One-Phantom Limb
The seasons were changing, and it could be felt from the atmosphere from every part of the cage that surrounded her. From the thick concrete, to the denizen of this city, she could feel disdain for the future emanate towards her. She could feel the unease of those who shared her cage and could see it through their violent actions as they used their growing anxiety to fuel their mock battles. She could see it through monitors, where any could spectate fights that were the sole televised entertainment within their cage. Even the Sisters, who lorded above them through cameras and screens, protected by the translucent barriers that segregated them from their loyal fans, constantly repeated information about how dangerous the next few weeks would be. How they should always have their minds dedicated towards shelter, and have their hearing dedicated to the warning klaxons that signaled their first enemy's attack… for the monsoons were coming, and, as the old homage went, with water, came death.
When she had been young, she had been told bluntly by her father that the heavens hated her. She had thought the words he had said then had been punishment for a wrong she had done, but when she tried to correct it through acting like a docile child and doing chores without being asked, her father had sat her down and explained what he had meant. He had told her then, he had not meant her specifically, but her entire race.
And it was not just the heavens, but the very world that surrounded them. Though they lived in peace in her mountain home, they were currently at war… but not with those who shared their island, nor the ones who lived a small ocean away. They weren't even at war with the economic democracy to the far south, who lived in their massive archipelago which had historically attacked their nation's fleets for the sake of having a bit of fun. No, it was none of these living factions they warred against, far from island home. Instead, they fought the very world itself, which, were it to have any intelligence, would send rain after rain, until it washed their entire, unrelenting race into the sea.
Perhaps it was this rage the denizens of the city were feeling. Untampered by adults, and unexplained by a rational mind, her fellow children were feeling for the first time the aggression the very world brought down upon them every year. Now, instead being calmed, they could only look at the world and feel aggrieved from the entire life they had unwittingly been brought into. Not only were they abandoned by their parents in this experiment of a city, they were now at risk of death because the most common substance within the world was lethal… and coming in the form of a raging typhoon.
Why the architects of this city, the same ones whose offspring would be conscripted and imprisoned, chose to build this cage next to the ocean was beyond her. Surely, there were better places to have put this city. Places with less natural dangers presented to the children playing soldier. Places where they could be imprisoned and sent to battle those who they would befriend under normal circumstances… a place not so exposed to the waves of the sea that massive walls and fortifications would have to be built to keep them at bay.
She hated this city. She hated this cage. She hated this world with every fiber of her being. She hated feeling trapped, as she did now as she stared at the uncaring sea, and the graying sky. She hated the invisible hands that had brought her, and everyone she knew here. She hated the ones inside this city, and their undisciplined shows of emotion that infuriated her to no ends. She hated repressing her own anger down, knowing if it got the best of her for but a moment, she would become the ones who had caused her such pain… which was what she hated the most.
Her pain. The pocked marks where the hated water had touched her bare skin. The thin and thick trails that had slowly moved down the back of neck, scarring the flesh underneath the filmy substance that could be weaponized, to an extent. She hated the memories of her flesh being torn atomically, the polarity of the substance dissolving bits and pieces of her until it had grown full. All along her back and arms there were trails where her coat had not protected her from that idiot of a child, who could not keep his own anger in check. Along her jaw, there were scars that would remind her for the rest of her life the humiliation she had faced at the defeat of someone inferior to her… forcing her to remember the excruciating moments where her mortality had been faced.
If only these scars were the only ones. If only her wounds were inflicted by water, and not by the ones who had sent the now missing boy towards her. If only she had not been wrapped up in the schemes of some mutant thing, that looked like her, yet was so… different. Terribly different. If only she had not been caught by those two agents from a defeated enemy… whose flesh still lingered in her teeth. If only she did not have the marked hole in her stomach, where she had been pierced and bled, leaving her in a perpetual state of coldness that still lingered at her mind.
Even now, she was shaking from the slightest, warmest wind that heralded the coming storms. Even though it had been weeks since she was declared recovered. Even though it had been weeks since her enemy's death. Even though she was considered a hero, to those who knew of her actions. Laying in her dark, empty room, which had been stripped clean by unknown hands when she had been hospitalized. She sat, facing the cleared wall that had once held all written and photographed evidence she had been able to collect about her first attacker… trying to remember if any of the crazed, paranoid ideas that had wrapped around her brain had any attachments to the unknown threat she had now overcome.
She sat, in her smooth leather coat, sheet covering her lap as she wasted away on the hard floor of her room, staring blankly at the empty wall as the sun shone through opened curtains, and the stinging sea breeze flowed through her opened window. Remembering the weeks of solitude of thinking through the wall of information, she stared, and stared… and stared… unable to do anything than feel pain and anger as she did this fruitless action. All she could feel was-
"Moon-Man!" An agonizingly warm voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts from the kitchen. As the named Inkling was shouted at, she gripped the temples of her head, unable to understand how this self-proclaimed friend of hers had managed to enter her apartment. As she stared at the unwanted intruder, wondering how the girl had somehow divined when the owner of the room would return, or if she had just broken in and never left. "You can't just be sitting around all day."
"Why?" She asked back, shifting away from the source of noise within her normally silent room and falling to her side.
"Because, you need to walk around! You've been lying in a bed for who knows how long, and you've done nothing but stare at the wall all morning! The least you can do is come over here and help me cook." The yipping girl whined, perhaps purposefully mimicking the noises of an annoying mother solely to get the one on the floor to do something.
Stubbornly, and ignoring the genuine feelings of care from the one looking at her from the small kitchen where her refrigerator stocked full of cheap ration boxes had been raided, Moon-Man spoke… unable to help but feel a shred of joy as she gave her mumbled answer. "I refuse."
"What did you just say?" The now angered girl asked, wearing a false smile that showed nothing but threatening fury. Bunkering down with the sheet, Moon-Man protected herself from the girl's glimpsed gaze, groaning as she heard the girl's footsteps approach her hidden host. Apparently annoyed with the one on the floor, the invader talked down to the owner of the room like a mother to a child. "What do you think you're doing? Do you think that a blanket is going to protect you from me?"
"It might." Moon-Man groaned, now having to wrap the blanket's edges around her wrist to keep covered. Feeling the weak tug from the girl as her defenses were tested, Moon-Man continued to retaliate with her words, unsure if the girl above her thought her questions were meant to be playful. "Why are you even here? How did you know I was coming back today?"
"Oh, you didn't notice? I moved in downstairs!" The girl's piercing voice explained, far too happily. "Your building's renovations were fully completed weeks ago, so I thought, 'hey, why waste time setting up cameras, when I could just -be- the camera?'"
"Please tell me you're kidding." Moon-Man whispered, the very idea enraging her for no real reason.
"To which part? The cameras, or the-"
"Both, you psycho!" Moon-Man shouted, throwing the sheet off herself and slowly rising to her feet. Angered at how long it was taking her just to stand… and feeling the look of pity flash across from the controlled facial features of the girl behind her, Moon-Man couldn't keep her anger in check, and lashed back at one of the few people she had to rely on within this terrible world. Threating her friend with a glare, Moon-Man felt her tone harden as she looked at the now shrinking girl… the small half-step being taken backwards hurting Moon-Man more than the small amount of physical therapy she had to endure before being sent back to her small sanctuary. "Catherine, you better not have moved here."
"I… but… I mean, we-"
"We?!" Moon-Man roared in disbelief, now knowing more of her friends had betrayed her expectations. "Who else is in on this?! Bojable? Tome?"
"Well, yeah! It didn't make sense to keep us all split up if we're going to be separated by the storm! Besides, now that the stakes of the tournament have been raised, we really need to get our heads together and try to win or-"
"What do you mean, the stakes have been raised?" Moon-Man asked, instantly realizing she had been distracted purposefully, and moving her questioning back to the topic that mattered. "And why did you decide this building?! I'm not on your team, and I'm never going to be!"
"We know!" Catherine cried out in anger, a look of betrayal stabbing her host deeply… and silencing the room with her following pause. Only after a hesitant moment did Catherine explain herself, no longer threated by her oldest friend's threatening gaze of refusal, speaking painfully from the heart with honest words. "I… know. I know you're not going to do any more turf-wars or mock battles or… anything. That… that doesn't mean we're just going to leave you behind… or ignore you. You're still our friend! Just because you've quit doesn't mean we're going to abandon you! I'm… I'm not going to leave you alone!"
Unable to say anything to the girl, Moon-Man listened to the one speaking as though it was an afterthought. As Catherine continued, looking towards the blanket on the floor, Moon-Man slowly moved her hand to her stomach… feeling the mixture of emotions begin to make her sick. "Don't worry about us, or what we're doing. We've already found our fourth, and… we're going to try to win. If… if you really don't want me to come back… I'll just… hole up in my-"
Moon-Man couldn't listen to the final words of the girl's sentence, in fear for what would happen. Moving past her friend towards the door that led to the hallway, Moon-Man clutched her stomach, rubbing the pain in her forehead away as she flung her door open… and though she could have easily been caught up with, the girl behind her made no attempt to follow. No calls of her name chased her, nor was there a begging for her to return… and though it ached to walk at the speed she was going, she was happy to flee her own home.
Which, as she descended the stairs and moved towards the outside, made Moon-Man wonder if Catherine's words had all been for the sake of her original goal to get her host up and moving.
Walking through the streets without any real purpose, Moon-Man began taking stock of how much the city had changed in her absence. Every glass storefront had posters advertising the incoming tournament, telling every child within the city that their battles would be televised for the whole of the nation to watch… telling children that through their violent actions, they would receive glory beyond their wildest dreams. That if they performed well, they would be looked as though they were heroes, like the days of long past…
And now, judging by the words from she had fled from, there was another reward for those who would win the largest team battle bracket ever to be televised. Though she didn't know what the reward might be, Moon-Man knew it had to be big if Catherine was taking it seriously. Before she had been hospitalized, Moon-Man knew the girl to be disinterested in all things vapid… choosing deeper, more abstract rewards over any number of shiny objects.
Rubbing the sunlight from her unprotected eyes, Moon-Man regretted leaving her room so abruptly. Keeping a hand to her forehead, and walking where shadows were predominant, she made her way towards the transit system of her cage of a city, knowing she was going to need to buy several items with the make-believe currency of their town… as most of her stuff had been confiscated by the unseen authority of their city, namely all her weapons that had their safety systems broken.
Why these invisible forces had done such a thing was still beyond Moon-Man's mortal knowledge, as clearly, they must have thought themselves gods to believe that no one else knew how to override the small little locking mechanism that restricted their weapons from being used out of the battle arenas. Even within the tram, she could see children in gangs of four holding their barely concealed weapons… each of their thumbs hovering over the safety switches that could be forced downwards… their eyes scanning for the potential enemies of those who would harm them before the tournament started, to knock their competition out before the battles had even begun.
Wondering if there was merit to their defensive actions, or if they were just acting paranoid now that their spring-time tournament was finally here, Moon-Man looked away from those armed and switched her gaze to those who already knew they had no chance of winning. With such a contrast before her, the first-years who had just entered this cage still blinded by the sights and sounds of such an urbanized area, Moon-Man couldn't help but feel the hints of a smirk filled with pity come to her lips. How these groups of individuals could be so oblivious to what was going on around them, able to smile happily and make jokes to their friends despite the threat of rain and the ignobility of obscurity from their lack of participation in their nation's newest pastime of children playing soldiers… was just… annoying, to watch. All Moon-Man wanted to do was berate the younger boys and girls… jealous of their care-free actions and happy dispositions.
As the moving letters above the doors changed, telling those in the cabin that they had reached the plaza and were coming to a halt, Moon-Man couldn't help but remain seated. A part of her knew she wasn't ready to follow either group out, or step in front of them as though she didn't even register their existence for the sake of buying a new weapon. Just the idea of following these kids into the small, packed, plaza made Moon-Man feel disgusted with herself, and all of those around her. Unable to stand those who took their tournament seriously, and unable to tolerate those who could find enjoyment in this wretched life, Moon-Man sat motionlessly, staring at the closing doors as the automated train began to propel her towards the residential areas of the city.
She had gotten off a few stops after the plaza, taking the first opportunity to leave unwatched by others within the train. Dodging the main streets, Moon-Man found herself stalking the shadows of the city, aimlessly wandering beside the concrete walls that surrounded her. Having to stop every few dozen paces to catch her breath, Moon-Man began to truly regret several actions over the course of her life… and as she passed piles of garbage others were employed to properly discard, Moon-Man wondered if she should just sit down beside the kin that was the trash bags and share their eventual destruction.
Instead though, she continued her pained journey, finding it hard to believe that she was exhausted after only half an hour of physical activity. She had always known her battles would take a toll on her growing body, but… to feel so weak was something new to her. She felt… vulnerable, despite having her accomplishments constantly remind her how strong she could be. The marks in her skin showed the ability she had to survive, and though her pale skin was even paler now, making her appearance close to that of a corpse… Moon-Man could always be reminded of-
"What the frick-frack-patty-wack is that?!" Moon-Man heard from in front of her, and as she blinked, she realized she had dumbly wandered into an open street. Staring at the young face who had said something stupid out of genuine confusion as to the coated Moon-Man's physical appearance, she was blinded, coming out of the shadows without trying to protect her sensitive eyes from the sun. Blinking, Moon-Man could see the four faces look to her, acting as though she had jumped out at them with intent to ambush their formation. Checking to see if there were any other witnesses to her viewing, ignoring the few crustaceans and jellyfish that had been permitted to work within this prison city spectating their strange interaction, Moon-Man found herself lacking witnesses. Raising her hand to the leather collar at her neck, pushing it upwards to cover the lower half of her water-scarred face, Moon-Man moved around the smallest of the team members, as if she had been intending to go the direction she mistakenly went. As she took advantage of the stunned looks of the blocking children, easily passing the group without incident… she heard a voice come from the group that was filled with angered appreciation.
"Oh hey, I know you! You're Moon-Man." The nearly mocking words pointed out to his group of friends, eliciting responses of further confusion. Turning her head ever so slightly, Moon-Man appraised the boy that was seemingly unarmed, noticing just how much of his gear was designed for increasing movement. Seeing the smile more as a snarl, Moon-Man reached to her hip out of instinct… but regrettably, could not find the handle of her weapon. Though she was unarmed, she wasn't particularly worried if this suddenly turned into a brawl, as she had much more experience in physical combat than these-
"The mutant murderer?" The boy who had first spoken asked in awe, turning to face her with a glint of curiosity. Ignoring the one who had identified her, Moon-Man turned to the one who had uttered the new nick-name. Looking to the one who clutched his head in excitement, as if she was some idol like one of the Sisters, Moon-Man whispered her question that had been intended to threaten the smaller male.
"What did you call me?"
"Holy crap guys! Did you hear that?! Look how cool he is!" The excited youth asked his three friends, turning his back on the coated Inkling. Whether it was because he felt protected, was over excited, or just didn't notice that she was threatening him, the boy turned on his heel and began to bombard her with questions. "Did you really skin a shark for this coat? Did you really win a one-v-four eight times in a row? Weren't you the runner up of the Annual like, last year?"
Angered, and empowered by her rage, Moon-Man felt her entire face turn from the mask of calm and disinterest to that of pure rage. Noticing her facial expressions for the first time, perhaps, the boy looked at her not in awe, but in horror as she grabbed his collar and brought him towards her. With a single shake to move him towards her face and halt him in place, Moon-Man repressed the urge to bite and punch and attack this idiotic child, having to tightly grip the boy's thin coat to keep her hands from his neck. Repeating her question slowly so the boy could understand her clearly, Moon-Man whispered once again, this time conveying just how little in the mood she was to be called any truthful title.
"What… did you… call me?"
"The… the mutant murderer?" The boy near whimpered, perhaps never feeling blood lust directed towards him before in such proximity. Feeling as though he should dig his grave further, the boy began saying other titles as well, the creativity of the names progressively getting worse the longer he went. "The coated killer? The ghost of the turf? The returning revenant? The vengeful ghost of the first war? The-"
"Who told you these names?" Moon-Man whispered, turning her attention to the movement of their team's leader, who was now moving to a position that would give him clear line of fire. "I don't remember having titles given to me."
"Buddy…" The team leader began to warn his captured squaddie.
"I don't know! I've just heard stories about you, so I-"
"From who?" Moon-Man asked the now panicking child, taking a hand off the boy's collar and allowing him control of his own posture to a limited degree… glad the boy was still entranced by her wounded face as she searched his coat for any hidden weapon she could procure. Sighing from her unsuccessful pat-down, Moon-Man released the boy in his entirety, who quickly stepped back as he answered… the child falling to the ground as his captor refused to support his weight any further.
"The… The End! Or whatever she's calling herself! She… she's been telling stories about you…" The fallen boy explained, the other three quickly taking defensive positions to support the child… at least showing there was unison between them that did not need to be vocally commanded. Looking at their purple heads, Moon-Man wondered if these kids were on their way to the tower to catch a ride to the morning's arenas or were on their way to some food joint.
"The End, huh?" Moon-Man asked, never having heard a kid under that title before. Wondering who it could be that felt confident that they could slander her with these inflammatory nicknames, Moon-Man looked to the one who had jockeyed for a clear shot, ignoring the other two who had no hopes of getting their rollers off their backs before she could attack. "And what has this girl been saying about me?"
"She mentions you as… I don't know… a wrong doer, or whatever." The savvier boy explained, his hand not leaving the interior of his jacket as he looked to the 'mutant murderer'… unsure if the title was meant to describe her own looks, or her past actions. "Like you're some nemesis she's going to defeat."
"Just… drunkenly in passing, or…? What? When does this girl talk about me? When did you hear about me?" Moon-Man inquired, her enraged tone helping her quest for information.
"After we got stomped by her team, dude. She and her goon-squad got matched in our bracket, then went insane! They didn't even play for territory, they just… rushed us and kept us locked down to our gate for every match." The boy stated, giving Moon-Man an idea of where this squad landed in the city's ladder.
"When?"
"I don't know! A week or two ago, you psychopath! Just… leave us alone." The team-leader demanded. After a look that signaled there would be a fight if she were to stay, Moon-Man turned on her heel and took a step away from the squad, trying to process the information she received from the younger children behind her. Dwelling on the idea that there was someone unknown out to get her, Moon-Man strode into the sunlight of the street, temporarily blinded as she lifted a hand to her face.
At least she still held her mannish disguise, Moon-Man thought moments before getting kicked in the back. Having hoped the younger boys wouldn't try to avenge their pride in the one-sided exchange they had just had, or because they had seen through her bluff of toughness Moon-Man had temporarily summoned, the nameless team-leader knocked her over with his ambush… which, for whatever reason in Moon-Man's twisted brain, wasn't a reason to get mad over. Trying to roll with the kick and failing, Moon-Man felt the asphalt on her face as she landed hard and quick… perhaps surprising the boy with her sudden show of frailty, especially after the dominating act she had just showed them.
"What the filthy fraud?" The team-leader asked, reminding Moon-Man through his words that she had very little information on him if she ever wanted to retaliate against him later. Clutching the side of her head that had briefly met ground, Moon-Man let out a muted groan of pain… and feeling the hat that she had bundled her designating tentacles within had either been torn from her head or had fallen off with her tumble downwards. "You're a girl?"
"Moon-Man's a girl?" A sarcastic voice asked loudly, in the direction which she had chosen to head towards before being kicked in the back. Sticking to his sarcasm, the familiar voice loudly spoke out at her attacker… who she sensed was backing off now that there was a witness to potentially record the attack. "Whoa, dude! Are you saying that all our made-up names are stupid, and don't really describe who we are as people?! Do you feel tricked that our home-made titles might not be as well thought out as you'd like?"
"Who the hell are-"
"Dad?" Moon-Man whispered, the familiar face briefly looking down at her and snorting at the joke that was his name. "Why are you here?"
"Wait… Dad? You're one of the Dads who-"
"No, I'm not on Team Father, and get lost kid." The Inkling ordered, stopping in front of Moon-Man and offering a hand to the fallen girl. Mumbling to himself before speaking to the hesitating attacker, the purple headed Inkling Moon-Man had met at a vending machine showed how much he had changed through his air of authority. "I really need to pay for a name-change, don't I? Anyhow! Did you not here me, scrub? If you're not gone in like, three seconds, I'm going to turn you into a squid and kick you around like a ball."
"What-"
"ONE." Dad shouted, his anger silencing the younger Inkling who had carelessly attacked one of his associates. Standing in shock, it would not be until the poorly named fighter pulled out his own weapon and slammed the safety off before the younger turf-warriors began to flee. Not even needing to count to two, the strange boy above her looked down to the fallen Moon-Man and let out a scoff that turned into a laugh at the pathetic nature of those who had fled. "So, are you just going to sit in the middle of the street all day?"
Sighing to herself, Moon-Man gripped the boy's palm, and felt him raise her up far too easily than what she would have liked. Now on her feet, Moon-Man stared at the one who had seemingly grown in the few weeks she had been absent from the city… and couldn't help but feel the moment grow more and more awkward as the boy stared at her scarred face. Averting her gaze from the one studying her healed wounds, Moon-Man looked to her hand, and noticed the boy was still gripping her own.
"You can let go, now." Moon-Man informed the boy, who blinked at her words before realizing what he was doing. Immediately doing as he was told, Dad looked towards the way the others had fled from… and spoke with a sense of joy and anger.
"They stole your hat."
"I… don't care." Moon-Man informed the one who had noted the theft, who seemed disappointed by her lack of reaction. Instead choosing to focus on the appearance of someone she barely knew as opposed to the robbery, Moon-Man inquired as to the boy's sudden entry onto the near empty street… feeling surprised with the answer she received. "What are you doing here?"
"Did Catherine not tell you?" Dad returned, a twinge of surprise being revealed in his facial features. "I'm your replacement."