reaction. You're holding out for nothing at all. But what choice do you have? It's only human to be curious, even if you're barely human.″
″I hate it when you say that,″ I growled.
″You're holding out for some form of excitement and will endure nothing in hopes to see something. You fear that if you go back to your life before, you won't see anything. Am I correct?″
″No, not at all,″ I started to get up. Marco grinned his shit eating grin. I felt like punching him, but I smiled right back instead.
″Maybe you're partially correct. You have moments that interest me. So why doubt you now?″
″Kelly Roger, you are the caged bird.″
″Huh?″
″You should doubt me because I live to deceive.″
Sitting on the bed, I came to realize how empty the room truly was. Aside from the bed and a dresser, there were none of the things that once occupied the room to give it an identity, a personality. I remember keeping comic books and news articles, but I abandoned that life three years ago, and I abandoned the room as well when things started to seem like they were getting out of hand.
I was starting to understand some of Marco's words. Just who had I become and who was I before? I couldn't tell the answer to either of those. The past was so close, yet so vague.
″I remember being here, uncovering information. I felt like I had a purpose,″ I muttered, not able to contain my reminiscing.
″Conrad has a way of making people feel important and then tossing them aside,″ Marco remarked. Before he remarked, I was willing to stay in my little space and imagine Marco as an imaginary friend serving as an aspect of my personality, except I wasn't even sure what my personality was. For some reason, I was okay with that, and there was comfort in knowing Marco was real.
″Did you used to work with Conrad too? Did he betray you or something?″ I felt like I was onto something juicy.
″Now, now, Kelly Roger. The caged bird sings out of boredom, nothing more.″
I awoke to the sound of low, gutteral growls and a warm hand on my stomach. I rubbed my temples, my eyes not even yet open. I met the growls with a groan of my own.
″Can you keep it down?″ A hushed scolding came from beside me. That was when I realized I wasn't alone. Not only that, but the growls were coming from my stomach, and the person was scolding me for being hungry.
″How rude...do you know when the last time I ate was?″ I asked, not even sure when the last time I ate was, myself.
″No, and I don't care. You're making too much noise.″
That's when I managed to look to my side and see who it was, even amongst the darkness and my blurred vision, it was clear the break of dawn; appropriately, I jolted away.
″What the fuck?! What are you doing here?! Where are we?!″ I was starting to panic and she put her hand up to my mouth, muffling the rest of my words, of which I had much more.
″I have a question, myself,″ she muttered, her hand still on my mouth. ″How the fuck did you manage to live up until this point? You're too reckless.″
Of course, she didn't let me answer, else I would have given her the rundown of how truly awesome I was.
″When you were in those vents, the poison gas entered your system. I'm betting you already knew that. Even if you're some kind of superhuman, it was only a matter of time until you succumbed.″
I scoffed. Sure, I'm the best there is, but superhuman? The thought was enticing. I imagined myself with big, bulging muscles, then my eyelids grew heavy, and I found myself leaning into her shoulder.
She shoved me away.
″Get off me! I could have killed you while you were asleep if I wanted to!″ She seethed.
″Why didn't you?″ I managed to ask while yawning.
″Because uh...″ she looked away, her voice even lower than before. It was clear that in spite of us able to see each other, or at least the vague figures of each other, we were encased in darkness. No hum or glows of computers, no lights in the walls or ceilings. Maybe Mavis was afraid of the dark. Maybe I could exploit that...
″Right after you passed out, the power went out. Not like when you hit that breaker earlier, but completely out. We run things pretty tight around here. We were prepared in case someone like you broke in, but this is different. For as long as I've worked here, I've never seen it do that before...″
Yeah, but how long have you worked here? I thought to ask, but didn't. Say what you will, but I was nothing if not tactful.
″So you're scared. So what. Last I recall, you wanted to kill me,″ I said instead.
Yeah, because you were trespassing you cretin, she was probably thinking. She opened her mouth, and I was sure she was going to say it, too.
″Yeah, but if I die too, I'm going to be so pissed,″ she growled.
My, how sweet.
She started choking up, blubbering her next few words.
″I'm nothing without my technology. There are things out there. I can hear them. There's something going on, beyond my control, and it fucking scares me.″
I wasn't about to watch this scene play out. I placed my hands on her shoulders.
″We're not getting anywhere as it is.″ I knocked on the walls. A metallic clang responded. ″I see. So we're either in a locker or a storage closet.″
She wiped her eye and looked away. ″...Closet. I dragged you in here as soon as it got dark. There's something out there...I can hear it.″
″Polo...Polo...″ I heard it too. It was an odd, croaking sound.
″So?″ I replied. ″There was something out there before the power went out. Just because you've encountered some things out of the ordinary doesn't mean you've experienced everything.″
She glared. Unimpressed. Fine. I didn't need her approval. We were still enemies, anyway.
Armed with...nothing, I bashed open the storage closet and wobbled.
″I'm still not recovered,″ I groaned, holding my palm to my forehead, feeling all dizzy.
″Come on, this way!″ She pointed toward what I assumed was a door.
Pink. Gold. Colors I should not have seen. I swam through the waves of people in their big dresses and hats, in their suits. Rich, careless people, who I had to shove past just to find anything.
″Oh my!″ One guest exclaimed as I ignored her and kept on my way. All of them were mindless parasites, and that was a fact I had to bear in mind. Their smiles were blemishes on the earth, they were likely not even human. That thought stuck out the most.
Everyone is gone. Rich or poor, only clones remain. All repelling energies that wouldn't allow them to feel anything but happiness. Blissfully unaware of their slavery.
I have to turn back time. Whatever it takes, I cannot allow this to be our future.
″Excuse me! Excuse me! Excuse me!″ I must have grunted a million times trying to find some space. I figured I was free and security wasn't interested in me, but the crowd was too much to bear now. I needed space and a way to gather my thoughts, plan an attack for when I get back to my home city.
At any moment, a drone strike could hit me. Firing lines could run out and fill me to the brim with bullets. Tanks come to take their aim at me. Missiles dropping. Any one of those things. I was in awe of it all, that I could be standing at such a dangerous place and even if for just a moment, live to see it with my own two eyes.
If I were to describe it, it was like a bunch of buildings had unholy matrimony with each other in an orgy of buildings and all of them got pregnant at the same time and spawned more buildings and these buildings didn't even resemble their parents and yet somehow here they were and I'm sure if these buildings were sentient, one of them would be on Maury right now.
...Something like that. I just realized all this time I could have called it a 'fortress' and ended it at that. A fortress upon fortress upon fortress that must have stretched on for miles, and then went even further underground. One of those buildings probably contained all those jets and top secret aircrafts. Here I am again with these unnecessary descriptions. I had to stop myself before it was too late, but the more I saw the harder it was to believe my eyes.
″I can't believe I'm standing in Area 51,″ I muttered and gasped. Never in my wildest dreams...I pinched myself, then cursed myself. Fuck. I'm really going to die here, aren't I? And I'm going to do it trying to save a friend who doesn't even want to be saved.
I ran through one of the doors, a million of them in a row and unsure if there was a trap or soldiers behind any of them. There should have been.
Just as a busted through those double doors, I tripped.
No lasers struck me, yet I still fell.
There were no lights, yet I could tell what caused my fall and why I didn't die right then and there. Soldiers in suits of metallic armor, lying there, lifeless.
I lifted my hands, picking myself up. Something wet could be felt on them. I looked down and connected the dots; gaping stomach wounds, exposed intestines. Organs removed. If the wound was any larger, would my hand have dug its way into the stomach itself...?
Just the thought caused me to lurch forward, as did my stomach. With each staggering step, I did my best to resist the urge to retch and vomit on the floor. The last straw was when my foot accidentally hit some kind of soft stone, except when I looked down, it was a helmet with someone's head inside, and it just was just on the hinge of falling off. The thing looked like Nearly Headless Nick from those Harry Potter movies, but the real thing was too much to handle. I leaned up against a wall with my arms over my head, and my head itself unable to contain what was being let out...
My mouth opened to let out a hateful blend of the citric acid from the fruit snacks I had ate earlier and stomach acid, the two burning my mouth to high heaven. I felt like I was going to let out blood from my mouth, yet that never came. Instead, many labored breaths, and a labored heart to boot.
Okay, come on, heart. We can do this. Lungs, you too. Get your head in the game. Brain...okay, brain, stop freaking out heart and lungs. Oh shit, here it comes.
A fear that was overdue set in: sure, I haven’t died, but whatever killed my would be killers was probably not looking to make friends with a passerby like me.
My arms stretched out. Well, one of them. I still wasn't used to that.
After kicking my legs up, I found my way to my feet. My stomach sharing some opinions with me.
″Is that so, huh?″ I looked down and patted my belly.
My legs did all the dirty work, inching their way out of the room and through the hallway until I reached the dining room where Trent was situated upon a bar stool, eating something warm and buttery.
He turned around, astonished.
″Whoa! You're...out,″ he managed to say in between munching on what I identified to be an english muffin. ″Well...that's not so unusual. It's not like we're keeping you trapped in that room as a prisoner.″
My stomach growled in reply.
″Even if you were, prisoners gonna eat too, right?″
I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I just looked around. Scrambled eggs, toast, the works...
I sat next to him and sunk my face against the tile counter top. My stomach was doing its damnedest to be the center of attention as its growls grew more menacing by the second.
″I'm hungry, but I don't know what I want to eat...″ I groaned, my mouth dry and my voice coming out like nails against sandpaper.
He picked himself up from his seat and shifted around the kitchen. ″You like eggs?″
″I don't know...″ I groaned.
″I'll fix you some anyway. At the least, maybe you'll like toast?″
″Probably...″
″What about coffee? You like that?″
″Ugh...just fuck me up.″
He laughed again and began preparing some eggs on the stove. ″How do you like them?″ He asked, then slapped himself. ″Right. You wouldn't know. Is it a memory thing or you're pretty positive you just haven't had them before?″
I shrugged. ″I know what they are...″
″That's something!″ He remarked. Indeed it was. I had forgotten a few things here and there. Mostly...everything about me. But I wasn't stupid. ″I'll go with scrambled,″ he added. ″Kinda like your brain right now, huh?″
He paused. My stomach growled, but I did not.
″Sorry, that was in poor taste. I lack tact sometimes. Well, everyone in this household does.″ He paused again. ″Sorry, that was also in poor taste.″
″It's okay! I'm an oddball, aren't I?″ I looked up and smiled, though my voice itself was devoid of any zest for life.
″By the way, can you remember anything?″ He asked while scraping the pan.
″Well, I remember my dream last night.″
He turned around, astonished. ″That...is something.″
″Yeah, it really is, huh? I think my dreams may have been hinting at my past or something but I'm not sure.″
He didn't say anything for a bit. He served up the plate of scrambled eggs and set it next to me along with a fork. I shoveled a bit of it in my mouth as he hovered over me.
″Well, what was your dream about?″ He asked. Finally, I might add, as a thought. My second priority after food was to share my dream with someone, or to get it out there, before I forget it all. Even now, contents of it were being snipped away and tossed in a trash compactor. I cleared my throat, though it would still be garbled by some bits of egg here and there.
″There was a creature in the shadows crouched over me, looking down. Gasping, panting, moaning, and drooling. I think it believed I was still asleep, but I looked up, and the second I did, I could no longer make out its shape. It was so clear to me when my eyes were closed. Well, the version of me in my dream. I don't think I've looked in a mirror once since getting here and it was just a vague impression of myself, I believe.
″Anyway, next thing I know, I no longer see a demon, gargoyle, whatever that thing was, and instead see someone in a wool robe, features barely made out. I reached over to touch the figure, my arm wooden and growing roots.
″'The truth is, you are not the protagonist of your own story,' the figure told me, its jaws open wide, ready to devour me. 'More of a supporting cast member. But in someone else's story, you are...'
″I don't think the figure finished, and next thing I knew, I was at a wedding. It was me. I was getting married. Next to me was a wedding dress, hanging up on a coat rack. No one was wearing it, but I could feel a presence all the same. I wept and smiled. All among the crowd were bouncing, yellow smiley faces. In my hand was a bow and arrow and I shot them all. As I shot them, my smile grew wider. As I did, the wedding dress next to me grew more pronounced. I looked over, and the wedding dress blew away in the wind. I ran off after it and into grassy hills, with no end in sight.
″The last thing I recall was a pulse on the earth itself, beating. I looked down and below me was a giant heart, covered in moss. The heart ruptured and a black hole formed inside, sucking me in. When I fell to the floor of the still-beating heart, there was a note in my hand.″
″What did the note say?″ Trent asked after taking a sip.
″I don't know. Maybe I didn't read it?″
″Well, that's quite the dream all the same. Any clue as to what it could mean?″
″I think I was in love with someone once,″ I blurted out. I don't know what suggested it. ″I mean, the wedding dress and all...it's probably symbolic of that, if I had to take a gander.″ Gander. That was a neat word. Without a second's pause, the blurting continued. ″I think I was in love with the concept of happiness!″
″Ah, to be in love,″ he mused. ″My sister, Vesuvius, you...all in love. I gotta, say, I'm jealous.″
″Why don't you try to find someone?″
″Guess I'm just not interested enough,″ he shrugged.
″I think I even remember her name!″ I gasped. I don't know how it came to me, so sudden, but it did.
″Oh? It's a she?″
″I don't know! I think so! Maybe! I remember something like...Eu...Eugene!″
He tilted his head. ″Eugene?″
″Well, maybe that wasn't it...she was such a feeling, though. I don't think she appeared in my dream, but she felt like an overwhelming sense of happiness. Such a big mood.″
″I have heard coworkers talk about their partners being a source of happiness.″
″Yeah! I think she was like that! I don't think it was Eugene, I think her name was Eu...Entropy!I think that's a fitting name for such a source of happiness! I think I was in love with Entropy!″
Trent reached into his pocket. ″I-I gotta head to work,″ he stammered and shuffled out the door. ″Take it easy today!″
I was confused, but it was still morning. Mornings were not a good time for thoughts. As I finished the plate of scrambled eggs, a thought came over me.
I think I'm cheerful, but I think there's also a sinister side to me. Something that tells me that I'll never be satisfied or at peace.
″Do you know of Anton Chekhov?″ Marco asked.
″Sorry, I don't really watch Star Trek,″ I dismissed. At least, that sounded like the name of a Star Trek character. Marco stared at me, as if I told him something heartbreaking.
From underneath the sheets, Marco produced a silver object and placed it in my hands. It was cold, yet smooth and soft to the touch. It held so much power.
″Why did you just hand me a gun?″ I asked.
″It's a surprise tool that will help us later!″ He explained with such conviction that reminded me why he was a leader of such a great organization as Lilypad.
No such thing as a single file line. These 'humans' were elephants, stampeding out the ramp and through the docks. Some to go back home, some to leave on another expedition. Some to meet the ones they love, some without a care for such things. Some were on business trips, plotting some master plan with their conspirators. Ways to make them more money that they would never use. Ways to plunge this world into further chaos.
But even those people didn't matter. They weren't people. They were copies of what once could have been considered 'people'. Not even the elites were spared, unless they had some allegiance with The Flashbulb. I had no doubt that not one of these figures were in their original bodies. All I had to do was blend in the middle of them and figure out my next route.
Just off the ramp, everything was fine, save for the pounding of my chest. Another step, then a hand on my shoulder. All tension pressed harder and I jumped. The shock slowed all my movements to my halt and all I could do was feel the grip on my shoulder and hear words uttered.
″Gotcha.″
To the other side of me was another hand, with just a tight of grip.
″Come with us,″ the other commanded. Both figures in blue suits and caps. Security guards, from what I could tell, and they were grinning as if they heard a dirty joke.
What's going on? How did they find me? I thought they caught their guy. I thought it wasn't me. I thought I was safe. I thought, I thought, I thought...
″Thought you could slip past us, huh?″ One of the guards remarked, an ever-present grin.
I said nothing, but tried to struggle free from their grips to no avail.
″We waited until the ship landed to arrest you. Didn't want to cause a scene,″ the guard to my right told me. I couldn't believe I had been so foolish. Never would I have let such an oversight slip yet here I was.
″Etna knew all along you weren't truly one of us,″ I thought I heard the other say.
″What was that?″ I asked, my voice cracking.
″Keep moving,″ the guard said instead. Maybe I heard wrong. Maybe I wanted to hear that.
I was being dragged through crowded streets along the dockside. People, if I could even call them that, pointing at me, watching the grotesque and pitiful display that I was. I realized through my failure that I had been here before. That yes, I would have let such an oversight slip past me because I already have, many times.
I let Blanc die multiple times. I let my base get destroyed. I let myself join the very organization I swore to defeat. I let the computer that I was building get destroyed before it was even finished. All these things I should have accounted for, yet I overlooked them all. This was just.
Just a couple blocks away, I saw an elevator, situated between two shops. It wasn't just any old elevator, either. It was the very kind that got its origins in the same city I got mine. I saw multiple people walk in. There were no guards or attendants. I was astonished. Had they improved that much?
My eyes were glued to it, even as we passed it by.
″Don't get any funny ideas,″ one of the guards noticed where my eyes were directed.
″You're going to be taken into custody and that's that,″ the other added.
But was that that?
I wasn't inclined to accept that. I had let so many small things lead to my downfall, but I left the confines of the Beige on my own, I entered the cruise ship, knowing the risks. As long as I still had a glimmer of hope that things could be salvaged, that things could be changed, I would take that risk. If said risk meant stooping further into the depths as to lose my very self, become what I despise, well...
It was never about me.
If there's any hope of turning back time, setting things right, somehow, in some way, then...
I don't mind disappearing.
Those fools made the mistake of not putting me in handcuffs, but even if they had, it would have been for nothing. I was wriggling, swaying my body to and fro, shoving the best I could. They tightened their grips, my muscles tensed. Yet a new found spirit, however small, was what kept me struggling to break free. I used my free legs and stomped my feet right into their own. Left foot on right foot, right on left. It didn't even register to them.
The two pulled out batons and started bashing me upside the head.
″YOU WILL COME WITH US EVEN IF WE HAVE TO BEAT YOU TO A PULP!″
I could feel blood running down my head, bruises and bumps forming. None of those mattered. What mattered is that they grew careless. My hands slipped out from their grips and before they could hold me once again, I sprinted with greater vigor than I ever had. Never before did I have so much energy, and I reckon that I never again would.
They were just behind me, but it wouldn't matter. Even if they followed me in, they wouldn't know where to find me. I would be long gone. I saw the elevator, its doors open. I dashed inside and met the embrace of several blades, all of which diced me to bits.
I want to arrive. Back at the place where it all began.
She wobbled, on the verge of another collapse. I held her up, figuring my physique had to be good for something.
″I still can't believe it's come to this,″ I mentioned offhand.
″Me either. Last I recall, you hated me,″ she agreed, all casual and without a care for the danger we were both in.
″It was never anything personal,″ I had to set the record straight, otherwise she would get the wrong impression of me. ″You were trespassing. Trespassers get killed. Facts are facts.″
″Fair enough,″ she looked up, and I thought I could feel her breath on me. ″But did you need to roast me like that?″
″I...″ This was gonna be a doozy. ″Envied you. That's a little different.″
″Envied me? Even though you went out of your way to tell me how much better you are than me?″
″Sgt. Michaels legit hated you. To have earned such hatred, you must have been held in high regard. You're an enemy of the state, the very government hates you. I'm sure there are places with pictures of you hanging on the walls where people take turns throwing darts at your face. I looked into your history and found out we had similar backgrounds. The only reason I'm better than you is because I wanted to be.″
She yawned. The gall.
″Fancy that. You're better than me, yet we're both going to die here.″
″Well, if that's the case, won't you humor me as to why you actually came here?″
She flashed me with her smirk. ″I'm always a slut for getting into trouble.″
That was it. End my life there. That must have been the lamest line I ever heard.
″Don't fuck around. There's gotta be a reason why you went through all this trouble,″ I pressed. My curiosity on the subject something I could have been curious about all on its own. Why did I care? She was a flea. A notorious flea, but a flea nonetheless.
″Oh, what does it matter why I'm here?″
I was going to press further, determined that the truth was out there, but I was interrupted mid-thought by a thumping sound just around the corner. These lack of lights were not doing any favors, but it wasn't so pitch black that I couldn't tell that a shadow was being cast, and growing with each thump.
I backed away and my heart did its little scaredy cat dance right on cue.
She started to slip and I picked her back up.
″What gives?″ She groaned.
″You better learn to walk again real soon!″ I barked. ″I'm getting real sick of carrying your sorry ass!″ I covered my mouth with one hand after chewing her out. My fear of whatever was getting closer was coupled with the fear that I was starting to sound like Sgt. Michaels, save the mustache monologues.
I heard her gasp. Not gonna lie, it was a little cute.
″...The fuck?″ She whispered, and I saw it too; a pale blob that resembled a human, but not quite. Lumps all over its body and thin, as if they were boneless, arms and legs. The creature, with short black hair in a bob cut, situated mere yards from us, opened its mouth and leaned down with a tongue that must have been twice the length of the creature's body uncurling and releasing a round object from its grip.
My eyes were going to well up, as the object rolled closer and I could get a better glimpse: Sgt. Michaels' head.
″I think I'm going to be sick...″ My once-enemy stated with labored breaths, likely holding back vomit.
Ditto.
I've heard rumors of there existing frog-like people, but those were supposed to be rumors. Myths, urban legends.
The thing retracted its tongue back into its mouth and opened its mouth to bellow a single sound.
″Polo!″
Blanc was fast asleep. I was crouched over. If I had learned anything these past few days, it was that Blanc was a heavy sleeper.
On the off chance that someone were to come in and see what I was up to, they would find the act disgraceful. Yet the act was a necessary evil.
″Forgive me,″ I whispered. ″But this is for the best.″
Whatever dreams that outsider may have had, let them remain within the confines of a dream.
″Still alive?″ I replied.
Marco, the sick fuck, spaced out. ″What did I ask again?″ He was picking at his ears, or whatever ears he was wearing for the time being.
″You said, and I repeat, 'What would Abel be without Cain?'″ I don't know why I was dignifying such a monster with a response. Perhaps it was my helplessness. I couldn't help but smile, even in spite of the situation I was in.
″Oh yeah, that Marco! What a funny guy!″ He laughed. ″I've gotta keep that persona a little longer.″
″So what are you doing here? And why is Kelly Roger here?″
″Don't you know? Leaving your group was the best thing to happen to me! Now I'm working with a hacker group and making a difference!″ Kelly Roger piped up.
″Now, now, my sapling, it's really simple what we're doing here. We just want to chat,″ Marco explained, twisting his head in my direction as he spoke those last few words.
I really had no other choice, whatever way I looked at it. I could try blinding the two with my laser pointer, but I had a feeling it would have no effect on Marco.
″Fine. We'll 'chat',″ I relented.
″Good,″ was all Marco had to say as he approached me, just short of touching me. ″It's time we were honest with our colleague, wouldn't you agree, Dr. Joseph Conrad?″
″That's not really my name...″ I corrected, although too late. I knew I was playing into his hand.
″Indeed. It's a codename, standard for all members of The Flashbulb, yes?″
Kelly Roger spat out.
″Really? After you made such a big deal out of that group?″
″It's not what you think,″ I tried to explain. Kelly Roger wasn't having any of it.
″It has never been what I think,″ was the reply I got. A hostile one, at that.
″I did that for a reason,″ I gave another exacerbated explanation. As I explained, I finally noticed a gun in Kelly Roger's right hand, something I should have picked up on from the beginning. I was in a daze with the whole situation and felt like Marco through some unseen force, held me by the throat.
If all I knew about Marco was true, this beast never had to touch me to have a hold on me. Knowing this, and Kelly Roger's instability, I was left with the revelation that I had to tread with caution.
″I don't give a shit about the reason!″ Kelly Roger barked.
Marco crouched down, just to my left. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see gestures of him pretending to shovel popcorn.
″Ooh! Kelly Roger! I just thought of a new game!″
I pretended not to notice the devil by my shoulder.
″If at any point you feel like shooting one of us, go right ahead!″ He pinched my cheeks and gave Kelly Roger express permission to do something no one asked for.
″Whatever,″ Kelly Roger looked aside and spat on the ground.
″You're not worried about Kelly Roger shooting you, are you?″ He whispered. ″You can leave if you are.″
″What game are you playing?″ I grunted.
″Am I wrong? Can you not leave? Are you paralyzed in fear? But why?″
I went silent. I could have said anything and it would get spun in any direction.
″Are you afraid that if you leave, our friend Kelly Roger will shoot you? Or are you afraid that I won't let you leave? I can assure you that both of these things are wrong. If you are afraid of me, I'll step away. If you're afraid of being shot, I'll take a bullet for you,″ he soothed, emanating a warmth that could burn anyone alive.
We both know you can't be trusted, is what I wanted to say, but he could have said the same about me.
″Hey, what are you guys talking about?″ Kelly Roger asked.
″Just a little secret between brothers,″ he mused. ″If you want, Conrad can tell you.″
″I really don't think it's worth repeating,″ I muttered.
″You always kept things from me!″ Kelly Roger accused. While I did keep some things, I ought to have pointed out how much I shared despite the risk.
″You're right, my sapling!″ Marco congratulated. ″You should shoot him! Or shoot me, for whispering things to Conrad when I ought to be more open with you.″
″What?! Why do you keep insisting I shoot anyone?″
The fact that Kelly Roger acknowledged such a situation to be ridiculous meant Marco's influence wasn't as strong as I feared. I knew Marco could twist others to do things they wouldn't otherwise do, but Kelly Roger had enough sense to question his notions. This gave me hope. Not enough that I was confident in walking away, but hope nonetheless.
Marco grinned, the skin near his lips ripping and tearing itself. He got up and walked toward Kelly Roger, yet looked at me the whole time, almost in an acknowledgment of something else.
″Rather counterproductive of me to suggest such things, isn't it? We still have much to discuss, including why I brought you here, Kelly Roger.″
″Oh? So you're finally going to tell me, huh?″
″Indeed. See, all these memories make me lose focus.″
Kelly Roger looked puzzled, Marco raised his index finger. ″No, before you say anything, it was my jumbled memories that brought us here.″
″I'm sorry, you lost me.″
Marco looked down and shook his head, putting on a show of pity.
″No, you two have lost yourselves. You, Kelly Roger, to your countless elevator rides, and you, Dr. Joseph Conrad, to your heart of darkness.″
My heart, my head, my eyes...they all shook, and yet I remained in place, frozen.
″You don't mean...″ I uttered.
″Yes, and what a pitiful sight it is. But what's more pitiful is that you could have prevented it all. You could have prevented Kelly Roger from ever meeting me, even. Yet you were so convinced in your methods that you failed to see whether or not they actually worked. Your method of 'mutual distrust' worked between you and Velvet, but were you really so blind? Kelly Roger is not Velvet. Nor is Kelly Roger you.″
″Finally someone said it,″ Kelly Roger grunted.
″In that respect, you're right. I should have valued you more, Kelly Roger, and for that, I apologize,″ I admitted.
″Your apology don't mean shit to me! Your apology means dick to me!″ Kelly Roger yelled.
My attempt at clearing the air didn't work at all. Marco put on another show.
″Such hostility! But Kelly Roger, you should be overloaded with happiness! Filled with glee!″
″Glee? For what? Seeing my former boss who treated me like shit? Am I supposed to be happy that he finally realized the error of his ways?″
Marco shook his head. ″Glee because your former boss is in such a pitiful state and you're in a much better position!″
Kelly Roger chuckled.
″Ha! Yeah! I guess I am pretty happy! Here you are, sitting on the floor while I'm in the best position of my life! I joined a hacker group that recognized my worth, when the whole time I was with you, I was left wondering why I was even there!″
″You need to leave that group,″ I advised. ″Lilypad, and by extension, Marco, is an enemy of humanity.″
″That really hurts. Right here,″ Marco pointed to his chest. ″I love humanity.″
A smile of my own spread across my face. Marco wanted to pit Kelly Roger and I against each other, but Kelly Roger was never my enemy; Marco was. Even holding a gun, Kelly Roger was irrelevant. The truth will set me free.
″If that's the case, why are you trying to eradicate them and replace them with amphibious abominations?″ I egged. That's right. You think I don't know?
″I love frogs, too! I don't see a reason why there can't be both, do you?″
I shook my head.
″Besides, lad, we're on the same side, when you think of it. Our enemy is The Flashbulb, is it not?″
″Both.″
″Indeed!″
″...Both. Both you and The Flashbulb pose a threat to humanity. You, the Beige, and The Flashbulb.″
He snickered. ″Are you referring to that video? I wonder what that person knew...″ He suggested. His tricks wouldn't work on me.
″No, I'm not. Yes, I learned from that video, but I learned about you specifically from an email. An anonymous source, warning me of the dangers of an antichrist figure. The Mark of the Beast. Taking many shapes, but the most common was a tall, dark man who often referred to themselves as 'Marco'.″
″Oh, ho ho, well isn't that racist?″
I ignored the quip.
″Many shapes, many names. One agenda: spread chaos and bring about the destruction of humanity. I did my research, and while I don't know your origin, seeing you face to face is enough to know you're real.″
″That's real sweet, but who do you think that anonymous source was?″ He quizzed, smirking all the while.
He shambled his way back to me, a giddy expression turning him from an ancient evil to a curious child. Once again, he knelt beside me and pinched at my cheeks.
″Oh, brother...this has been quite a journey, has it not? One rife with endless tragedy. Yes, for a while I fancied making myself your enemy. Why? Because I was bored and I knew you to have such potential. You were once a smart cookie, you know?″
He was pinching my cheeks so hard, I couldn't rebut even if I had the words.
″The way I saw it, whether you targeted The Flashbulb or I, it was a win-win. The world would be saved and I would be entertained. But with each failure on your part, I grew increasingly impatient. Not only that, but you were so focused on The Flashbulb in spite of going nowhere with them, that I got jealous. Now all of that has come to a head, and with you willing to go through that dreaded elevator yourself, becoming the very thing you despised in order return to a place which holds nothing for you, I'm sad to say...″
He released his grip on me and walked behind me.
″...I've grown bored of you.″
I wasn't sure now whether to focus on Marco behind me or Kelly Roger in front.
″You see, I am not a monster. I am but a man with a goal, just like you.″
I ignored Marco, looking up at Kelly Roger. No matter what I had done, it crumbled in my hands. When I saw Kelly Roger's gaze, I was met with nothing but hatred.
″I can't believe you would try to paint Marco as some kind of demon! The one person who dared give my life worth! You didn't even offer any proof!″
″Come on! Didn't you listen to a word I said?″ What had become of me? Was I really reduced to pleading? Where had all my composure gone?
″Yes, I heard,″ Kelly Roger sighed.
This brought a smile to my face, tears to my eyes. I thought for a moment that I had lost, that there was nothing I could do to reason with Kelly Roger. This time, I could finally move. I got up, off my knees, my aching muscles filled with a new purpose.
I would meet Kelly Roger in an embrace. We would hug it out and together we would pick up the pieces. ″I'm sorry I didn't include you as much. I promise, that will change,″ I would say. I wasn't even sure why I would say it, but it felt right.
As I ran toward Kelly Roger, my resolve grew stronger. Each pace more certain that what I was doing was right. Just as I was certain of the evils of the world, I was now certain that they could be conquered and all it took was for someone to hear the truth. Just a few steps closer and Kelly Roger and I would be standing inches from each other.
Before that could happen, I was shot in the face.
Either Marco laughed or bore no expression. Rather, Marco could have continued to walk away. It was so hard to tell what my final moment was, and what the point was of it all.
