What Once Was
Posted: August 17th, 2011, 11:46 amA/N Yes, I broke down. I'm writing a forum story. I had this idea forever but always thought I had no time. But now... eff it. I'm writing a full length forum story, that is if anyone reads. Also slowing down my writing schedule, so I won't be bombarding you and you can stop Biching. -spelled right-
Anyway, let's get cracking! The story is rated T, for violence and language.
Prologue-Quiet
I'm still here.
The streets are dusty. Once so modern and beautiful, this city was. But now it's been left unattended over the years, and the dust has become king. And this is my empire. My empire of dirt.
My clothes are colorless- I've had these clothes for the last seven years, and all the color has faded, and the fabric is worn. I'm shocked it hasn't completely fallen apart. My eyes are dulled in their hazel color, and my facial hair is unkempt and shaggy. I traverse the dusty empire in these colorless clothes, a gray, sandy figure in the midst of more sand and dust and gray.
I open the broken door to the old tavern I used to frequent. It's filled with those I know, my brethren, having a jolly good time getting drunk and acting foolishly.
I take a seat on the barstool, facing the barkeep. “Can I get a scotch, bartender?” I ask. I get no answer.
I drum my fingers on the rotting wood of the bar with a sigh. “So you're going to be that way, are you?” I mumble bitterly. “Well, go ♥♥♥♥ yourself. I'll get it myself.”
I leap over the bar, shove the tender into the wall, and walk into the back room. I'm surprised that all the cups are in manageable shape. I grab one, and make my way to the walk in fridge.
I'm enraged now, because there's nothing to drink in there. I lean out the door and shout “You better not be holding out on me, you hear me, bartender?” Fervently, I search the empty cooler for something, anything. It's a goddamned tavern, how can there be nothing to drink?
I leave the fridge, slam the door and throw my glass against the brick wall, where it shatters. “You son of a ♥♥♥♥♥!” I scream. “Where the hell is all the scotch?”
I get no answer. I kick the tender in the knee again, and demand once more “Where is the ♥♥♥♥ scotch?!”
He continues to say nothing. Defeated, I shout one final obscenity and storm out of the back room and into the tavern. I approach one of my friends, asking wearily “The bartender... won't give me any scotch... can I borrow some of yours?”
He doesn't reply. I'm determined to make him do so. “Answer me, goddamnit!” I plead viciously, slamming my fist on the table. He still refuses to do so. Can't he see how desperate I am? I just want some scotch!
“Is this some kind of prank?” I shout, echoing off the tavern walls. Still, no one answers.
That's all I can take. I flip the table over on my friend, but he still is silent, not even crying out in pain. I'm terrified, and I kick him in the side as he lays on the ground. “Say something!” I roar.
He continues to keep silent. In surrender, I declare“Fine! Go on right ahead! Don't give me no scotch! You ♥♥♥♥.” I storm out the door of the tavern, slamming it so hard one of the hinges breaks. Good. I hope it costs them a lot of money. Or at least brings in a hell of a draft.
I tread the dusty streets again, haunted. There are people... they are everywhere. I see them, I swear I do. So why is this town so empty?
Chapter 1-Abrupt
“Honey, can you get the door?”
“I'm trying to feed Bryan!”
“And I'm trying to clean the kitchen sink. Guess that leaves us in a tough spot, doesn't it?”
“Well, you can leave the sink and get the door.”
“Not in this shape, I can't.”
“Well it's not I can answer the door with a baby on my chest.”
“Oh, brother... fine, I'm on it.”
“Thank you.”
The twenty seven year old man sighed as he maneuvered out from under the running sink, because he knew that his wife's thank you in that situation leaked more sarcasm than their blasted sink did water. He wished he could just call a plumber, but she was persistent that he could get it fixed. After bumping his head on the counter, he stumbled through the kitchen through to the front door. Trying to maintain a steady breath, he straightened his short, brown hair and answered it.
“Hello, sirs, sorry for the wait, how can I help you?” The welcome was out in less than three breathless seconds before Kyle took a look at the people who answered it. When he could comprehend the black-suited men, he simply raised an eyebrow. He had a habit of containing absolute surprise that way.
“Des,” he called to his wife down the hall, “can you make your way down here?”
He heard an audible sigh and footsteps coming from behind him, and soon she stood next to him, baby in her arms. It didn't take her as long to recognize their visitors as Kyle did, and she instantly stated “Hello, Chris, Ben. What brings you here?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Ben greeted with a nod, cordial but professional. He looked the same as usual. Shoulder length black hair and icy blue eyes, a staggering six foot three inches in height. “A pleasure to see you.”
“...why are you here?”
“Yes, about that. Listen, I'm going to have to ask you to leave your premises immediately,” Chris stated much more casually that it should have been, his German accent ringing with something too close to amusement.
Kyle and Des both drew in a gasp, immediately facing each other. The next second, Kyle turned back towards them, facing them and asking “You mean... right now?”
“Yes, right now,” Ben repeated, his British accent monotonous.
“...can we bring anything with us?”
“No, we have to leave now!” Chris insisted. “Is there a part of 'right now' that you don't quite get?”
Ben sighed. “I apologize for my friend's impoliteness,” he said, as if the four of them had never met. “However, it is important that we depart right now. We have a dangerous problem on our hands, and it is important that we depart as soon as we can.”
Kyle and Des faced each other again, and Des tightened her grip on Bryan a slight bit. “We have to go,” she stated hollowly.
“I'm with you,” he added.
Chris nodded. “Alright, now, right this way. There's a black Lincoln on our side of the street. Just board that vehicle casually and nothing should go wrong.”
The couple nodded, walking towards the vehicle as if nothing was wrong, while inside their hearts hammered against their chest, demanding answers. Kyle opened the back door, allowing Des and Bryan to slide in. Kyle entered the other side, sitting next to his wife and holding her hand comfortingly. He could feel her pulse rocket on her wrist, and it was none too reassuring.
Chris entered the driver's seat, tossing his keys back and forth between his hands as he waited for Ben. He looked drastically different- instead of the bright green, messy spikes atop his head, he had a normal haircut of a chestnut color, and he looked considerably more fit than he had in the years prior.
“So, er... Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada?” he tried striking conversation, although no one seemed in the mood for it. “That's... err...”
“Boring?” Des quipped. “Snowy? Pimping? Lame? A mouthful?”
“...it's something.”
“Yeah, I'm sure it is,” she snapped, reclining further back into her seat. Kyle noticed her anxiety, and ran a hand through her short blue hair. She sighed, frowning but grateful.
It was around then Ben opened his door. He nodded reassuringly to Kyle and Des, and moved into his seat. Suddenly, he did a double take, and upon noticing Bryan, asked “Wait... what do we do about the baby?”
Chris sighed. “...goddamnit,” he groaned. “I didn't plan for any of our former members...”
“Having a baby?” Ben finished.
“I was just going to say getting laid in general, but whatever floats your boat.” Chris turned back towards Des and said “We're just going to have to wing it until we get to our hotel. You can meet with the others there, and we'll figure out what to do with the kid. Just... hold on tight, and I'll try to be careful.”
Des didn't bother questioning anything, because there was too much to question. She simply nodded and held Bryan closer to her chest. “Be careful,” she ordered.
Chris nodded. “I'll try.” Before Des could snap back, Ben slapped the German in the arm. Chris shouted in surprise but regained his composure, driving down the road their house was on.
As they drove through Regina, it was Ben's turn to try and strike reluctant conversation. “So...” he started, “...cute baby. How old is he?”
“Eight months,” Des responded, turning the baby towards Ben so he could see him.
“He's a healthy little fella,” Ben smiled. Addressing the baby, he stated somewhat goofily “Look at you, young lad! Just a strapping looking boy! I can tell!” Bryan laughed as a result, clapping his hands.
Des was a bit confused as to where Ben's skill with babies came from, but couldn't help but smile at the scene. Kyle noticed, and smiled as well.
Ben chuckled, a bit embarrassed, and Des could notice a solemn tint in his expression. “So, what's the boy's name?” he asked politely.
“Oh...” Des sighed. “We named him Bryan.”
The mood turned a bit melancholic as Ben nodded. “In... memory?” he inquired awkwardly.
“Yes,” Kyle spoke up this time. “In memory.”
It fell silent after that, and Ben faced forward again. A few minutes later, Chris broke the silence. “Okay, just so you know, we're going to be going by our codenames again soon enough, just as we did before in the city.”
“Does... this have to do with the city?” Kyle inquired.
“No! Just your old friends who have scattered across the world gathering back together to save their lives... having a bloody picnic!” Chris replied helpfully.
Ben rolled his eyes. “You're a right asscheek, you know that?” The insult only gathered a snigger from Chris, so Ben continued in annoyance. “But, yes, this has to do with the city. I can't say much more than that for now but it will definitely have something to do with that.
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “But the city's been empty for seven years! How could this have anything to do with it?”
“I swear, it'll make sense later,” Ben reiterated. “You'll also be meeting with your old friends as well; well, some of them. But when things get thick, we will be using our codenames- do you remember yours?”
Kyle nodded. “I'm Venexis.”
Des followed suit. “Mysti.”
Ben nodded. “And I'm Buffooner, as you probably know. And that over there is Right Asscheek,” Chris snickered again, “better known as our glorious Suyo.”
He smiled once more in an attempt to reassure. “Good that we can recall that. Anyway, we don't have long until we get to our hotel. Then we're going to take a flight out of here, and we should be at our destination in a couple of days. Some of the other staffers are rounding up our other friends, and we ourselves have a stop to make. Just bear with us, okay?”
Des nodded. What else could she do? Kyle kept silent, but Ben didn't take that as a negative response as he faced forward again.
Eventually, Kyle sighed, his head in his hands. Des put a hand on his shoulder and asked “What's wrong, hun?”
Kyle groaned, facing his wife and stating “I left the sink running, Des. I'm an idiot.”
Des raised an eyebrow, but took his hand and whispering gently “Kyle, I think that's the least of all our problems right now.”
A/N Ah, yes. Here's a start. So, yeah, this is me taking the idea of RL/Runouw mix and making something great out of it. At least, better than TRC. XD
And yes, before you ask, the two scenes are connected. You'll find out more later. The first chapter or two will focus on people gathering up and other such things, and then the story will really kick into high gear. I hope you guys enjoy... and review! Please! XD I mean, I'm doing this for you guys!
MoD
Chapter 2-Organized
A/N Hey, guys. I just want to make some things clear- I will be changing some details about the site/city- the history will be different, and I probably won't be including SM63 as it is. Also, I will be changing the ages of some characters that act older than they are. Because when you see the history later... if everyone on the site were teenage boys... no.
I don't know if I will gender swap to make it more realistic, because I don't need to do that to Ridder again, but apparently Foru doesn't mind. But will I be USING foru? o.o read on and find out.
Anyway... Admittedly this chapter is filler, necessary for plot progression. I will reveal more of what's going on, but not much.
Chapter 2-Organized
"Shall we?"
"Agreed."
That was the basis on the 'pre-game' conversation that transpired between Victor Stone and Doram Baramour as they walked up the steps to their first house in scenic Norfolk. And nothing more.
In fact, one would say that was somewhat of a wordy conversation between them.
Doram took the initiative to lead the way, walking up the apartment building's rickety metal stairs as spry as ever. Victor, the elder of the two, took his time, traversing the stairs calmly and with class. Ultimately, Doram got up to the top first, ringing the doorbell and straightening himself out. Victor raised an eyebrow but said nothing, as usual.
Eventually, the door opened, and a woman with cropped black hair opened the door. She had a well built frame, sharp features and overall looked little to nothing like their target.
Doram took it in stride. "Excuse me, ma'am, can you get me Christina Mairo?"
The woman nodded. "You're looking at her."
Victor's eyebrow rose, speaking for both of their surprise.
Christina examined the both of them. "Wait a second... is that..." After a second of recognition's surprise, she smiled. "As I live and breathe. Doram Baramour. It's been too long."
Doram nodded. "Indeed, it has. And... you look so different."
Christina nodded. "Oh, I know. I had a feeling you'd think so. Anyway, shall I invite you in for some tea? I mean, should I find my kettle around here..."
Doram smiled. "I'd actually quite-"
Victor softly elbowed Doram in the side, just enough to get his attention. Christina's eyes shown with the familiar recognition and asked "...Volcove, right? I don't believe we talked much."
Volcove nodded.
Doram blinked and added "I would quite like that; however, we really must be on our way. It is, unfortunately, an emergency."
Christina blinked, but didn't react too much. "Does this have to do with my military days?"
Doram's eyes widened, and even Victor blinked in surprise. Doram was able to say "Actually... no, it's in regards to the city."
Christina shook her head vigorously, in an effort to clear her head rather than disagreement. "Oh, yes... of course. That's why..." she gestured to the two grown men "You're... here." She sighed, her eyes drifting closed for a brief second. "Pardon me, it's been a long day. No, a long seven years."
Victor nodded, and if Doram wasn't mistaken, a look of sympathy rang through them. Doram spoke again. "Anyway... you're going to have to come with us. I'm afraid you can't bring anything with you except the clothes on your back, so... if you have anything in your pockets, I'd advise you leave them here."
"I can live with that," she responded lithely, pulling a phone out of her jean pocket and tossing it into the house, not caring whether it survived or not. She sighed, running a hand through her short hair. "Anyway, shall we?"
Victor nodded, leading the way down the stairs steadily. Christina followed, and Doram brought up the rear. The three silently and calmly walked to the black, tinted Lincoln. Doram and Victor got into the front seats, and Christina sat in the back.
She smiled slightly as she reclined into the seats. "These are... nice," she admitted.
Victor was the first to speak up. "Miss Ammon, I wish I could keep up the small talk; however, we should be getting on with business. This situation is, in fact, serious."
Christina ignored her urge to state how Victor sounded somewhat like Jack McCoy and instead nodded. "So, what's the SNAFU?"
"Our city is being linked to a terrorist attack and now we need to escape from visible sight to keep from being unfairly captured," was all he said. Christina gasped, trying to chew on that.
"That's... a lot..."
Victor nodded. Doram decided to take up the conversation from here. "So, Christina, we're going to take a flight out of here as soon as we can, and then we'll rendezvous with the others."
Quick as a whip, she replied "Not a public flight, surely? That's much too risky and lord knows we're on the flight risk list."
"Of course," Doram chuckled. "Trust us. We know exactly what we're doing."
"I figured. Just checking. It's... habit."
Victor nodded, and everyone fell silent. Christina let her thoughts drift off as the car coasted along the streets and, eventually, onto the distant freeways. She observed Victor, and realized that not only did he sound like Jack McCoy, he rather looked like him, too. He sure aged since she last saw him- what was he now? 51? He seemed centuries old, just in his behavior.
And Doram... actually, Doram looked like he always did. Somewhat short, just a smidge portly, but not to a fault. His hair was still short and brown, his eyes still green, his smile still warm. He approached his forties with grace, and cheer, most likely.
She wondered why she wasn't worried too much about the situation at hand. Her life was at risk.
Again.
Perhaps that was it.
--------------------------------
Des collapsed against the hotel bed. Right. Hotel. Right. Bed.
Apparently Chris's idea of a hotel was a worn down little cabin in the middle of nowhere. Okay, so most of Canada was classified as 'the middle of nowhere.' But this was the middle of the middle of nowhere. And the cabin leaked, and it was annoying her. She counted every raindrop from her cot as it fell into the metal bucket.
Not exactly the most subtle introduction to the life on the lam.
At that moment, Kyle tried to open the door.
Right. Tried. Right. Door. Pretty much everything was a shoddy performance was what it should be.
The large, nailed in plank of wood didn't quite move enough, and so Kyle continued to push it forward. It was annoyingly unrelenting, though. With an exasperated sigh, she got out of her cot and pulled on the board, budging it open enough for Kyle and Bryan to pass through.
Kyle chuckled, embarrassed, and said "I... could have gotten that."
"Mmhmm."
Kyle smiled comfortingly, handing the baby to Des. She seemed to calm down as she wrapped him in her arms, and Kyle was grateful for that. Taking a seat on a rickety stool, he announced "Well, Ben says the pilot should be here by tomorrow with an able enough plane. Then we'll gather in the meeting spot."
"Hope to god it's not another hotel."
As Des reclined on the cot, Kyle frowned slightly. He adjusted himself on the stool to avoid a fall and studied her from across the room, and he had a feeling she was going to speak soon.
She confirmed his suspicions. "Kyle... what the hell?" she asked, gazing at the leaky roof. A drop of water hit her nose and splashed across her face.
"...what do you mean?" he asked, fearing that he wasn't helping anything.
"...I dunno," she added, frustration seeping into her voice. "That's all I can think, all I can think." Her emphasis increased on every word. "The ground's been pulled out from underneath me. And... I'm frightened."
Kyle sighed in understanding. It wasn't often his wife complained about anything, and if she did, it was either in a self deprecating way or an a subliminal message kind of way. He knew that she was troubled. And he was too.
He sat there, not knowing what to say, and it frustrated him, because he wanted something to say, badly. He knelt down by the cot so he was face level with Des. She didn't face him, and Kyle figured that she apparently found the ceiling hypnotic. He just sat there, watching her watch the ceiling, and that was how it stayed. And it was troubling, painful. It just didn't feel right. But right now, nothing was right.
-----------------------------
"We're here, Miss Mairo."
"Jack?" Christina mumbled as she broke from her nap in the back of the Lincoln. She came to her senses and saw that Victor had opened the door for her. She yawned, unbuckled, and moved out of the car. Without missing a beat, she followed the two men through a field of wheat.
It was a half mile's walk through the field, not that Christina minded. It was nice there, very scenic and calming. Allowed her to focus. Ironically the dreamy scene helped her out of her last bits of sleep.
Eventually, a small plane came into sight. Nothing fancy, but nice enough. No words were needed as the three of them traversed the last bits of the field to the plane.
When they just started to arrive, Christina asked "So, who's the pilot? Is he with us?"
Doram nodded. "You pick up fast," he stated, and left it at that.
The idea was nice, so she quickened her pace towards the plane, and found her there in less than half a minute. Stepping in the small coach, she noticed that the plane looked like a commercial flight, only smaller, fit for ten people. She noticed that there were three people already there, reclined into their seats. More members?
She searched through the crowd, trying to identify them, but came up a bit short. She had a feeling she could spot Garrett in there somewhere, but what did she know? She took a seat in the front, next to another young man near her own age of two and a half decades.
"Hello," she stated simply, watching as the boy turned towards her. They both recognized a glint of recognition in each others eyes as they recognized each other.
It was he who spoke, eyes widening. "Aro?" he mumbled in surprise.
She smiled back. "Sax!"
Nothing more needed to be said as the two old friends embraced each other for the first time in years, shaking.
"I'm sorry," Sax stated with a breaking voice. "I swore I was going to keep in touch."
"It's alright," Christina responded lamely. "It's alright, Michael."
They pulled apart, and Christina straightened her hair. She noted that Sax still recognized her through the change of her looks, and didn't comment on the transformation. And it was simpler that way.
Doram stepped into the plane, taking a seat in the back. Victor took the front seat next to a bearded man and a suited woman. Aro heard the members greet the three of them, and she replied with the customary return greetings. She felt a sliver of the community returning from once before.
The pilot took a look in the back, and Christina immediately recognized him. Foster Barton, or Highwire. He smiled, stating "Welcome, Christina. I suppose we shall take off, as we have two more stops to hit before the big rendevous."
Christina nodded and smiled. Victor declared "We should leave now. Time is of the essence."
"Then to New York or bust," he replied, and then proceeded to sing Frank Sinatra's song. As the plane proceeded to take off from the dirt, she smiled, closing her eyes as she heard Micheal's breath next to her. Things were somewhat rickety now, but they would get better. The team was getting back together.
A/N It’s baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Just in time for awards season, too.
To quote Lil Wayne “I’m sorry for that mothaf**kin wait.” I was just figuring out where to go with this, but after finishing “The Girl Who Played With Fire” for some reason I wanted to write this again. I wonder why, but maybe it had something to do with his writing style- very matter of fact and cold, even when the events were not. I’m probably not going to emulate that much at all, but it made me think of how I wrote, and I decided what the hell I’ll write this again.
So now we’re going to pick it up where I left off. Enjoy!
Chapter 3
Then Meets Now
It was difficult to describe the bond between Caitlin Alistair and Austin Chau. It fell somewhere in between the partnership of their fellow agents- not as quiet and professional as Doram and Victor, but not with the friendly banter that Ben and Chris partook in. It was interesting indeed, and not something that could be easily named so neither of the two attempted to.
“When I thought of New York,” Caitlin stated as she drove the Camry through a lonely back highway, “this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, to be honest.”
Chau nodded in recognition, glancing out the window at the open fields and spaces of the lower Catskill range. “A lot more… country… than I expected.”
“And we’re only a few hours away from the Apple,” Caitlin observed. “Although the traffic’s so bad that we’ve probably not gone a hundred miles away from there yet.”
He nodded again, cracking a small grin before pushing his glasses up and positioning the map in front of him. “So, we’ve got a few more minutes until we hit Livingstone Manor. Where’s Mic supposed to be again?”
“Mic? Oh!” It took Caitlin a second to register who Mic was, as she had not made his acquaintance well enough before he departed the community five years before it shut down. “Our Jared Weiss is somewhere within this town. I’m not exactly sure where, but the town’s got about a thousand people in it so we may be able to find him relatively easy.”
Chau smirked. “Try the synagogue,” he cracked.
The humor was quite lost on Caitlin, who just blinked and asked “Oh, he’s Jewish?”
Chau sighed, but it wasn’t her fault she was so puzzled. “Yes, but I honestly doubt he was there. Let’s just wing it once we get downtown, alright?”
“Okay…” she blinked, focusing back on the road. She hated to be the oblivious one out of the loop. In this case, though, it couldn’t really be helped. She spotted the exit and steered the car onto it and quietly entering the city, which in and of itself was quiet indeed. In different circumstances, it would have been relaxing.
Admittedly, it was relaxing even then.
“So, about this ‘Mic’,” Caitlin began her request. “What exactly is he like? Do you have any idea what he may be doing?”
Chau laughed in a sudden, short burst. “Ah, don’t get me started on Mic. We’ll be here for hours.” Even Caitlin, as distant from their relationship as she was, had to spare a smile as his words reminded her of her own friends with a sad smile. “Well, then, can you grant me the basics?”
“No problem,” he replied cordially. “Child prodigy for sure. He’s probably twenty four by now. His parents sort of sheltered him, but that wasn’t why he found his way to Runouw’s City, and they knew he was there. He loved music, as long as it was no newer than the late eighties, otherwise he’d have half a mind to go Simon Peter on his own ears. Very sharp, sarcastic sense of humor, stemmed from of a love for Monty Python and classic movies.”
Caitlin’s grin became a little more sincere, even if it didn’t change. “Sounds like a character.”
“Sure is,” he confirmed, keeping an eye out for said character and not minding the small wave of nostalgia that came with him. Luckily, it didn’t take him long to spot him, and when he did, he burst out in laughter surpassing even his bursts from earlier. Caitlin, by now completely alienated, pulled over into a parking spot along one of the main streets and gave her partner a quizzical look.
Chau noticed and suppressed his laughter long enough to state “Oh, sorry. I found him.”
“That’s great,” she replied, “but I don’t get what’s funny about that.” Staring out the window, she saw a few people walking around a man with a guitar in front of a tavern, with a hat set out for change. “I mean, you act like he’s the homeless man across the st… he’s the homeless man across the street, isn’t he?”
Chau started laughing again. “To be honest, that’s exactly how I pictured him.”
“Oh…” she found herself surprised and a bit underwhelmed to see a former legendary moderator playing guitar on the streets he lived in. “Guess that whole child prodigy thing didn’t work out?”
“Well,” his reply was hesitant. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
“Certainly,” she agreed, opening her door and watching out for occasional traffic. She let Chau cross the street, as he would be better to introduce the two to his old friend. She looked in her side mirror for just a moment, straightening her hair hesitantly and then immediately wondering what possessed her to do so given the circumstances which didn’t really call for it.
Shaking the thought, she caught up with Chau across the street, who stood aloof from the supposed Microphone, and Caitlin had this deep-down feeling that he was probably looking for the best (or wittiest) opening line to introduce himself with. She took a place out of the spotlight as Chau stood stationary with a half-smirk on his face, looking over his friend.
The silence was broken with “If you’re looking for the ramen, the store’s that way,” as the man pointed to the east. Chau’s smirk turned to a look of flabbergast and he became even more stationary. As soon as his partner saw him, it sealed the deal, and she burst out into a fit of laughter that made Chau’s reaction look unfazed.
The self-confirmed Jared Weiss gave a crooked, amused look to the woman standing with his old friend and stated wryly, hoisting himself off of the ground “Jared Weiss, ma’am. Nice to meet you.”
Caitlin nodded as she fought her laughter, keeping herself on her feet while being able to say “I’m so sorry… er, Caitlin Alistair. Nice to meet you, it truly is.”
Jared seemed to look more and more amused as he observed the supposedly professional young woman. Chau eventually shook out of his annoyed surprise and welcomed his friend with “You ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥. How are ya?”
On his feet, Jared took his friend’s hand and shook it vigorously, and finally Chau allowed himself to smile, even knowing that he lost that verbal battle. The two exchanged a brotherly hug for the briefest of moments before letting each other go.
Jared turned his attention to Caitlin, who had used their brotherly moment to dust her clothes off, straighten her hair and pretend that nothing had just transpired when it so obviously had. “Caitlin Alistair, eh? Name sounds familiar. Are you one of those women who visited me after a show?”
Caitlin turned fiery red. “Uh, I don’t believe so. I was in the city, with Chau. Just before you left.”
Jared snapped his fingers as his memory succeeded him. “Ah, of course! MP3 Amplifier or something or other, right?”
Caitlin nodded. “Exactly, you’re right. Microphone, if the papers I have with me don’t lie.”
Jared nodded as well. “You have it exactly right. Welcome to Livingstone Manor. Look around, you’ll see half the city’s population.”
Caitlin found herself actually looking around. “Well, if the population’s twenty people, I’d be inclined to concur,” she replied, only immediately afterward aware that she was entirely too literal about things and sighed in veiled embarrassment. Jared’s only response was to wink lightly, undeterred. Caitlin immediately became the last of the three to don a smirk, knowing full well that she was in no small crowd of people who received the supposed rocker’s supposed charm. All she responded with was a knowing, amused look that stated better than words that she was no fool.
Chau observed their dynamic and cracked “Well you two seem to have hit it off.”
“Don’t get jealous Chau,” Jared replied. “I only have eyes for you.”
“And me and about a thousand other women,” Caitlin interjected acutely, looking over her shoulder. If she was going to keep time with those two verbal warriors, she better start practicing now.
Jared raised his eyebrow again before bending down to put his guitar in a black leather case. “You’re getting better,” he commented offhandedly, making sure his acoustic was put away snugly. “Although you’ve a ways to go. I’m surprised Chau hasn’t already taught you well.”
“I hadn’t a clue that witty banter was something I needed to learn on the job.” Caitlin was torn between whether she liked the somewhat cocky, lighthearted guitarist or if she had already had her fill of him. It was an odd thought to entertain, because more than a decade ago, back when he was a leader of the city, she would have respected him fully as she did the other leaders. Out here, though, the playing field was evened. In fact one could even say that she was the one with the upper hand.
Well, there I go. Much too cerebral again.
Finally, Chau seemed to get a grip on what they had actually gone there to do. “Oh, well damn, I almost forgot why I was here,” he started.
“Not just to visit an old bro?” Jared quipped, although he did seem somewhat slighted.
He shook his head. “I wish. There’s kind of a big situation going on, and-“ he stopped himself again, to the slight chagrin of Caitlin, as his eyes lit up with recognition towards a person just exiting the tavern with two drinks in hand. Caitlin followed his gaze towards the person, faintly recognizing as well- if only because that person was easily quite androgynous. Their facial features were soft, yet sharp, with piercing blue eyes and full lips. Hair was shoulder-length and glossy white, cut in a mullet of some short. Seemingly tall, but only because he or she was as skinny as a toothpick, with a chest that had the slightest amount of lift- potentially nothing of note at all. The clothing was little help, with tight skinny jeans and a loose black t-shirt.
“Holy hell,” Chau laughed, not wasting a moment. “Ridder? How the hell did you get-“
Ridder gave a short laugh, not minding that a curious Caitlin hung on every word. Her attempts at determining the mysterious person’s gender were dashed as she realized that their voice was just as baseless in gender as their appearance- a mixture of soft and leather that was somewhere between Sigourney Weaver and Adam Levine in pitch.
Unsatisfied, Caitlin turned her attention to Jared, who wasted no time in introducing the two to Ridder. “Everyone, Dana Li, also known as Ridder.”
Great. Even the name is androgynous. Something told Caitlin that Ridder, or Dana Li, was having way too much fun with this- a notion further clarified when Dana spotted the frustration evident in her eyes and simply smirked before immediately turning her attention to her two long-time friends.
“Chau, Chau, Chau,” Dana began. “What strange fate-powered UFO drops you here in the only small town in the nation that holds two of your oldest friends? Certainly no coincidence.”
Chau struggled to formulate a thought before settling with “…I’m sorry. I just can’t get over the fact that you happen to be here too. I didn’t expect that in the slightest.”
Dana smirked. “Trust me, Chau, I’m a failure if I’m not gloriously off the radar.”
Jared nodded. “A pure coincidence of some sort, honestly. I happened to run into Dana a few weeks back, while he-she was hitchhiking somewhere in Delaware. I happened to be the hitchhikee after I immediately recognized the only male-looking female or feminine male I’ve ever seen.”
“And you’ve been in love ever since,” Chau declared.
The two potential lovers stared at each other quizzically for a moment, before breaking the mood with raucous laughter, clearly ridiculing the idea so naturally that it was hard to accuse them of lying. “Trust me, Chau, I make it a point not to get involved with anyone whose gender I do not know.”
“You mean Ridder still hasn’t told anyone?” Cait interjected before she could help herself.
Still laughing, Dana responded with “Where’s the fun in that?” A few wordless moments passed before Dana snapped its fingers again, saying “Ah, yes! I knew I recognized you. You’re Miss MP3 Amplifier, former ruler of all things holy and architectural in our fair city of old. Slaughterer of mediocrity with a heart of gold and the mannerisms of a tripping mule.”
“I think that last one is a little over-exaggerated,” Caitlin protested. “But yes, you’re right. Caitlin Alistair. A, uhm, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Chau glanced at his partner, who seemed very much out of her comfort zone- certainly no uncommon feeling around someone like Ridder, even aside from looks. It was looking at her that reminded him once more of why they were there, and he stated “Anyway, guys, you keep distracting me. I’m here because we need to leave here, now.”
“Oh?” Jared raised an eyebrow, securing his guitar over his shoulder.
“Yes,” Caitlin confirmed. “There’s something dangerous going about, and the safety of those who were involved with our old city, and we need to get you to a safe place.”
Barely fazed, Dana stated “Spontaneous ♥♥♥♥ just got serious.”
She nodded once more. “Pretty much. In fact I’m rather glad we ran into you, Dana. We had presumed that you were dead too.”
“Whoa, what?” Jared gasped in surprise. Dana seemed just as unaware, stating “Well this is news to me.”
“Yes, it is,” Chau agreed. “To all of us. Now, I need you to be prepared to throw out everything of value. That means your wallets, IDs, cell phones, anything that can be traced directly back to you.”
“So, we’re entering poor man’s WitSec?”
“Pretty much, Dana.”
“I don’t care about ID and money all that much,” Jared stated, “but I’m keeping this guitar. This is a fine, beautiful guitar, even signed by Steve Miller. I’m not giving this up if it kills me.”
Chau glanced over the acoustic. “Agreed. Fine guitar, and I don’t think it would kill you keeping that guitar. Agreed, Caitlin?”
“Fine with me,” she confirmed, heading towards the car. “Just go ahead and hold on to the rest of the stuff until we can find a way to get rid of it.”
“Alright,” Dana cracked its knuckles. “I suppose it’s time we get ready to rumble, right, lady and gents-“ a thunderclap caused Dana’s words to silence, a silence that immediately filled the air. Caitlin looked up at the sky, confused, until she saw that Chau was looking instead towards the ground, horrified to find a bullet clattering on the ground, just at Dana’s feet.
“In the car, friends?” An unharmed Dana suggested.
“Fine idea, old bean.” Jared was already leaping into the back, scooting his guitar to the far right side of the Toyota. Dana immediately followed, the last to enter as Chau got himself situated in the driver’s seat and Caitlin buckled up on the passenger’s side. Another bullet passed through the air, nicking the car just above the left headlight. Steadying himself, Chau began to calmly drive away from the shots being fired.
“Dude, this isn’t driver’s ed,” Jared protested. “Shouldn’t you be gunning it away from the guy shooting us?”
Caitlin glanced back at the township, noticing a small speck of a person on top of a two-story building with a revolver in hand. “Seems like a small-time sniper to me. That gun looks like it would have poor range, a range I’m pretty sure we’re out of.”
“Besides,” Chau explained, “I don’t want attention drawn to us, and I don’t want anyone to think we’re the ones being shot at.”
Jared nodded, relieved to see that the shots being fired were a reasonable distance away from them, nowhere close to hitting. He settled his nerves by watching the surroundings of the County Road heading towards the highway, which had just begun to familiarize themselves in his head. He found himself a bit let down to be leaving a place he was just hoping to become familiar with, but hey, he’d rather not die more than anything.
“So, fair escorts,” Dana spoke up, “where shall we be heading?”
“To a plane. Foster Barton should be pulling in any moment into a corn field twelve miles away. We’ll catch up with about fifteen, twenty others there.”
“Haha, so it is a coincidental UFO of fate.”
“Let’s go with that.”
Silence prevailed for a few pensive minutes before Caitlin filled the void with her next request. “Anyway, guys, we need to trash your personal items- save for the guitar, of course. Hand me your wallets, your cell phones, anything else of the sort.”
With little hesitation, the two got the requested items out. Caitlin said nothing when Dana pulled a wallet-sized picture out of one of the slots, placing it in their pocket, and instead took the small pile of bequeathed objects. Soon enough, when they were adjacent to a small empty patch of grass on the highway’s shoulder, she rolled down their window and tossed everything towards the field they passed.
Looking back at the two slightly puzzled set of eyes, she explained “A red herring, to make sure no one finds us. Odds are, the cops will find those things and make a case out of it, getting so wrapped up in what could have been a robbery or a murder and not think that you were escaping.” Her gaze turned sympathetic as she added “You’re going to have to accept the fact that you may not return to this life at all, because it could mean that you die. I’m sorry it came down to that, but that’s the way it is.”
As was expected, there was no response from either of the two other than brisk nods. She didn’t protest or find it odd. After all, how does respond to something like that?
A/N this whole gathering beginning should be over in a couple of chapters at most. I’ll be getting to the meat of the story really soon, so don’t worry.
Ah, nostalgia. The meeting of these four; Ridder, MIC and Chau in particular, reminded me heavily of my first year here. I look forward to writing these guys in with Buff and others- almost a full house with them. The character slots are nearly filled up, so that’s a good thing. I have a good idea of who I want in, so don’t ask.
Thanks for reading, everyone!
MoD
A/N I believe I may have fallen victim to a forumfiction cliche or two. You'll have to pardon me. Hope you like the chapter nonetheless.
Also, for those who find the time frame kinda funky, there's usually a day or two between each other chapter, as there is in this case.
Chapter 4
In Time
The wind howled up near the far-from-stable cabin that was used to hide the Fitzgerald family. It battered against the old Jeep Cherokee that was fighting its way through the barely-plowed gravel roads that winded around trees and away from steep canyons. The twenty nine year old man steering through sighed as it reminded him of a long lost, familiar time, before he had even thought of the city of Runouw. A time that was almost preferential to the emergency he found himself in right now, alone in this Jeep in the snowcapped wilderness of Saskatchewan, a place he'd be surprised if he spelled right on the first try much less driving through in a snowstorm.
Eventually, he found the place. Having no one to reassure him or calm his nerves was far from how he liked it. He wished that Caitlin could have helped take his mind off the unease, or Doram to give him the knowing look of a mentor far stronger than he. Even Chris' unorthodox humor would have helped him out in this situation.
He wished for a time when reuniting with long lost friends at long last wasn't due to an emergency as much as resolving to set a few days aside and remember that, after all, they are still around and they'd love to hear from you. He heard a few things every now and again, but he was the one who had thought it best that everyone keep out of contact seven years ago. Sometimes the leaders had to make the decisions they'd never stand for as a civilian.
He cleared his throat, feeling the full lonely impact of such a decision. Coordinating the recent efforts of gathering the survivors was his job, one he felt obligated to do after he learned of the danger. It wasn't like an exciting 90s cartoon, like the X Men reuniting to take down evil. How did they do it, knowing that not only were their lives at stake, but those they cared about as well?
And we've already lost so, so many. They don't even know…
Eventually, Cameron forced himself to open the driver's door and step out of the Jeep, his boots crunching against the snow as he went to knock on the giant wooden plank that made up the door. He could easily see inside the squalor conditions they were staying in and commented out loud "Well, that's smooth. Certainly no place for a young family to be staying."
As soon as he realized that he had made his thoughts audible, he heard noises of surprised movement that in turn made him jump. He straightened out his heavy duty jacket (no suit and tie for this occasion, just scarves and sweaters) and prepared to see a couple of people he once considered to be his closest friends.
When he saw Kyle walk out to the door, his heartbeat spiked as he knew there was no turning back now. Not that there was any bad blood between other than the disappointing reality of the decision and the evident knowledge that neither of them, leader and civilian, wanted to go through with the decision Cam had made for the city.
"Hey, Ven," he tried to put on a cheerful expression.
"Hey, Cam," he returned, cracking open the plank of a door and letting Cameron squeeze through the door. It wasn't an easy task, and his coat got stuck several times (his own fault for wearing one with so many pockets and cords) but eventually he made it inside, looking around at their temporary rest stop.
"Can you do me a favor," Cam began, "and please tell me who the hell put you in this place so I can kick their asses later?"
He heard a barely audible giggle from the direction near the cot, where he acknowledged Des and Bryan with a smile.
"Well, I certainly have no problems or regrets with any sort of reveal or ass-kicking," she admitted without guilt. "Chris and Ben. Conveniently they haven't been here in a few hours."
"Probably because they wouldn't want to stay in this place," Kyle added.
Cam growled silently. "And these are our fearless leaders? They trained me better than this." He gave a short laugh at the irony. With everything going on, he had assumed the position of group leader from Chris, the city's foremost leader (seeing as Runouw was more of a figurehead), because Cam was the one coordinating the efforts in the first place.
"Anyway," he said, "I'm actually here to say that you're busting out of this joint. Chris and Ben should be waiting for Foster to land his plane, although if they left five hours I'm assuming that they must have gotten a cup of coffee and watched the re-release of Titanic or some useless ♥♥♥♥." He furrowed his brow and continued to rant. "Seriously, I can't get over how they left you here on your own. What if something happened to you and they weren't here? And if they had to do something important, they should have goddamn told-"
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that both Kyle and Des were tensed up, and even Bryan let out a short cry. Cam blanched, burying his forehead in his hand. Not quite looking up, he began to talk again. "Look, I'm not going to ♥♥♥♥ you because you need to be prepared. We're in a lot of danger, all of us. You're not the only one who's been pulled aside by other ex-leaders. About twenty of us will be gathered together by the end of today, hopefully, on Foster's plane. If we're lucky, there will be more. I can't say much more than that until we have everyone together. Just… watch your back, and keep a clear head. If I have my way, we're all going to be safe. Both of you and…" he looked up at their baby "and your child." He cracked a smile. "That's pretty great. He's a good looking fella, too. He probably has his dad's staggering intelligence and his mother's nuanced wisdom. What did you name him?"
The two parents exchanged a look between them, unsure of whether or not they should tell him. Cam gave a short chuckle that unsuccessfully hid his nervousness. "Come on, I won't tease you or anything if you named him some Renesmee-esque name mashup."
"We named him Bryan," Kyle admitted.
Almost immediately affected, Cameron felt a familiar pit surface in his gut, and he swallowed hard, his face turning into a mixture of shock and sadness. "I… okay."
The conversation lay as a shattered mess on the ground, the words disintegrating into the soaked wood of the cabin. Cameron found himself wishing that he would get a phone call so he could find an excuse to think of something else, anything else, other than a shattered window and sirens and- thank frigging God.
He heard his phone go off and he nearly lunged for the answer button, placing it to his ear before he even knew what he was doing. He could tell that he had alienated both Des and Kyle, but knew that they both understand. "Hello?" he spoke to the phone.
"Cameron," he heard the unmistakable unfazed voice of Victor on the other end. "The plane's just landed. You're with Kyle and Des, correct?"
"That I am," Cam responded. "They have a baby with them, however. We'll have to fit that into the plan."
"That's a bit of a problem," Victor admitted, still not sounding bothered.
"I probably should have factored that in. But I'll figure out. Please tell me that Chris and Ben are there and they have a good reason for leaving them here alone."
"Chau received a phone call from them. They told him it was sort of an emergency, and they'd be late."
"It better be," Cam growled, "and I'm not talking about missing the end of Hunger Games. I'm not happy with them at all. Anywhere, how far away do you think you are from us?"
"I'm surprised you didn't hear the plane descend around you. We're probably a mile down the road- er, field."
"Excellent. Also…"
He could hear Victor laugh at the other end of the line; a rare occurrence, but not to the point of being surprising. "Grace is just fine, Cameron. Don't worry."
"Worry?" Wry amusement seeped into Cam's voice. "I've done nothing else. Anyway, we'll be there soon."
"Good to hear. See you then." The line dropped and he put the phone back in his coat pocket. "Alright, guys. We're ready to hit the road. We'll be on the plane in no time, which should be nice since you can reunite with more long lost friends."
Kyle nodded, venturing to smile as he took Desiree's hand and led her out of the door as Cam struggled to prop it open for the both of them. When they squeezed out, Cam followed and released the plank, watching it reverberate against the wall while he walked to his side of the car. Soon enough, the Jeep found itself bumping along the snowy fields and barely visible dirt road and towards the plane.
----------------------
"Why do I have a feeling," Chris mumbled, "that Cameron is going to kick our asses when we get back?"
"Because I can imagine him blowing a gasket given the circumstances," Ben replied, steering the car through the backroads. "I just hope he can kindly understand our own plight."
"Do you think he's going to make it?" Chris asked him, visibly nervous as he stared at the man in the backseat, visibly in pain as he stared out of the bleeding gunshot wound in his calf. Upon hearing Chris' words, his look was compounded with one of heightened terror.
"Damn it, Chris," Ben groaned. "Stop scaring Tanner like that. He was shot in the leg, not the heart. I think he'll be worse for wear but he's going to live."
"I'm not being an ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥," Chris insisted, glaring out the window and across the empty fields. "I'm actually kind of legitimately concerned for the guy, something I know seems like a foreign concept to you but certainly isn't that far off of a guess. Now let's get to the plane before they decide to rain another bit of Touhou on us, alright?"
Ben nodded. "Sorry, Chris," he said, barely audible as he followed the road through the snow. "I'm kind of freaked too, obviously. I can't believe there are people everywhere hunting for us."
"Me either," Chris replied. "I didn't know that the Mounties were so badass." He looked back at Tanner, giving the young Asian man a reassuring smile. "Guess you really can't underestimate Canada, now can you?"
"Nope," he choked out, still feeling inflamed in his leg but grateful for Chris's humor.
"Guess we can add snipers to the cool things Canada gives us," he continued with a wink. "Snipers, Jim Carrey, maple syrup, block bosses, and that South Park song."
Tanner had to crack a laugh when he heard the line about the block boss, but immediately stopped as he felt the searing wound in his leg. "Damn it, Chris, your humor is going to be the death of me."
"Apologies all around," Chris nodded, still smiling as he turned back forward, glancing out at the clear field. "How much longer until the plane?" he whispered. "I'm kind of freaked for Kevin there."
"I reckon another half mile," Ben replied. "Hold on tight, Tanner. You'll be just fine."
"So will everything," Chris couldn't help but smile, feeing renewed hope. "In time."
The mood in the car was broken when Ben heard a dent hit the car on Chris' side, and a soft popping sound. "Goddamn it," he muttered. "Did I get a flat tire or so-"
When he turned to his right, he saw Chris slumped down, head between his legs, still smiling. "Chris, you okay?" He tried to shake the man, but he didn't budge. Uneasy, he looked to the right side of Chris' body, gasping when he saw a clear, circle hole in his side, right along the same length of his heart. There was no question that he was dead before he even knew it.
"Oh, no," he whispered.
"What?" Tanner demanded urgently.
"We've got to get out of here," Ben's voice was monotone but shook like a branch in a gale. "I'm going to speed up. Be careful."
Tanner barely had time to brace himself before Ben hit the gas, shredding snow on both sides of him. The car hit numerous bumps in the road, and he had to block Tanner's agonized shouts and curses as he poured his adrenaline into the gas petal. When the plane finally came within sight, he skidded to a halt near it, grateful that the Cherokee was parked near it as well. Kyle and Desiree had just boarded the plane and Cameron was close to as well.
Ben swung his door open. "Cameron! Get Tanner inside, now!"
"Tanner? What the hell? What's up?"
"No time! Just get him, goddamn it! He's been shot. There's no time!"
MoD leapt over the stairs, pouncing off of the ground and opening the side door, trying to be as gentle as he could as he yanked Tanner out of the car and up the stairs, not even noticing Chris lying dead next to Ben. Swiftly enough, the two were up on the plane, probably finding someone with the slightest amount of surgical ability to help them.
Ben didn't want to, but he found himself taking one last look at Chris, or Suyo, both names for the same person, both synonymous with him. The smile permanently etched on his face Ben knew would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. Furious and aflame with many bitter emotions, he slammed his head into the steering wheel, activating the horn on a long, unbroken streak.
"♥♥♥♥!" he shouted, breaking down by slamming his fist on the dashboard. "What the ♥♥♥♥ do you want from us? What the ♥♥♥♥ is your problem! What the ♥♥♥♥ did we ever ♥♥♥♥ do to you?"
He couldn't stand to be here another moment, nor would it be logical to. He got up and slammed the door open as the horn's blare disappeared as quickly as it started. He didn't bother to shut the car door as he dashed up the stairs to the plane, slamming the door shut. He noticed Kevin taking up a whole row of seats, four people not hesitating to stand up for his sake. He noticed someone working on the gory mess that was his leg- he believed it was Mark. Still feeling haunted, he approached Cameron, who immediately took alarm at his tormented expression. "What the hell?" he whispered.
"Chris is dead," he replied just as quietly. "The ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ shot him."
"Oh my god," Cameron found the nearest empty seat and collapsed in it, grasping the armrests. "Who did it?"
"I don't know. A sniper, but I don't know who."
"Jesus Christ," Cam sighed. "Goddamn it… Ben, go up there and tell Foster to get a move on. The sooner we can get back, the better."
"Alright," Ben replied. "But what about everyone else? What do you want them to do?"
"Pray we make it through the flight in one piece." He wasn't joking.
Ben nodded and walked up to the cabin. Cameron groaned, visibly broken by the news. Not only was Chris dead, Cam knew he was easily the number one target at this point. He, Chris and Bryan were the three with the highest amount of power in the city. Now Chris and Bryan were both dead.
Cameron wasn't going to lie and put on a brave face. He couldn't pull it off. He was terrified of dying and of death. He didn't want to die; he couldn't ever explain how much he didn't want to die. He looked to his right, sighing in relief as he realized at least she was still alive.
"Cameron?" Grace asked him, tapping his arm. "Bro, you okay?"
Cameron could feel the tears prickling his eyes as he looked at his little sister, relieved that she was still alive and frightened because he knew she could die at any moment. She may have been twenty years old now, but he was just as protective of her as he was when she was a nine year old kid with hair of as many varying colors as Ramona Flowers and an obsession with anything related to animals.
"Not really," he admitted.
"Christ," she closed her eyes. "I'm sorry about Suyo."
"How did you know?" he gasped.
"You don't exactly whisper when you think you whisper," she explained with a teasing smirk that, while normally annoyed her brother, brought him a bit of comfort. He chuckled softly, trying to force himself to relax.
"You're going to have to tell them eventually," she reminded him.
"About Suyo?" he replied, knowing that wasn't the answer.
"About everyone," she corrected him, just like he knew she would.
"I know," this time he truly was quiet, so much that she didn't hear him this time. She still knew what he meant- he didn't want to, but he knew he had to. She gave his arm a squeeze, adding "you don't have to right now. You don't look well at all."
"No, really?"
She smacked him instead. "Wow, thanks," she snapped, smirking. Cam gave her a certain look somewhere between aggravation and truce but found the ability to relax, leaving the world behind for a short time.
---------------------
Tony looked at the artificial metal of his cell wall. Surprisingly, it looked just as he envisioned a maximum security federal prison would look. He knew he should be fazed, or at least should try to be, but he found himself uncaring about his own fate. Either he'd be rescued, released or even escape without harm or would be killed because he wouldn't talk. Both seemed positive enough to him. They already took everything else away from him. What did he have to lose?
He knew that his friends certainly had a lot to lose, and had already lost a lot. Around 20 surviving, around four hundred dead and only one detained. He was that one, and he certainly wasn't going to make anything easy.
He could hear the guards coming down the hall, and he knew they were coming for him. There was no one else locked up here after all. He anticipated another round of questioning, something that used to terrify him but by now gave him no reaction. Torture used to scare him, affect him. Now it was just as routine as eating ramen for lunch.
They'd never get him to talk. He was close before, but the more they attacked him, the quieter he became. It was sort of counterproductive at this point.
He smiled, very eager to mess with them. It was all he had left to do at this point.
Bring it on.
A/N So, things get more explained here… more or less. Enjoy.
Chapter 5
Codes and Keys
Things are still so very wrong here, so very wrong. People begin to vanish from the city day after day. They just disappear, fade away before my eyes. I call after them, beg them to stay, but they disappear as if they don't hear me. No one ever seems to hear me, it seems.
It shouldn't surprise me when I deduce that maybe I have legitimately lost my mind, and it doesn't; it just depresses me. I wonder if I even exist, if maybe everyone else is alive and I'm not, just a ghost trembling through the air unaware of his own fate. For good measure, one day I find myself bashing my head against a brick wall to make sure I still feel and I don't melt through. I don't get anything except a raging headache, so I know I may still exist, but no one notices me still.
Perhaps I'm in limbo. The idea's not totally crazy; a long while back MoD did this huge construction project through The Designer to create a film about limbo called Dark for a contest awhile back, way before people started disappearing. It won a lot of awards, too…
The Designer.
I have to wonder.
I find my way through the streets until I find the entrance of the control panel. The building itself is small, a solid black with red stripes, but the creations it is capable of are certainly not. I push against the front door, and it gives easily. Usually, this place is pretty guarded- the designs are usually created on home computers and given to the Designer Moderators for them to approve. If they did, your creation was as good as real.
I walk through quietly- I'm pretty sure no one notices me still, but I'm still worried about getting caught and getting in trouble. The control panel is simple and complex at the same time- it is often as simple as taking the submitted blueprint and inserting it into the port, but there is a complex panel to use in case any edits need to be done. When it's in the port, it shows up as virtual reality that can be entered by the moderator to test for themselves. When it's completely ready, the matter is placed into a metal box and taken to an empty lot, something that is certainly common around here. When it's there, they plug the box into an outlet on the far edge of the lot. From there, the matter explodes and uses whatever wizardry Runouw himself put into this strange set of devices to become a true, living form, just as the creator intended it. It's truly unlike anything else.
This is a very volatile creation, however. The long term goal is to use it to construct inhabitable cities and to create an empire from the dust of nothingness. Such an idea, however, has always been thought to be too good to be true, so when the city was created, the idea was that there would be eleven years of successful testing for the Designer before it was used for its proper purpose. Until then, it was used for contests, for movie sets and for other experiments, while the city itself was constructed in the more traditional ways by near years of blood, sweat and tears by Runouw himself and Superyoshi.
At the height of its popularity, nearly ten thousand people lived in the city of Runouw, and all were encouraged to try this new technology, with an abundance of testing grounds for one to try it out. They were literally all over the place, some straggling and alone, most in giant parking garage-like towers with lots stacked on top of each other, each floor adjustable in height and size. Everyone had one free lot, but could gain more by winning contests or earning grants for their work. As such, a hierarchy was established, where famous expert designers like Volcove could own multiple lots and become celebrities while most stuck with their one lot happily. The Designer was the foundation of the city, even if it wasn't the only thing.
The city was formed on January 1st, 2009. The new year.
Today is December 9th, 2019. The testing period is almost over, and the city is about to usher in a new era of life.
At least, it was, before it became what it is today; a dusty shell of what once was with people who may not even be real and with a hope that seems gone by now.
Feeling at unease, I find a cool blue file cabinet next to the panel that faces the virtual reality window. I find that it opens with ease, revealing many blueprints that are in pristine shape. They are all in the form of flash drives with small labels on them strewn around randomly, barely legible and mostly consisting of initials anyway. I take a look through some of them.
"TotPG-Vol"
"AoF-M&VInc"
"EM-41"
"Colony-K321"
"CG(GitC)Cryo"
No good. These are all contest entries. I slam the drawer shut in frustration and go a drawer below, hoping I can find what I'm looking for in independent works. I yank open the drawer, looking through the labels once more.
"TRC1-MoD"
"Daily-MoD"
"WoA-MoD"
"Para-MoD"
"L,E-MoD"
And, honestly… it was always like that, the independent drawer, almost entirely full with MoD's works and stories. The man honestly had an extraordinary amount of time on his hands, but I can barely remember any of his works, except one of them. But finding it would be like finding a specific needle in a needlestack. I sigh and start moving them around more when I hear a door slam open. Panicked, I slam the cabinet shut and leap out of the chair, trying not to get-
"Whoa, what the heck, sir, are you lost?"
I screech to a halt, my initial thought being Damn, I'm in trouble now, but as I replay the voice in my head, I realize that I've never heard that voice in my life. It's a woman's voice, and she can't be much older than twenty. It's plainly American, with a subtle hint of a mid-western American accent that was unlike any of the women I had befriended here before. The city had a population more skewed towards male members, with 70% of the population being male, and a scant few females being among prominent members. Then, another realization hits me- she's addressing me. She's talking to me. I don't remember the last time that happened, someone talking directly to me.
I turn around to see her, and my suspicions are confirmed in the fact that this woman is definitely around twenty years old, with bright red hair that extends down to her shoulders, somewhat unkempt, although I'm not in a position to judge. She's oddly tall, just over my own height, with a pale olive skin and the oddest violet eyes. She's wearing a skirt that goes to her knees, plain black stockings, hiking boots and a light pink hoodie that isn't over her head. She looks… incredibly, incredibly out of place here.
"What the hell…" I have plenty of ways to finish that question. Are you doing here? Are you? Is your problem? Is everyone else's problem? …am I certifiably insane? Is wrong with the city? I can't find it in me to finish that sentence, though.
"I… I'm surprised to see anyone here, actually," she admitted, scratching the back of her neck. "Like, everyone is gone. I thought I was the only one here."
"Really?" I reply my default, feeling no control in my words. "Because, I'm seeing people around here, all the time. I mean, they never say anything but they're he…"
Great. I just revealed to this woman that I am out of my mind. I'm not eager to see her reaction but I look anyways, feeling relief as she says "You might be right, I don't know. This place is just so out of whack that I may actually end up being certifiably insane."
"So I'm not the only one," I exhale. "Well, that's terrific."
"I guess we can be insane together," she shrugs with a slight, off kilter smile. I can't help but return it. "Anyway," she continues. "I'm… okay, between you and me, I'm sure neither of us are allowed to be here, but if they really wanted us out, they wouldn't have made it so easy to get in here. Therefore, I frankly don't give much of a darn."
I break out laughing, if only because I'm so glad to be hearing another human addressing me with any form of humor. I must look to be an unstable mess, leaning against the panel with my dusty clothes and my shaggy beard and laughing myself to near hysterics. She gives a snort, quipping "Obvious logic, my dear Watson." She sighs, almost longingly, although that could be said for either of us. "Anyway, I'm looking for a file here, a long lost one, one I desperately need. Have you seen it?"
I shrug. "I've seen at least fifty by MessengerOfDreams, and that's without even looking."
"Perfect!" she declares. "That's what I need. Which drawer?"
I open the independent work drawer and allow her to sift through. She does intently, shuffling the drives around while I sit at the control panel, feeling incredibly antsy. I hear a soft "Mm-hmm" from her as she picks one out and sets it on the control panel next to me, label down.
"Found it?" I ask.
"Yep, yep," she confirms, preparing to shut the drawer when she adds "Wait a second…"
"What?" I'm beyond curious and far from patient.
"I found something… incredibly interesting, I remember; from a long while back… let me get it out." She pulls out a second flash drive out before shutting the door. Before I can bother to look at the first, she's snatched it up and placed it in her jacket pocket. She takes the second one and hands it to me, asking "put it in?"
I look at the label. It reads "WoW-MoD." I don't remember it, but I vaguely recognize it as What Once Was, a city-based movie from 2012 which was one of a sub-genre of faux-historical dramas the city would create starring its own citizens. It seemed a bit superfluous, but the citizens often saw it as a way of looking towards the hopeful future.
What Once Was finished a short time before this city became so empty. I only nod silently as I place it in the drive reader, waiting for it to load up on the virtual reality screen. The girl takes a seat next to me, also watching eagerly and huddling into her coat.
To my surprise, the space comes up on the screen as entirely empty, with a large grid of black lines against a blue screen, a sight usually seen when there's nothing but a blank template in the drive. "Darn it," the girl hisses, slamming her fist against the panel. "This must have been mislabeled or something."
I shrug. "Well, what was so important about it?"
"It was just… I dunno!" she groans. "There was something about it, that was important, that I needed to know. Oh well, nothing we can do now."
She pushes herself back to her feet. "Anyway, I'm leaving, are you coming with?"
"Uhm…" I take a second to think it over. On one hand, it's nice to know I'm not completely alone. On the other hand, there's something very suspicious and off about this woman and she's not very good at hiding it. But then again, I'm probably very off myself right now, and there's no safer place to be from her than right next to her, I suppose. "I don't really have anything else planned, so… sure."
"Alright," she smiles widely, violet eyes aglow. "So, let's get out of here, first off." She breaks into a run, off like a rocket before I could ask her to wait up, but I begin to keep pace.
I hear a clattering on the ground which stops me for a moment. I look down on the cold metal floor to see the flash drive she had pocketed on the ground, label up.
"Hey, wait! You dropped something!" I call after her. Before she can notice that I've looked at it, I scan the label into my memory, recognizing it as the "TRC1-MoD" label I saw earlier. She dashes back in, yanking it off of the floor before I even notice her presence. "Thanks," she replies breathlessly, before standing up straight and looking behind my shoulder. "Hey, wait, something's printing out behind you."
"What?" I gasp. "This thing has a printer?"
"Well, it can create worlds from electricity and magic. If it didn't have a printer that'd just be stupid."
I chuckle and reach for the small stack of papers behind me, raising an eyebrow. "What's it say?" she asks eagerly.
I read down at it. "It… says…" Nothing. It's nothing but numbers and symbols and the occasional letter, arranged oddly against the paper in patterns. I sigh, handing the papers to her.
"Well!" she pouts. "That's excellent. That flash drive must be bugged to hell, because that looks a lot like the code of the project itself."
I look it over again, finding it to be very peculiar in structure. There's something familiar about it, in the far off distance. I look into the first paper again, scanning it for answers. I find one in the paper's center, finding one coherent word in the mess of code.
Vandarx.
"It's a code," I declare, dropping to the ground.
"I know it's a code!" she replies, exasperated. "Now, seriously, what are you doing?"
"No, no, not like a programming code," I explain. "It's a secret code. The Vandarx Code."
"A what?"
I'm surprised she hasn't heard of it; it's a code that has gone down in the city's history. One of the first graphical artists, Vandarx, was an anonymous entity that could make incredible works out of only typed numbers and symbols. Their work was mysteriously donated to the first art gallery of the city, with his name somewhere in the code. If you looked closely, you could see structures and familiar forms within the colossal code. To everyone's surprise, it turns out that there were secret messages of an upcoming attack on the city from the inside, displayed in a story-like pattern through the code through many separate works, which was discovered by an expert decoder by the name of Ridder. Before it could happen, it had been prevented, with the perpetrators being arrested and exiled. After that, the mysterious Vandarx was never heard of again.
"It's a puzzle," I explained. "We have to find where the code connects, because there's a structure within these papers, like a jigsaw puzzle."
"Okay…" she hesitates, but I'm already laying the papers out. There are thirty of them, and I'm already spreading them out. Without needing to reply, she's sorting through them already, finding connections between the two.
It's a laborious five minutes of silence before we've pieced things together. Eagerly, we push the papers around, feeling the rush of excitement that solving a puzzle often brings. When we're certain we've finished, we stand back and take a look at the piece.
When I make out what it is, I give a shocked glance to the woman. "Do you see what I see?"
"Holy… crap," she breathes.
"Holy ♥♥♥♥ indeed," I confirm, looking at the portrait. At first, it looks simply like the side of the 23 Tower, where the city officials often met to perform their business. It's a regal building with a simple shape, tall and rectangular with a subtle rounded point. There are other small buildings in the background, seemingly unnoticeable, if it weren't for the subtle flames licking the rooftops, or at least that's what it appeared. Most jarringly, however, there is a window busted open at the top of the 23 Tower, and unmistakably, there is a person falling to the ground and is halfway through the descent.
It is in part prophetic and in part historic. There hasn't ever been a serious fire here, not one to take down multiple buildings like this. However, there has been someone who fell, or more accurately, leapt from the 23 Tower, in 2012, just before the city became a vacant hell.
"Bryan," I mouth his name.
Chapter 6 (snippet)
Kevin O’Connor had a macabre sense of humor.
She inherited it from her parents.
The melancholy air of the plane after Cameron told everyone of Chris’ death left her more awkward than sad. Sure, she was sorry to hear he was dead; he was a cool guy and had a sense of humor like her own, only more neutered. But honestly she found no situation more awkward than a grieving room. She didn’t really grieve; at the most, she got kind of bummed. She was a bit wacky that way.
It was probably her parents’ fault. Did she ever wish that she had parents that were some kind of lawyer or doctor instead of having a magician and a comedian for mothers? Not a chance in hell? But did she ever imagine what it’d be like? Yes.
The idea kinda sucked.
Kevin just hoped that people would brush off her lopsided I’m-not-liking-this-aura awkward smile as something Kevin just did. She heard some sobs from around her and couldn’t trace down another smile around her for miles. It was just her.
Not that she expected anything different. Chris was practically the leader of the city. That Runouw guy was just a figurehead, an engineer, the guy who made the cool techy stuff the site was built around. The creator, designer, whatever it was. Certainly nothing would be the same without him.
She tried to feel sad, if only to figure out what everyone else was feeling. It was kind of hard to do, though, because she just didn’t do sad very well. She looked around the plane and out the windows at the clouds below. She awkwardly shifted in her chair trying to be inconspicuous, feeling bad for not wanting to cry like everyone else. Running a hand through her short black hair (spiked nicely up), she occupied herself by counting the heads of everyone in the plane.
A surprising thought hit her around head eleven- she had a feeling that everyone in this plane was, well… everyone there was. After all, Cameron and the other staff wouldn’t leave anyone behind, right? That’d be a pretty ♥♥♥♥ thing to do, after all, and it wasn’t quite a Cameron thing to do. The guy cared about people a hell of a lot, and his efforts were almost obsessive and just about always self-sacrificing. She appreciated it but didn’t quite like it for his sake, because she had a dark feeling that the man was a sacrificial lamb in training.
Almost immediately after that thought, she resumed counting, with a renewed passion. If this was everyone there was, and everyone else was probably dead and gone… ♥♥♥♥ he better be here. She browsed through the different heads urgently, looking for that familiar face, one she was very fond of, desperate to find it.
She did, running into tearless brown eyes that, with little surprise, stared right back at her, nearly concealed by shoulder-length, shaggy, tree-bark hair. After a split second of eye contact, she whirled back around in her seat, finding herself surprisingly out of breath. Oh thank the guy up there, he was alive.
She felt a quiver in her chest and dear lord was she about to cry? She hoped not, and she swallowed deeply, trying to fight that unfamiliar feeling off. She’d hate being the only ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ in the room crying because she was happy. But the relief was so sweet and she was so surprisingly happy that she didn’t mind releasing it for just a moment.
Then she smiled, not quite caring what anyone else thought. She knew what she thought, though. Thank god Brando's alive.
Anyway, let's get cracking! The story is rated T, for violence and language.
Prologue-Quiet
I'm still here.
The streets are dusty. Once so modern and beautiful, this city was. But now it's been left unattended over the years, and the dust has become king. And this is my empire. My empire of dirt.
My clothes are colorless- I've had these clothes for the last seven years, and all the color has faded, and the fabric is worn. I'm shocked it hasn't completely fallen apart. My eyes are dulled in their hazel color, and my facial hair is unkempt and shaggy. I traverse the dusty empire in these colorless clothes, a gray, sandy figure in the midst of more sand and dust and gray.
I open the broken door to the old tavern I used to frequent. It's filled with those I know, my brethren, having a jolly good time getting drunk and acting foolishly.
I take a seat on the barstool, facing the barkeep. “Can I get a scotch, bartender?” I ask. I get no answer.
I drum my fingers on the rotting wood of the bar with a sigh. “So you're going to be that way, are you?” I mumble bitterly. “Well, go ♥♥♥♥ yourself. I'll get it myself.”
I leap over the bar, shove the tender into the wall, and walk into the back room. I'm surprised that all the cups are in manageable shape. I grab one, and make my way to the walk in fridge.
I'm enraged now, because there's nothing to drink in there. I lean out the door and shout “You better not be holding out on me, you hear me, bartender?” Fervently, I search the empty cooler for something, anything. It's a goddamned tavern, how can there be nothing to drink?
I leave the fridge, slam the door and throw my glass against the brick wall, where it shatters. “You son of a ♥♥♥♥♥!” I scream. “Where the hell is all the scotch?”
I get no answer. I kick the tender in the knee again, and demand once more “Where is the ♥♥♥♥ scotch?!”
He continues to say nothing. Defeated, I shout one final obscenity and storm out of the back room and into the tavern. I approach one of my friends, asking wearily “The bartender... won't give me any scotch... can I borrow some of yours?”
He doesn't reply. I'm determined to make him do so. “Answer me, goddamnit!” I plead viciously, slamming my fist on the table. He still refuses to do so. Can't he see how desperate I am? I just want some scotch!
“Is this some kind of prank?” I shout, echoing off the tavern walls. Still, no one answers.
That's all I can take. I flip the table over on my friend, but he still is silent, not even crying out in pain. I'm terrified, and I kick him in the side as he lays on the ground. “Say something!” I roar.
He continues to keep silent. In surrender, I declare“Fine! Go on right ahead! Don't give me no scotch! You ♥♥♥♥.” I storm out the door of the tavern, slamming it so hard one of the hinges breaks. Good. I hope it costs them a lot of money. Or at least brings in a hell of a draft.
I tread the dusty streets again, haunted. There are people... they are everywhere. I see them, I swear I do. So why is this town so empty?
Chapter 1-Abrupt
“Honey, can you get the door?”
“I'm trying to feed Bryan!”
“And I'm trying to clean the kitchen sink. Guess that leaves us in a tough spot, doesn't it?”
“Well, you can leave the sink and get the door.”
“Not in this shape, I can't.”
“Well it's not I can answer the door with a baby on my chest.”
“Oh, brother... fine, I'm on it.”
“Thank you.”
The twenty seven year old man sighed as he maneuvered out from under the running sink, because he knew that his wife's thank you in that situation leaked more sarcasm than their blasted sink did water. He wished he could just call a plumber, but she was persistent that he could get it fixed. After bumping his head on the counter, he stumbled through the kitchen through to the front door. Trying to maintain a steady breath, he straightened his short, brown hair and answered it.
“Hello, sirs, sorry for the wait, how can I help you?” The welcome was out in less than three breathless seconds before Kyle took a look at the people who answered it. When he could comprehend the black-suited men, he simply raised an eyebrow. He had a habit of containing absolute surprise that way.
“Des,” he called to his wife down the hall, “can you make your way down here?”
He heard an audible sigh and footsteps coming from behind him, and soon she stood next to him, baby in her arms. It didn't take her as long to recognize their visitors as Kyle did, and she instantly stated “Hello, Chris, Ben. What brings you here?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Ben greeted with a nod, cordial but professional. He looked the same as usual. Shoulder length black hair and icy blue eyes, a staggering six foot three inches in height. “A pleasure to see you.”
“...why are you here?”
“Yes, about that. Listen, I'm going to have to ask you to leave your premises immediately,” Chris stated much more casually that it should have been, his German accent ringing with something too close to amusement.
Kyle and Des both drew in a gasp, immediately facing each other. The next second, Kyle turned back towards them, facing them and asking “You mean... right now?”
“Yes, right now,” Ben repeated, his British accent monotonous.
“...can we bring anything with us?”
“No, we have to leave now!” Chris insisted. “Is there a part of 'right now' that you don't quite get?”
Ben sighed. “I apologize for my friend's impoliteness,” he said, as if the four of them had never met. “However, it is important that we depart right now. We have a dangerous problem on our hands, and it is important that we depart as soon as we can.”
Kyle and Des faced each other again, and Des tightened her grip on Bryan a slight bit. “We have to go,” she stated hollowly.
“I'm with you,” he added.
Chris nodded. “Alright, now, right this way. There's a black Lincoln on our side of the street. Just board that vehicle casually and nothing should go wrong.”
The couple nodded, walking towards the vehicle as if nothing was wrong, while inside their hearts hammered against their chest, demanding answers. Kyle opened the back door, allowing Des and Bryan to slide in. Kyle entered the other side, sitting next to his wife and holding her hand comfortingly. He could feel her pulse rocket on her wrist, and it was none too reassuring.
Chris entered the driver's seat, tossing his keys back and forth between his hands as he waited for Ben. He looked drastically different- instead of the bright green, messy spikes atop his head, he had a normal haircut of a chestnut color, and he looked considerably more fit than he had in the years prior.
“So, er... Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada?” he tried striking conversation, although no one seemed in the mood for it. “That's... err...”
“Boring?” Des quipped. “Snowy? Pimping? Lame? A mouthful?”
“...it's something.”
“Yeah, I'm sure it is,” she snapped, reclining further back into her seat. Kyle noticed her anxiety, and ran a hand through her short blue hair. She sighed, frowning but grateful.
It was around then Ben opened his door. He nodded reassuringly to Kyle and Des, and moved into his seat. Suddenly, he did a double take, and upon noticing Bryan, asked “Wait... what do we do about the baby?”
Chris sighed. “...goddamnit,” he groaned. “I didn't plan for any of our former members...”
“Having a baby?” Ben finished.
“I was just going to say getting laid in general, but whatever floats your boat.” Chris turned back towards Des and said “We're just going to have to wing it until we get to our hotel. You can meet with the others there, and we'll figure out what to do with the kid. Just... hold on tight, and I'll try to be careful.”
Des didn't bother questioning anything, because there was too much to question. She simply nodded and held Bryan closer to her chest. “Be careful,” she ordered.
Chris nodded. “I'll try.” Before Des could snap back, Ben slapped the German in the arm. Chris shouted in surprise but regained his composure, driving down the road their house was on.
As they drove through Regina, it was Ben's turn to try and strike reluctant conversation. “So...” he started, “...cute baby. How old is he?”
“Eight months,” Des responded, turning the baby towards Ben so he could see him.
“He's a healthy little fella,” Ben smiled. Addressing the baby, he stated somewhat goofily “Look at you, young lad! Just a strapping looking boy! I can tell!” Bryan laughed as a result, clapping his hands.
Des was a bit confused as to where Ben's skill with babies came from, but couldn't help but smile at the scene. Kyle noticed, and smiled as well.
Ben chuckled, a bit embarrassed, and Des could notice a solemn tint in his expression. “So, what's the boy's name?” he asked politely.
“Oh...” Des sighed. “We named him Bryan.”
The mood turned a bit melancholic as Ben nodded. “In... memory?” he inquired awkwardly.
“Yes,” Kyle spoke up this time. “In memory.”
It fell silent after that, and Ben faced forward again. A few minutes later, Chris broke the silence. “Okay, just so you know, we're going to be going by our codenames again soon enough, just as we did before in the city.”
“Does... this have to do with the city?” Kyle inquired.
“No! Just your old friends who have scattered across the world gathering back together to save their lives... having a bloody picnic!” Chris replied helpfully.
Ben rolled his eyes. “You're a right asscheek, you know that?” The insult only gathered a snigger from Chris, so Ben continued in annoyance. “But, yes, this has to do with the city. I can't say much more than that for now but it will definitely have something to do with that.
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “But the city's been empty for seven years! How could this have anything to do with it?”
“I swear, it'll make sense later,” Ben reiterated. “You'll also be meeting with your old friends as well; well, some of them. But when things get thick, we will be using our codenames- do you remember yours?”
Kyle nodded. “I'm Venexis.”
Des followed suit. “Mysti.”
Ben nodded. “And I'm Buffooner, as you probably know. And that over there is Right Asscheek,” Chris snickered again, “better known as our glorious Suyo.”
He smiled once more in an attempt to reassure. “Good that we can recall that. Anyway, we don't have long until we get to our hotel. Then we're going to take a flight out of here, and we should be at our destination in a couple of days. Some of the other staffers are rounding up our other friends, and we ourselves have a stop to make. Just bear with us, okay?”
Des nodded. What else could she do? Kyle kept silent, but Ben didn't take that as a negative response as he faced forward again.
Eventually, Kyle sighed, his head in his hands. Des put a hand on his shoulder and asked “What's wrong, hun?”
Kyle groaned, facing his wife and stating “I left the sink running, Des. I'm an idiot.”
Des raised an eyebrow, but took his hand and whispering gently “Kyle, I think that's the least of all our problems right now.”
A/N Ah, yes. Here's a start. So, yeah, this is me taking the idea of RL/Runouw mix and making something great out of it. At least, better than TRC. XD
And yes, before you ask, the two scenes are connected. You'll find out more later. The first chapter or two will focus on people gathering up and other such things, and then the story will really kick into high gear. I hope you guys enjoy... and review! Please! XD I mean, I'm doing this for you guys!
MoD
Chapter 2-Organized
A/N Hey, guys. I just want to make some things clear- I will be changing some details about the site/city- the history will be different, and I probably won't be including SM63 as it is. Also, I will be changing the ages of some characters that act older than they are. Because when you see the history later... if everyone on the site were teenage boys... no.
I don't know if I will gender swap to make it more realistic, because I don't need to do that to Ridder again, but apparently Foru doesn't mind. But will I be USING foru? o.o read on and find out.
Anyway... Admittedly this chapter is filler, necessary for plot progression. I will reveal more of what's going on, but not much.
Chapter 2-Organized
"Shall we?"
"Agreed."
That was the basis on the 'pre-game' conversation that transpired between Victor Stone and Doram Baramour as they walked up the steps to their first house in scenic Norfolk. And nothing more.
In fact, one would say that was somewhat of a wordy conversation between them.
Doram took the initiative to lead the way, walking up the apartment building's rickety metal stairs as spry as ever. Victor, the elder of the two, took his time, traversing the stairs calmly and with class. Ultimately, Doram got up to the top first, ringing the doorbell and straightening himself out. Victor raised an eyebrow but said nothing, as usual.
Eventually, the door opened, and a woman with cropped black hair opened the door. She had a well built frame, sharp features and overall looked little to nothing like their target.
Doram took it in stride. "Excuse me, ma'am, can you get me Christina Mairo?"
The woman nodded. "You're looking at her."
Victor's eyebrow rose, speaking for both of their surprise.
Christina examined the both of them. "Wait a second... is that..." After a second of recognition's surprise, she smiled. "As I live and breathe. Doram Baramour. It's been too long."
Doram nodded. "Indeed, it has. And... you look so different."
Christina nodded. "Oh, I know. I had a feeling you'd think so. Anyway, shall I invite you in for some tea? I mean, should I find my kettle around here..."
Doram smiled. "I'd actually quite-"
Victor softly elbowed Doram in the side, just enough to get his attention. Christina's eyes shown with the familiar recognition and asked "...Volcove, right? I don't believe we talked much."
Volcove nodded.
Doram blinked and added "I would quite like that; however, we really must be on our way. It is, unfortunately, an emergency."
Christina blinked, but didn't react too much. "Does this have to do with my military days?"
Doram's eyes widened, and even Victor blinked in surprise. Doram was able to say "Actually... no, it's in regards to the city."
Christina shook her head vigorously, in an effort to clear her head rather than disagreement. "Oh, yes... of course. That's why..." she gestured to the two grown men "You're... here." She sighed, her eyes drifting closed for a brief second. "Pardon me, it's been a long day. No, a long seven years."
Victor nodded, and if Doram wasn't mistaken, a look of sympathy rang through them. Doram spoke again. "Anyway... you're going to have to come with us. I'm afraid you can't bring anything with you except the clothes on your back, so... if you have anything in your pockets, I'd advise you leave them here."
"I can live with that," she responded lithely, pulling a phone out of her jean pocket and tossing it into the house, not caring whether it survived or not. She sighed, running a hand through her short hair. "Anyway, shall we?"
Victor nodded, leading the way down the stairs steadily. Christina followed, and Doram brought up the rear. The three silently and calmly walked to the black, tinted Lincoln. Doram and Victor got into the front seats, and Christina sat in the back.
She smiled slightly as she reclined into the seats. "These are... nice," she admitted.
Victor was the first to speak up. "Miss Ammon, I wish I could keep up the small talk; however, we should be getting on with business. This situation is, in fact, serious."
Christina ignored her urge to state how Victor sounded somewhat like Jack McCoy and instead nodded. "So, what's the SNAFU?"
"Our city is being linked to a terrorist attack and now we need to escape from visible sight to keep from being unfairly captured," was all he said. Christina gasped, trying to chew on that.
"That's... a lot..."
Victor nodded. Doram decided to take up the conversation from here. "So, Christina, we're going to take a flight out of here as soon as we can, and then we'll rendezvous with the others."
Quick as a whip, she replied "Not a public flight, surely? That's much too risky and lord knows we're on the flight risk list."
"Of course," Doram chuckled. "Trust us. We know exactly what we're doing."
"I figured. Just checking. It's... habit."
Victor nodded, and everyone fell silent. Christina let her thoughts drift off as the car coasted along the streets and, eventually, onto the distant freeways. She observed Victor, and realized that not only did he sound like Jack McCoy, he rather looked like him, too. He sure aged since she last saw him- what was he now? 51? He seemed centuries old, just in his behavior.
And Doram... actually, Doram looked like he always did. Somewhat short, just a smidge portly, but not to a fault. His hair was still short and brown, his eyes still green, his smile still warm. He approached his forties with grace, and cheer, most likely.
She wondered why she wasn't worried too much about the situation at hand. Her life was at risk.
Again.
Perhaps that was it.
--------------------------------
Des collapsed against the hotel bed. Right. Hotel. Right. Bed.
Apparently Chris's idea of a hotel was a worn down little cabin in the middle of nowhere. Okay, so most of Canada was classified as 'the middle of nowhere.' But this was the middle of the middle of nowhere. And the cabin leaked, and it was annoying her. She counted every raindrop from her cot as it fell into the metal bucket.
Not exactly the most subtle introduction to the life on the lam.
At that moment, Kyle tried to open the door.
Right. Tried. Right. Door. Pretty much everything was a shoddy performance was what it should be.
The large, nailed in plank of wood didn't quite move enough, and so Kyle continued to push it forward. It was annoyingly unrelenting, though. With an exasperated sigh, she got out of her cot and pulled on the board, budging it open enough for Kyle and Bryan to pass through.
Kyle chuckled, embarrassed, and said "I... could have gotten that."
"Mmhmm."
Kyle smiled comfortingly, handing the baby to Des. She seemed to calm down as she wrapped him in her arms, and Kyle was grateful for that. Taking a seat on a rickety stool, he announced "Well, Ben says the pilot should be here by tomorrow with an able enough plane. Then we'll gather in the meeting spot."
"Hope to god it's not another hotel."
As Des reclined on the cot, Kyle frowned slightly. He adjusted himself on the stool to avoid a fall and studied her from across the room, and he had a feeling she was going to speak soon.
She confirmed his suspicions. "Kyle... what the hell?" she asked, gazing at the leaky roof. A drop of water hit her nose and splashed across her face.
"...what do you mean?" he asked, fearing that he wasn't helping anything.
"...I dunno," she added, frustration seeping into her voice. "That's all I can think, all I can think." Her emphasis increased on every word. "The ground's been pulled out from underneath me. And... I'm frightened."
Kyle sighed in understanding. It wasn't often his wife complained about anything, and if she did, it was either in a self deprecating way or an a subliminal message kind of way. He knew that she was troubled. And he was too.
He sat there, not knowing what to say, and it frustrated him, because he wanted something to say, badly. He knelt down by the cot so he was face level with Des. She didn't face him, and Kyle figured that she apparently found the ceiling hypnotic. He just sat there, watching her watch the ceiling, and that was how it stayed. And it was troubling, painful. It just didn't feel right. But right now, nothing was right.
-----------------------------
"We're here, Miss Mairo."
"Jack?" Christina mumbled as she broke from her nap in the back of the Lincoln. She came to her senses and saw that Victor had opened the door for her. She yawned, unbuckled, and moved out of the car. Without missing a beat, she followed the two men through a field of wheat.
It was a half mile's walk through the field, not that Christina minded. It was nice there, very scenic and calming. Allowed her to focus. Ironically the dreamy scene helped her out of her last bits of sleep.
Eventually, a small plane came into sight. Nothing fancy, but nice enough. No words were needed as the three of them traversed the last bits of the field to the plane.
When they just started to arrive, Christina asked "So, who's the pilot? Is he with us?"
Doram nodded. "You pick up fast," he stated, and left it at that.
The idea was nice, so she quickened her pace towards the plane, and found her there in less than half a minute. Stepping in the small coach, she noticed that the plane looked like a commercial flight, only smaller, fit for ten people. She noticed that there were three people already there, reclined into their seats. More members?
She searched through the crowd, trying to identify them, but came up a bit short. She had a feeling she could spot Garrett in there somewhere, but what did she know? She took a seat in the front, next to another young man near her own age of two and a half decades.
"Hello," she stated simply, watching as the boy turned towards her. They both recognized a glint of recognition in each others eyes as they recognized each other.
It was he who spoke, eyes widening. "Aro?" he mumbled in surprise.
She smiled back. "Sax!"
Nothing more needed to be said as the two old friends embraced each other for the first time in years, shaking.
"I'm sorry," Sax stated with a breaking voice. "I swore I was going to keep in touch."
"It's alright," Christina responded lamely. "It's alright, Michael."
They pulled apart, and Christina straightened her hair. She noted that Sax still recognized her through the change of her looks, and didn't comment on the transformation. And it was simpler that way.
Doram stepped into the plane, taking a seat in the back. Victor took the front seat next to a bearded man and a suited woman. Aro heard the members greet the three of them, and she replied with the customary return greetings. She felt a sliver of the community returning from once before.
The pilot took a look in the back, and Christina immediately recognized him. Foster Barton, or Highwire. He smiled, stating "Welcome, Christina. I suppose we shall take off, as we have two more stops to hit before the big rendevous."
Christina nodded and smiled. Victor declared "We should leave now. Time is of the essence."
"Then to New York or bust," he replied, and then proceeded to sing Frank Sinatra's song. As the plane proceeded to take off from the dirt, she smiled, closing her eyes as she heard Micheal's breath next to her. Things were somewhat rickety now, but they would get better. The team was getting back together.
A/N It’s baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Just in time for awards season, too.
To quote Lil Wayne “I’m sorry for that mothaf**kin wait.” I was just figuring out where to go with this, but after finishing “The Girl Who Played With Fire” for some reason I wanted to write this again. I wonder why, but maybe it had something to do with his writing style- very matter of fact and cold, even when the events were not. I’m probably not going to emulate that much at all, but it made me think of how I wrote, and I decided what the hell I’ll write this again.So now we’re going to pick it up where I left off. Enjoy!
Chapter 3
Then Meets Now
It was difficult to describe the bond between Caitlin Alistair and Austin Chau. It fell somewhere in between the partnership of their fellow agents- not as quiet and professional as Doram and Victor, but not with the friendly banter that Ben and Chris partook in. It was interesting indeed, and not something that could be easily named so neither of the two attempted to.
“When I thought of New York,” Caitlin stated as she drove the Camry through a lonely back highway, “this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, to be honest.”
Chau nodded in recognition, glancing out the window at the open fields and spaces of the lower Catskill range. “A lot more… country… than I expected.”
“And we’re only a few hours away from the Apple,” Caitlin observed. “Although the traffic’s so bad that we’ve probably not gone a hundred miles away from there yet.”
He nodded again, cracking a small grin before pushing his glasses up and positioning the map in front of him. “So, we’ve got a few more minutes until we hit Livingstone Manor. Where’s Mic supposed to be again?”
“Mic? Oh!” It took Caitlin a second to register who Mic was, as she had not made his acquaintance well enough before he departed the community five years before it shut down. “Our Jared Weiss is somewhere within this town. I’m not exactly sure where, but the town’s got about a thousand people in it so we may be able to find him relatively easy.”
Chau smirked. “Try the synagogue,” he cracked.
The humor was quite lost on Caitlin, who just blinked and asked “Oh, he’s Jewish?”
Chau sighed, but it wasn’t her fault she was so puzzled. “Yes, but I honestly doubt he was there. Let’s just wing it once we get downtown, alright?”
“Okay…” she blinked, focusing back on the road. She hated to be the oblivious one out of the loop. In this case, though, it couldn’t really be helped. She spotted the exit and steered the car onto it and quietly entering the city, which in and of itself was quiet indeed. In different circumstances, it would have been relaxing.
Admittedly, it was relaxing even then.
“So, about this ‘Mic’,” Caitlin began her request. “What exactly is he like? Do you have any idea what he may be doing?”
Chau laughed in a sudden, short burst. “Ah, don’t get me started on Mic. We’ll be here for hours.” Even Caitlin, as distant from their relationship as she was, had to spare a smile as his words reminded her of her own friends with a sad smile. “Well, then, can you grant me the basics?”
“No problem,” he replied cordially. “Child prodigy for sure. He’s probably twenty four by now. His parents sort of sheltered him, but that wasn’t why he found his way to Runouw’s City, and they knew he was there. He loved music, as long as it was no newer than the late eighties, otherwise he’d have half a mind to go Simon Peter on his own ears. Very sharp, sarcastic sense of humor, stemmed from of a love for Monty Python and classic movies.”
Caitlin’s grin became a little more sincere, even if it didn’t change. “Sounds like a character.”
“Sure is,” he confirmed, keeping an eye out for said character and not minding the small wave of nostalgia that came with him. Luckily, it didn’t take him long to spot him, and when he did, he burst out in laughter surpassing even his bursts from earlier. Caitlin, by now completely alienated, pulled over into a parking spot along one of the main streets and gave her partner a quizzical look.
Chau noticed and suppressed his laughter long enough to state “Oh, sorry. I found him.”
“That’s great,” she replied, “but I don’t get what’s funny about that.” Staring out the window, she saw a few people walking around a man with a guitar in front of a tavern, with a hat set out for change. “I mean, you act like he’s the homeless man across the st… he’s the homeless man across the street, isn’t he?”
Chau started laughing again. “To be honest, that’s exactly how I pictured him.”
“Oh…” she found herself surprised and a bit underwhelmed to see a former legendary moderator playing guitar on the streets he lived in. “Guess that whole child prodigy thing didn’t work out?”
“Well,” his reply was hesitant. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
“Certainly,” she agreed, opening her door and watching out for occasional traffic. She let Chau cross the street, as he would be better to introduce the two to his old friend. She looked in her side mirror for just a moment, straightening her hair hesitantly and then immediately wondering what possessed her to do so given the circumstances which didn’t really call for it.
Shaking the thought, she caught up with Chau across the street, who stood aloof from the supposed Microphone, and Caitlin had this deep-down feeling that he was probably looking for the best (or wittiest) opening line to introduce himself with. She took a place out of the spotlight as Chau stood stationary with a half-smirk on his face, looking over his friend.
The silence was broken with “If you’re looking for the ramen, the store’s that way,” as the man pointed to the east. Chau’s smirk turned to a look of flabbergast and he became even more stationary. As soon as his partner saw him, it sealed the deal, and she burst out into a fit of laughter that made Chau’s reaction look unfazed.
The self-confirmed Jared Weiss gave a crooked, amused look to the woman standing with his old friend and stated wryly, hoisting himself off of the ground “Jared Weiss, ma’am. Nice to meet you.”
Caitlin nodded as she fought her laughter, keeping herself on her feet while being able to say “I’m so sorry… er, Caitlin Alistair. Nice to meet you, it truly is.”
Jared seemed to look more and more amused as he observed the supposedly professional young woman. Chau eventually shook out of his annoyed surprise and welcomed his friend with “You ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥. How are ya?”
On his feet, Jared took his friend’s hand and shook it vigorously, and finally Chau allowed himself to smile, even knowing that he lost that verbal battle. The two exchanged a brotherly hug for the briefest of moments before letting each other go.
Jared turned his attention to Caitlin, who had used their brotherly moment to dust her clothes off, straighten her hair and pretend that nothing had just transpired when it so obviously had. “Caitlin Alistair, eh? Name sounds familiar. Are you one of those women who visited me after a show?”
Caitlin turned fiery red. “Uh, I don’t believe so. I was in the city, with Chau. Just before you left.”
Jared snapped his fingers as his memory succeeded him. “Ah, of course! MP3 Amplifier or something or other, right?”
Caitlin nodded. “Exactly, you’re right. Microphone, if the papers I have with me don’t lie.”
Jared nodded as well. “You have it exactly right. Welcome to Livingstone Manor. Look around, you’ll see half the city’s population.”
Caitlin found herself actually looking around. “Well, if the population’s twenty people, I’d be inclined to concur,” she replied, only immediately afterward aware that she was entirely too literal about things and sighed in veiled embarrassment. Jared’s only response was to wink lightly, undeterred. Caitlin immediately became the last of the three to don a smirk, knowing full well that she was in no small crowd of people who received the supposed rocker’s supposed charm. All she responded with was a knowing, amused look that stated better than words that she was no fool.
Chau observed their dynamic and cracked “Well you two seem to have hit it off.”
“Don’t get jealous Chau,” Jared replied. “I only have eyes for you.”
“And me and about a thousand other women,” Caitlin interjected acutely, looking over her shoulder. If she was going to keep time with those two verbal warriors, she better start practicing now.
Jared raised his eyebrow again before bending down to put his guitar in a black leather case. “You’re getting better,” he commented offhandedly, making sure his acoustic was put away snugly. “Although you’ve a ways to go. I’m surprised Chau hasn’t already taught you well.”
“I hadn’t a clue that witty banter was something I needed to learn on the job.” Caitlin was torn between whether she liked the somewhat cocky, lighthearted guitarist or if she had already had her fill of him. It was an odd thought to entertain, because more than a decade ago, back when he was a leader of the city, she would have respected him fully as she did the other leaders. Out here, though, the playing field was evened. In fact one could even say that she was the one with the upper hand.
Well, there I go. Much too cerebral again.
Finally, Chau seemed to get a grip on what they had actually gone there to do. “Oh, well damn, I almost forgot why I was here,” he started.
“Not just to visit an old bro?” Jared quipped, although he did seem somewhat slighted.
He shook his head. “I wish. There’s kind of a big situation going on, and-“ he stopped himself again, to the slight chagrin of Caitlin, as his eyes lit up with recognition towards a person just exiting the tavern with two drinks in hand. Caitlin followed his gaze towards the person, faintly recognizing as well- if only because that person was easily quite androgynous. Their facial features were soft, yet sharp, with piercing blue eyes and full lips. Hair was shoulder-length and glossy white, cut in a mullet of some short. Seemingly tall, but only because he or she was as skinny as a toothpick, with a chest that had the slightest amount of lift- potentially nothing of note at all. The clothing was little help, with tight skinny jeans and a loose black t-shirt.
“Holy hell,” Chau laughed, not wasting a moment. “Ridder? How the hell did you get-“
Ridder gave a short laugh, not minding that a curious Caitlin hung on every word. Her attempts at determining the mysterious person’s gender were dashed as she realized that their voice was just as baseless in gender as their appearance- a mixture of soft and leather that was somewhere between Sigourney Weaver and Adam Levine in pitch.
Unsatisfied, Caitlin turned her attention to Jared, who wasted no time in introducing the two to Ridder. “Everyone, Dana Li, also known as Ridder.”
Great. Even the name is androgynous. Something told Caitlin that Ridder, or Dana Li, was having way too much fun with this- a notion further clarified when Dana spotted the frustration evident in her eyes and simply smirked before immediately turning her attention to her two long-time friends.
“Chau, Chau, Chau,” Dana began. “What strange fate-powered UFO drops you here in the only small town in the nation that holds two of your oldest friends? Certainly no coincidence.”
Chau struggled to formulate a thought before settling with “…I’m sorry. I just can’t get over the fact that you happen to be here too. I didn’t expect that in the slightest.”
Dana smirked. “Trust me, Chau, I’m a failure if I’m not gloriously off the radar.”
Jared nodded. “A pure coincidence of some sort, honestly. I happened to run into Dana a few weeks back, while he-she was hitchhiking somewhere in Delaware. I happened to be the hitchhikee after I immediately recognized the only male-looking female or feminine male I’ve ever seen.”
“And you’ve been in love ever since,” Chau declared.
The two potential lovers stared at each other quizzically for a moment, before breaking the mood with raucous laughter, clearly ridiculing the idea so naturally that it was hard to accuse them of lying. “Trust me, Chau, I make it a point not to get involved with anyone whose gender I do not know.”
“You mean Ridder still hasn’t told anyone?” Cait interjected before she could help herself.
Still laughing, Dana responded with “Where’s the fun in that?” A few wordless moments passed before Dana snapped its fingers again, saying “Ah, yes! I knew I recognized you. You’re Miss MP3 Amplifier, former ruler of all things holy and architectural in our fair city of old. Slaughterer of mediocrity with a heart of gold and the mannerisms of a tripping mule.”
“I think that last one is a little over-exaggerated,” Caitlin protested. “But yes, you’re right. Caitlin Alistair. A, uhm, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Chau glanced at his partner, who seemed very much out of her comfort zone- certainly no uncommon feeling around someone like Ridder, even aside from looks. It was looking at her that reminded him once more of why they were there, and he stated “Anyway, guys, you keep distracting me. I’m here because we need to leave here, now.”
“Oh?” Jared raised an eyebrow, securing his guitar over his shoulder.
“Yes,” Caitlin confirmed. “There’s something dangerous going about, and the safety of those who were involved with our old city, and we need to get you to a safe place.”
Barely fazed, Dana stated “Spontaneous ♥♥♥♥ just got serious.”
She nodded once more. “Pretty much. In fact I’m rather glad we ran into you, Dana. We had presumed that you were dead too.”
“Whoa, what?” Jared gasped in surprise. Dana seemed just as unaware, stating “Well this is news to me.”
“Yes, it is,” Chau agreed. “To all of us. Now, I need you to be prepared to throw out everything of value. That means your wallets, IDs, cell phones, anything that can be traced directly back to you.”
“So, we’re entering poor man’s WitSec?”
“Pretty much, Dana.”
“I don’t care about ID and money all that much,” Jared stated, “but I’m keeping this guitar. This is a fine, beautiful guitar, even signed by Steve Miller. I’m not giving this up if it kills me.”
Chau glanced over the acoustic. “Agreed. Fine guitar, and I don’t think it would kill you keeping that guitar. Agreed, Caitlin?”
“Fine with me,” she confirmed, heading towards the car. “Just go ahead and hold on to the rest of the stuff until we can find a way to get rid of it.”
“Alright,” Dana cracked its knuckles. “I suppose it’s time we get ready to rumble, right, lady and gents-“ a thunderclap caused Dana’s words to silence, a silence that immediately filled the air. Caitlin looked up at the sky, confused, until she saw that Chau was looking instead towards the ground, horrified to find a bullet clattering on the ground, just at Dana’s feet.
“In the car, friends?” An unharmed Dana suggested.
“Fine idea, old bean.” Jared was already leaping into the back, scooting his guitar to the far right side of the Toyota. Dana immediately followed, the last to enter as Chau got himself situated in the driver’s seat and Caitlin buckled up on the passenger’s side. Another bullet passed through the air, nicking the car just above the left headlight. Steadying himself, Chau began to calmly drive away from the shots being fired.
“Dude, this isn’t driver’s ed,” Jared protested. “Shouldn’t you be gunning it away from the guy shooting us?”
Caitlin glanced back at the township, noticing a small speck of a person on top of a two-story building with a revolver in hand. “Seems like a small-time sniper to me. That gun looks like it would have poor range, a range I’m pretty sure we’re out of.”
“Besides,” Chau explained, “I don’t want attention drawn to us, and I don’t want anyone to think we’re the ones being shot at.”
Jared nodded, relieved to see that the shots being fired were a reasonable distance away from them, nowhere close to hitting. He settled his nerves by watching the surroundings of the County Road heading towards the highway, which had just begun to familiarize themselves in his head. He found himself a bit let down to be leaving a place he was just hoping to become familiar with, but hey, he’d rather not die more than anything.
“So, fair escorts,” Dana spoke up, “where shall we be heading?”
“To a plane. Foster Barton should be pulling in any moment into a corn field twelve miles away. We’ll catch up with about fifteen, twenty others there.”
“Haha, so it is a coincidental UFO of fate.”
“Let’s go with that.”
Silence prevailed for a few pensive minutes before Caitlin filled the void with her next request. “Anyway, guys, we need to trash your personal items- save for the guitar, of course. Hand me your wallets, your cell phones, anything else of the sort.”
With little hesitation, the two got the requested items out. Caitlin said nothing when Dana pulled a wallet-sized picture out of one of the slots, placing it in their pocket, and instead took the small pile of bequeathed objects. Soon enough, when they were adjacent to a small empty patch of grass on the highway’s shoulder, she rolled down their window and tossed everything towards the field they passed.
Looking back at the two slightly puzzled set of eyes, she explained “A red herring, to make sure no one finds us. Odds are, the cops will find those things and make a case out of it, getting so wrapped up in what could have been a robbery or a murder and not think that you were escaping.” Her gaze turned sympathetic as she added “You’re going to have to accept the fact that you may not return to this life at all, because it could mean that you die. I’m sorry it came down to that, but that’s the way it is.”
As was expected, there was no response from either of the two other than brisk nods. She didn’t protest or find it odd. After all, how does respond to something like that?
A/N this whole gathering beginning should be over in a couple of chapters at most. I’ll be getting to the meat of the story really soon, so don’t worry.
Ah, nostalgia. The meeting of these four; Ridder, MIC and Chau in particular, reminded me heavily of my first year here. I look forward to writing these guys in with Buff and others- almost a full house with them. The character slots are nearly filled up, so that’s a good thing. I have a good idea of who I want in, so don’t ask.
Thanks for reading, everyone!
MoD
A/N I believe I may have fallen victim to a forumfiction cliche or two. You'll have to pardon me. Hope you like the chapter nonetheless.
Also, for those who find the time frame kinda funky, there's usually a day or two between each other chapter, as there is in this case.
Chapter 4
In Time
The wind howled up near the far-from-stable cabin that was used to hide the Fitzgerald family. It battered against the old Jeep Cherokee that was fighting its way through the barely-plowed gravel roads that winded around trees and away from steep canyons. The twenty nine year old man steering through sighed as it reminded him of a long lost, familiar time, before he had even thought of the city of Runouw. A time that was almost preferential to the emergency he found himself in right now, alone in this Jeep in the snowcapped wilderness of Saskatchewan, a place he'd be surprised if he spelled right on the first try much less driving through in a snowstorm.
Eventually, he found the place. Having no one to reassure him or calm his nerves was far from how he liked it. He wished that Caitlin could have helped take his mind off the unease, or Doram to give him the knowing look of a mentor far stronger than he. Even Chris' unorthodox humor would have helped him out in this situation.
He wished for a time when reuniting with long lost friends at long last wasn't due to an emergency as much as resolving to set a few days aside and remember that, after all, they are still around and they'd love to hear from you. He heard a few things every now and again, but he was the one who had thought it best that everyone keep out of contact seven years ago. Sometimes the leaders had to make the decisions they'd never stand for as a civilian.
He cleared his throat, feeling the full lonely impact of such a decision. Coordinating the recent efforts of gathering the survivors was his job, one he felt obligated to do after he learned of the danger. It wasn't like an exciting 90s cartoon, like the X Men reuniting to take down evil. How did they do it, knowing that not only were their lives at stake, but those they cared about as well?
And we've already lost so, so many. They don't even know…
Eventually, Cameron forced himself to open the driver's door and step out of the Jeep, his boots crunching against the snow as he went to knock on the giant wooden plank that made up the door. He could easily see inside the squalor conditions they were staying in and commented out loud "Well, that's smooth. Certainly no place for a young family to be staying."
As soon as he realized that he had made his thoughts audible, he heard noises of surprised movement that in turn made him jump. He straightened out his heavy duty jacket (no suit and tie for this occasion, just scarves and sweaters) and prepared to see a couple of people he once considered to be his closest friends.
When he saw Kyle walk out to the door, his heartbeat spiked as he knew there was no turning back now. Not that there was any bad blood between other than the disappointing reality of the decision and the evident knowledge that neither of them, leader and civilian, wanted to go through with the decision Cam had made for the city.
"Hey, Ven," he tried to put on a cheerful expression.
"Hey, Cam," he returned, cracking open the plank of a door and letting Cameron squeeze through the door. It wasn't an easy task, and his coat got stuck several times (his own fault for wearing one with so many pockets and cords) but eventually he made it inside, looking around at their temporary rest stop.
"Can you do me a favor," Cam began, "and please tell me who the hell put you in this place so I can kick their asses later?"
He heard a barely audible giggle from the direction near the cot, where he acknowledged Des and Bryan with a smile.
"Well, I certainly have no problems or regrets with any sort of reveal or ass-kicking," she admitted without guilt. "Chris and Ben. Conveniently they haven't been here in a few hours."
"Probably because they wouldn't want to stay in this place," Kyle added.
Cam growled silently. "And these are our fearless leaders? They trained me better than this." He gave a short laugh at the irony. With everything going on, he had assumed the position of group leader from Chris, the city's foremost leader (seeing as Runouw was more of a figurehead), because Cam was the one coordinating the efforts in the first place.
"Anyway," he said, "I'm actually here to say that you're busting out of this joint. Chris and Ben should be waiting for Foster to land his plane, although if they left five hours I'm assuming that they must have gotten a cup of coffee and watched the re-release of Titanic or some useless ♥♥♥♥." He furrowed his brow and continued to rant. "Seriously, I can't get over how they left you here on your own. What if something happened to you and they weren't here? And if they had to do something important, they should have goddamn told-"
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that both Kyle and Des were tensed up, and even Bryan let out a short cry. Cam blanched, burying his forehead in his hand. Not quite looking up, he began to talk again. "Look, I'm not going to ♥♥♥♥ you because you need to be prepared. We're in a lot of danger, all of us. You're not the only one who's been pulled aside by other ex-leaders. About twenty of us will be gathered together by the end of today, hopefully, on Foster's plane. If we're lucky, there will be more. I can't say much more than that until we have everyone together. Just… watch your back, and keep a clear head. If I have my way, we're all going to be safe. Both of you and…" he looked up at their baby "and your child." He cracked a smile. "That's pretty great. He's a good looking fella, too. He probably has his dad's staggering intelligence and his mother's nuanced wisdom. What did you name him?"
The two parents exchanged a look between them, unsure of whether or not they should tell him. Cam gave a short chuckle that unsuccessfully hid his nervousness. "Come on, I won't tease you or anything if you named him some Renesmee-esque name mashup."
"We named him Bryan," Kyle admitted.
Almost immediately affected, Cameron felt a familiar pit surface in his gut, and he swallowed hard, his face turning into a mixture of shock and sadness. "I… okay."
The conversation lay as a shattered mess on the ground, the words disintegrating into the soaked wood of the cabin. Cameron found himself wishing that he would get a phone call so he could find an excuse to think of something else, anything else, other than a shattered window and sirens and- thank frigging God.
He heard his phone go off and he nearly lunged for the answer button, placing it to his ear before he even knew what he was doing. He could tell that he had alienated both Des and Kyle, but knew that they both understand. "Hello?" he spoke to the phone.
"Cameron," he heard the unmistakable unfazed voice of Victor on the other end. "The plane's just landed. You're with Kyle and Des, correct?"
"That I am," Cam responded. "They have a baby with them, however. We'll have to fit that into the plan."
"That's a bit of a problem," Victor admitted, still not sounding bothered.
"I probably should have factored that in. But I'll figure out. Please tell me that Chris and Ben are there and they have a good reason for leaving them here alone."
"Chau received a phone call from them. They told him it was sort of an emergency, and they'd be late."
"It better be," Cam growled, "and I'm not talking about missing the end of Hunger Games. I'm not happy with them at all. Anywhere, how far away do you think you are from us?"
"I'm surprised you didn't hear the plane descend around you. We're probably a mile down the road- er, field."
"Excellent. Also…"
He could hear Victor laugh at the other end of the line; a rare occurrence, but not to the point of being surprising. "Grace is just fine, Cameron. Don't worry."
"Worry?" Wry amusement seeped into Cam's voice. "I've done nothing else. Anyway, we'll be there soon."
"Good to hear. See you then." The line dropped and he put the phone back in his coat pocket. "Alright, guys. We're ready to hit the road. We'll be on the plane in no time, which should be nice since you can reunite with more long lost friends."
Kyle nodded, venturing to smile as he took Desiree's hand and led her out of the door as Cam struggled to prop it open for the both of them. When they squeezed out, Cam followed and released the plank, watching it reverberate against the wall while he walked to his side of the car. Soon enough, the Jeep found itself bumping along the snowy fields and barely visible dirt road and towards the plane.
----------------------
"Why do I have a feeling," Chris mumbled, "that Cameron is going to kick our asses when we get back?"
"Because I can imagine him blowing a gasket given the circumstances," Ben replied, steering the car through the backroads. "I just hope he can kindly understand our own plight."
"Do you think he's going to make it?" Chris asked him, visibly nervous as he stared at the man in the backseat, visibly in pain as he stared out of the bleeding gunshot wound in his calf. Upon hearing Chris' words, his look was compounded with one of heightened terror.
"Damn it, Chris," Ben groaned. "Stop scaring Tanner like that. He was shot in the leg, not the heart. I think he'll be worse for wear but he's going to live."
"I'm not being an ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥," Chris insisted, glaring out the window and across the empty fields. "I'm actually kind of legitimately concerned for the guy, something I know seems like a foreign concept to you but certainly isn't that far off of a guess. Now let's get to the plane before they decide to rain another bit of Touhou on us, alright?"
Ben nodded. "Sorry, Chris," he said, barely audible as he followed the road through the snow. "I'm kind of freaked too, obviously. I can't believe there are people everywhere hunting for us."
"Me either," Chris replied. "I didn't know that the Mounties were so badass." He looked back at Tanner, giving the young Asian man a reassuring smile. "Guess you really can't underestimate Canada, now can you?"
"Nope," he choked out, still feeling inflamed in his leg but grateful for Chris's humor.
"Guess we can add snipers to the cool things Canada gives us," he continued with a wink. "Snipers, Jim Carrey, maple syrup, block bosses, and that South Park song."
Tanner had to crack a laugh when he heard the line about the block boss, but immediately stopped as he felt the searing wound in his leg. "Damn it, Chris, your humor is going to be the death of me."
"Apologies all around," Chris nodded, still smiling as he turned back forward, glancing out at the clear field. "How much longer until the plane?" he whispered. "I'm kind of freaked for Kevin there."
"I reckon another half mile," Ben replied. "Hold on tight, Tanner. You'll be just fine."
"So will everything," Chris couldn't help but smile, feeing renewed hope. "In time."
The mood in the car was broken when Ben heard a dent hit the car on Chris' side, and a soft popping sound. "Goddamn it," he muttered. "Did I get a flat tire or so-"
When he turned to his right, he saw Chris slumped down, head between his legs, still smiling. "Chris, you okay?" He tried to shake the man, but he didn't budge. Uneasy, he looked to the right side of Chris' body, gasping when he saw a clear, circle hole in his side, right along the same length of his heart. There was no question that he was dead before he even knew it.
"Oh, no," he whispered.
"What?" Tanner demanded urgently.
"We've got to get out of here," Ben's voice was monotone but shook like a branch in a gale. "I'm going to speed up. Be careful."
Tanner barely had time to brace himself before Ben hit the gas, shredding snow on both sides of him. The car hit numerous bumps in the road, and he had to block Tanner's agonized shouts and curses as he poured his adrenaline into the gas petal. When the plane finally came within sight, he skidded to a halt near it, grateful that the Cherokee was parked near it as well. Kyle and Desiree had just boarded the plane and Cameron was close to as well.
Ben swung his door open. "Cameron! Get Tanner inside, now!"
"Tanner? What the hell? What's up?"
"No time! Just get him, goddamn it! He's been shot. There's no time!"
MoD leapt over the stairs, pouncing off of the ground and opening the side door, trying to be as gentle as he could as he yanked Tanner out of the car and up the stairs, not even noticing Chris lying dead next to Ben. Swiftly enough, the two were up on the plane, probably finding someone with the slightest amount of surgical ability to help them.
Ben didn't want to, but he found himself taking one last look at Chris, or Suyo, both names for the same person, both synonymous with him. The smile permanently etched on his face Ben knew would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. Furious and aflame with many bitter emotions, he slammed his head into the steering wheel, activating the horn on a long, unbroken streak.
"♥♥♥♥!" he shouted, breaking down by slamming his fist on the dashboard. "What the ♥♥♥♥ do you want from us? What the ♥♥♥♥ is your problem! What the ♥♥♥♥ did we ever ♥♥♥♥ do to you?"
He couldn't stand to be here another moment, nor would it be logical to. He got up and slammed the door open as the horn's blare disappeared as quickly as it started. He didn't bother to shut the car door as he dashed up the stairs to the plane, slamming the door shut. He noticed Kevin taking up a whole row of seats, four people not hesitating to stand up for his sake. He noticed someone working on the gory mess that was his leg- he believed it was Mark. Still feeling haunted, he approached Cameron, who immediately took alarm at his tormented expression. "What the hell?" he whispered.
"Chris is dead," he replied just as quietly. "The ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ shot him."
"Oh my god," Cameron found the nearest empty seat and collapsed in it, grasping the armrests. "Who did it?"
"I don't know. A sniper, but I don't know who."
"Jesus Christ," Cam sighed. "Goddamn it… Ben, go up there and tell Foster to get a move on. The sooner we can get back, the better."
"Alright," Ben replied. "But what about everyone else? What do you want them to do?"
"Pray we make it through the flight in one piece." He wasn't joking.
Ben nodded and walked up to the cabin. Cameron groaned, visibly broken by the news. Not only was Chris dead, Cam knew he was easily the number one target at this point. He, Chris and Bryan were the three with the highest amount of power in the city. Now Chris and Bryan were both dead.
Cameron wasn't going to lie and put on a brave face. He couldn't pull it off. He was terrified of dying and of death. He didn't want to die; he couldn't ever explain how much he didn't want to die. He looked to his right, sighing in relief as he realized at least she was still alive.
"Cameron?" Grace asked him, tapping his arm. "Bro, you okay?"
Cameron could feel the tears prickling his eyes as he looked at his little sister, relieved that she was still alive and frightened because he knew she could die at any moment. She may have been twenty years old now, but he was just as protective of her as he was when she was a nine year old kid with hair of as many varying colors as Ramona Flowers and an obsession with anything related to animals.
"Not really," he admitted.
"Christ," she closed her eyes. "I'm sorry about Suyo."
"How did you know?" he gasped.
"You don't exactly whisper when you think you whisper," she explained with a teasing smirk that, while normally annoyed her brother, brought him a bit of comfort. He chuckled softly, trying to force himself to relax.
"You're going to have to tell them eventually," she reminded him.
"About Suyo?" he replied, knowing that wasn't the answer.
"About everyone," she corrected him, just like he knew she would.
"I know," this time he truly was quiet, so much that she didn't hear him this time. She still knew what he meant- he didn't want to, but he knew he had to. She gave his arm a squeeze, adding "you don't have to right now. You don't look well at all."
"No, really?"
She smacked him instead. "Wow, thanks," she snapped, smirking. Cam gave her a certain look somewhere between aggravation and truce but found the ability to relax, leaving the world behind for a short time.
---------------------
Tony looked at the artificial metal of his cell wall. Surprisingly, it looked just as he envisioned a maximum security federal prison would look. He knew he should be fazed, or at least should try to be, but he found himself uncaring about his own fate. Either he'd be rescued, released or even escape without harm or would be killed because he wouldn't talk. Both seemed positive enough to him. They already took everything else away from him. What did he have to lose?
He knew that his friends certainly had a lot to lose, and had already lost a lot. Around 20 surviving, around four hundred dead and only one detained. He was that one, and he certainly wasn't going to make anything easy.
He could hear the guards coming down the hall, and he knew they were coming for him. There was no one else locked up here after all. He anticipated another round of questioning, something that used to terrify him but by now gave him no reaction. Torture used to scare him, affect him. Now it was just as routine as eating ramen for lunch.
They'd never get him to talk. He was close before, but the more they attacked him, the quieter he became. It was sort of counterproductive at this point.
He smiled, very eager to mess with them. It was all he had left to do at this point.
Bring it on.
A/N So, things get more explained here… more or less. Enjoy.
Chapter 5
Codes and Keys
Things are still so very wrong here, so very wrong. People begin to vanish from the city day after day. They just disappear, fade away before my eyes. I call after them, beg them to stay, but they disappear as if they don't hear me. No one ever seems to hear me, it seems.
It shouldn't surprise me when I deduce that maybe I have legitimately lost my mind, and it doesn't; it just depresses me. I wonder if I even exist, if maybe everyone else is alive and I'm not, just a ghost trembling through the air unaware of his own fate. For good measure, one day I find myself bashing my head against a brick wall to make sure I still feel and I don't melt through. I don't get anything except a raging headache, so I know I may still exist, but no one notices me still.
Perhaps I'm in limbo. The idea's not totally crazy; a long while back MoD did this huge construction project through The Designer to create a film about limbo called Dark for a contest awhile back, way before people started disappearing. It won a lot of awards, too…
The Designer.
I have to wonder.
I find my way through the streets until I find the entrance of the control panel. The building itself is small, a solid black with red stripes, but the creations it is capable of are certainly not. I push against the front door, and it gives easily. Usually, this place is pretty guarded- the designs are usually created on home computers and given to the Designer Moderators for them to approve. If they did, your creation was as good as real.
I walk through quietly- I'm pretty sure no one notices me still, but I'm still worried about getting caught and getting in trouble. The control panel is simple and complex at the same time- it is often as simple as taking the submitted blueprint and inserting it into the port, but there is a complex panel to use in case any edits need to be done. When it's in the port, it shows up as virtual reality that can be entered by the moderator to test for themselves. When it's completely ready, the matter is placed into a metal box and taken to an empty lot, something that is certainly common around here. When it's there, they plug the box into an outlet on the far edge of the lot. From there, the matter explodes and uses whatever wizardry Runouw himself put into this strange set of devices to become a true, living form, just as the creator intended it. It's truly unlike anything else.
This is a very volatile creation, however. The long term goal is to use it to construct inhabitable cities and to create an empire from the dust of nothingness. Such an idea, however, has always been thought to be too good to be true, so when the city was created, the idea was that there would be eleven years of successful testing for the Designer before it was used for its proper purpose. Until then, it was used for contests, for movie sets and for other experiments, while the city itself was constructed in the more traditional ways by near years of blood, sweat and tears by Runouw himself and Superyoshi.
At the height of its popularity, nearly ten thousand people lived in the city of Runouw, and all were encouraged to try this new technology, with an abundance of testing grounds for one to try it out. They were literally all over the place, some straggling and alone, most in giant parking garage-like towers with lots stacked on top of each other, each floor adjustable in height and size. Everyone had one free lot, but could gain more by winning contests or earning grants for their work. As such, a hierarchy was established, where famous expert designers like Volcove could own multiple lots and become celebrities while most stuck with their one lot happily. The Designer was the foundation of the city, even if it wasn't the only thing.
The city was formed on January 1st, 2009. The new year.
Today is December 9th, 2019. The testing period is almost over, and the city is about to usher in a new era of life.
At least, it was, before it became what it is today; a dusty shell of what once was with people who may not even be real and with a hope that seems gone by now.
Feeling at unease, I find a cool blue file cabinet next to the panel that faces the virtual reality window. I find that it opens with ease, revealing many blueprints that are in pristine shape. They are all in the form of flash drives with small labels on them strewn around randomly, barely legible and mostly consisting of initials anyway. I take a look through some of them.
"TotPG-Vol"
"AoF-M&VInc"
"EM-41"
"Colony-K321"
"CG(GitC)Cryo"
No good. These are all contest entries. I slam the drawer shut in frustration and go a drawer below, hoping I can find what I'm looking for in independent works. I yank open the drawer, looking through the labels once more.
"TRC1-MoD"
"Daily-MoD"
"WoA-MoD"
"Para-MoD"
"L,E-MoD"
And, honestly… it was always like that, the independent drawer, almost entirely full with MoD's works and stories. The man honestly had an extraordinary amount of time on his hands, but I can barely remember any of his works, except one of them. But finding it would be like finding a specific needle in a needlestack. I sigh and start moving them around more when I hear a door slam open. Panicked, I slam the cabinet shut and leap out of the chair, trying not to get-
"Whoa, what the heck, sir, are you lost?"
I screech to a halt, my initial thought being Damn, I'm in trouble now, but as I replay the voice in my head, I realize that I've never heard that voice in my life. It's a woman's voice, and she can't be much older than twenty. It's plainly American, with a subtle hint of a mid-western American accent that was unlike any of the women I had befriended here before. The city had a population more skewed towards male members, with 70% of the population being male, and a scant few females being among prominent members. Then, another realization hits me- she's addressing me. She's talking to me. I don't remember the last time that happened, someone talking directly to me.
I turn around to see her, and my suspicions are confirmed in the fact that this woman is definitely around twenty years old, with bright red hair that extends down to her shoulders, somewhat unkempt, although I'm not in a position to judge. She's oddly tall, just over my own height, with a pale olive skin and the oddest violet eyes. She's wearing a skirt that goes to her knees, plain black stockings, hiking boots and a light pink hoodie that isn't over her head. She looks… incredibly, incredibly out of place here.
"What the hell…" I have plenty of ways to finish that question. Are you doing here? Are you? Is your problem? Is everyone else's problem? …am I certifiably insane? Is wrong with the city? I can't find it in me to finish that sentence, though.
"I… I'm surprised to see anyone here, actually," she admitted, scratching the back of her neck. "Like, everyone is gone. I thought I was the only one here."
"Really?" I reply my default, feeling no control in my words. "Because, I'm seeing people around here, all the time. I mean, they never say anything but they're he…"
Great. I just revealed to this woman that I am out of my mind. I'm not eager to see her reaction but I look anyways, feeling relief as she says "You might be right, I don't know. This place is just so out of whack that I may actually end up being certifiably insane."
"So I'm not the only one," I exhale. "Well, that's terrific."
"I guess we can be insane together," she shrugs with a slight, off kilter smile. I can't help but return it. "Anyway," she continues. "I'm… okay, between you and me, I'm sure neither of us are allowed to be here, but if they really wanted us out, they wouldn't have made it so easy to get in here. Therefore, I frankly don't give much of a darn."
I break out laughing, if only because I'm so glad to be hearing another human addressing me with any form of humor. I must look to be an unstable mess, leaning against the panel with my dusty clothes and my shaggy beard and laughing myself to near hysterics. She gives a snort, quipping "Obvious logic, my dear Watson." She sighs, almost longingly, although that could be said for either of us. "Anyway, I'm looking for a file here, a long lost one, one I desperately need. Have you seen it?"
I shrug. "I've seen at least fifty by MessengerOfDreams, and that's without even looking."
"Perfect!" she declares. "That's what I need. Which drawer?"
I open the independent work drawer and allow her to sift through. She does intently, shuffling the drives around while I sit at the control panel, feeling incredibly antsy. I hear a soft "Mm-hmm" from her as she picks one out and sets it on the control panel next to me, label down.
"Found it?" I ask.
"Yep, yep," she confirms, preparing to shut the drawer when she adds "Wait a second…"
"What?" I'm beyond curious and far from patient.
"I found something… incredibly interesting, I remember; from a long while back… let me get it out." She pulls out a second flash drive out before shutting the door. Before I can bother to look at the first, she's snatched it up and placed it in her jacket pocket. She takes the second one and hands it to me, asking "put it in?"
I look at the label. It reads "WoW-MoD." I don't remember it, but I vaguely recognize it as What Once Was, a city-based movie from 2012 which was one of a sub-genre of faux-historical dramas the city would create starring its own citizens. It seemed a bit superfluous, but the citizens often saw it as a way of looking towards the hopeful future.
What Once Was finished a short time before this city became so empty. I only nod silently as I place it in the drive reader, waiting for it to load up on the virtual reality screen. The girl takes a seat next to me, also watching eagerly and huddling into her coat.
To my surprise, the space comes up on the screen as entirely empty, with a large grid of black lines against a blue screen, a sight usually seen when there's nothing but a blank template in the drive. "Darn it," the girl hisses, slamming her fist against the panel. "This must have been mislabeled or something."
I shrug. "Well, what was so important about it?"
"It was just… I dunno!" she groans. "There was something about it, that was important, that I needed to know. Oh well, nothing we can do now."
She pushes herself back to her feet. "Anyway, I'm leaving, are you coming with?"
"Uhm…" I take a second to think it over. On one hand, it's nice to know I'm not completely alone. On the other hand, there's something very suspicious and off about this woman and she's not very good at hiding it. But then again, I'm probably very off myself right now, and there's no safer place to be from her than right next to her, I suppose. "I don't really have anything else planned, so… sure."
"Alright," she smiles widely, violet eyes aglow. "So, let's get out of here, first off." She breaks into a run, off like a rocket before I could ask her to wait up, but I begin to keep pace.
I hear a clattering on the ground which stops me for a moment. I look down on the cold metal floor to see the flash drive she had pocketed on the ground, label up.
"Hey, wait! You dropped something!" I call after her. Before she can notice that I've looked at it, I scan the label into my memory, recognizing it as the "TRC1-MoD" label I saw earlier. She dashes back in, yanking it off of the floor before I even notice her presence. "Thanks," she replies breathlessly, before standing up straight and looking behind my shoulder. "Hey, wait, something's printing out behind you."
"What?" I gasp. "This thing has a printer?"
"Well, it can create worlds from electricity and magic. If it didn't have a printer that'd just be stupid."
I chuckle and reach for the small stack of papers behind me, raising an eyebrow. "What's it say?" she asks eagerly.
I read down at it. "It… says…" Nothing. It's nothing but numbers and symbols and the occasional letter, arranged oddly against the paper in patterns. I sigh, handing the papers to her.
"Well!" she pouts. "That's excellent. That flash drive must be bugged to hell, because that looks a lot like the code of the project itself."
I look it over again, finding it to be very peculiar in structure. There's something familiar about it, in the far off distance. I look into the first paper again, scanning it for answers. I find one in the paper's center, finding one coherent word in the mess of code.
Vandarx.
"It's a code," I declare, dropping to the ground.
"I know it's a code!" she replies, exasperated. "Now, seriously, what are you doing?"
"No, no, not like a programming code," I explain. "It's a secret code. The Vandarx Code."
"A what?"
I'm surprised she hasn't heard of it; it's a code that has gone down in the city's history. One of the first graphical artists, Vandarx, was an anonymous entity that could make incredible works out of only typed numbers and symbols. Their work was mysteriously donated to the first art gallery of the city, with his name somewhere in the code. If you looked closely, you could see structures and familiar forms within the colossal code. To everyone's surprise, it turns out that there were secret messages of an upcoming attack on the city from the inside, displayed in a story-like pattern through the code through many separate works, which was discovered by an expert decoder by the name of Ridder. Before it could happen, it had been prevented, with the perpetrators being arrested and exiled. After that, the mysterious Vandarx was never heard of again.
"It's a puzzle," I explained. "We have to find where the code connects, because there's a structure within these papers, like a jigsaw puzzle."
"Okay…" she hesitates, but I'm already laying the papers out. There are thirty of them, and I'm already spreading them out. Without needing to reply, she's sorting through them already, finding connections between the two.
It's a laborious five minutes of silence before we've pieced things together. Eagerly, we push the papers around, feeling the rush of excitement that solving a puzzle often brings. When we're certain we've finished, we stand back and take a look at the piece.
When I make out what it is, I give a shocked glance to the woman. "Do you see what I see?"
"Holy… crap," she breathes.
"Holy ♥♥♥♥ indeed," I confirm, looking at the portrait. At first, it looks simply like the side of the 23 Tower, where the city officials often met to perform their business. It's a regal building with a simple shape, tall and rectangular with a subtle rounded point. There are other small buildings in the background, seemingly unnoticeable, if it weren't for the subtle flames licking the rooftops, or at least that's what it appeared. Most jarringly, however, there is a window busted open at the top of the 23 Tower, and unmistakably, there is a person falling to the ground and is halfway through the descent.
It is in part prophetic and in part historic. There hasn't ever been a serious fire here, not one to take down multiple buildings like this. However, there has been someone who fell, or more accurately, leapt from the 23 Tower, in 2012, just before the city became a vacant hell.
"Bryan," I mouth his name.
Chapter 6 (snippet)
Kevin O’Connor had a macabre sense of humor.
She inherited it from her parents.
The melancholy air of the plane after Cameron told everyone of Chris’ death left her more awkward than sad. Sure, she was sorry to hear he was dead; he was a cool guy and had a sense of humor like her own, only more neutered. But honestly she found no situation more awkward than a grieving room. She didn’t really grieve; at the most, she got kind of bummed. She was a bit wacky that way.
It was probably her parents’ fault. Did she ever wish that she had parents that were some kind of lawyer or doctor instead of having a magician and a comedian for mothers? Not a chance in hell? But did she ever imagine what it’d be like? Yes.
The idea kinda sucked.
Kevin just hoped that people would brush off her lopsided I’m-not-liking-this-aura awkward smile as something Kevin just did. She heard some sobs from around her and couldn’t trace down another smile around her for miles. It was just her.
Not that she expected anything different. Chris was practically the leader of the city. That Runouw guy was just a figurehead, an engineer, the guy who made the cool techy stuff the site was built around. The creator, designer, whatever it was. Certainly nothing would be the same without him.
She tried to feel sad, if only to figure out what everyone else was feeling. It was kind of hard to do, though, because she just didn’t do sad very well. She looked around the plane and out the windows at the clouds below. She awkwardly shifted in her chair trying to be inconspicuous, feeling bad for not wanting to cry like everyone else. Running a hand through her short black hair (spiked nicely up), she occupied herself by counting the heads of everyone in the plane.
A surprising thought hit her around head eleven- she had a feeling that everyone in this plane was, well… everyone there was. After all, Cameron and the other staff wouldn’t leave anyone behind, right? That’d be a pretty ♥♥♥♥ thing to do, after all, and it wasn’t quite a Cameron thing to do. The guy cared about people a hell of a lot, and his efforts were almost obsessive and just about always self-sacrificing. She appreciated it but didn’t quite like it for his sake, because she had a dark feeling that the man was a sacrificial lamb in training.
Almost immediately after that thought, she resumed counting, with a renewed passion. If this was everyone there was, and everyone else was probably dead and gone… ♥♥♥♥ he better be here. She browsed through the different heads urgently, looking for that familiar face, one she was very fond of, desperate to find it.
She did, running into tearless brown eyes that, with little surprise, stared right back at her, nearly concealed by shoulder-length, shaggy, tree-bark hair. After a split second of eye contact, she whirled back around in her seat, finding herself surprisingly out of breath. Oh thank the guy up there, he was alive.
She felt a quiver in her chest and dear lord was she about to cry? She hoped not, and she swallowed deeply, trying to fight that unfamiliar feeling off. She’d hate being the only ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ in the room crying because she was happy. But the relief was so sweet and she was so surprisingly happy that she didn’t mind releasing it for just a moment.
Then she smiled, not quite caring what anyone else thought. She knew what she thought, though. Thank god Brando's alive.
