BB says: This may take me a while to publish. I just got a new job, so I'm a bit distracted. Forgive! I have also started watching this anime called Hetalia. It is basically about the nations…PERSONIFIED! All (or most) of the nations are cute guys who get into trouble. It's so awesome! Go watch is now! WOOOO!
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: I do not nor have I ever owned any part of Generator Rex. Or Lewis Carroll.
"There is a place, like no place on earth. A land full of wonder, mystery, and danger. Some say, to survive it, you need to be as mad as a hatter,"
~Lewis Carroll
The sanctity of Abyssus was often over looked. A subtle stone in a river of dirt and debris, or perhaps even a star among a billion suns, this characteristic of the dead land fades in the wake of greater detail. What most would observe is rot and horror, the stench of decay heavy in the thick brown air where even the foliage suffers from the septic hatred permeating throughout. The land itself seemed detestable, odious, the beasts within holding fast to power born of blood and fury, eager to wet a thirst for chaos upon those wretched enough to wander through their web. Because this land was one of war mongers and mercenaries, twisted into different forms but maintaining their overall lust for unrefined destruction. A result of unjust power.
But.
Gazing upon the land from the view of one of these inhabitants, one of these turmoil seeking fiends, the hostile lands of muddy brown and bloody red were a sanctuary, where they could lie in an element that they sought all along. Where the strong survive and gain force through exploits befitting their selfish and sociopathic natures. It was the true, raw society that was the most valued aspect of animalistic lives, no longer imprisoned by the norms and faux pas of government driven civilization.
It was untouchable by the world surrounding it, through air or land, for the politics of the "developed countries" prevented an unsolicited invasion. And although Van Kleiss and his nasty attempt to disrupt the world conference had set most politicians firmly against his methods, they held fast to any excuse that would keep their soldiers from perishing in the forests of the deep. A man who commanded the earth itself could not be stopped by average guns and planes.
And so the ruler grinned. Powerful and ever growing in his strength, he relished in the folly of his enemies.
The greatness of his plan.
The perfection with which he manipulated.
He deserved this.
No.
So much more.
The scene unfolding before him was amazingly beautiful. Not in the fact that it was battle –for, unlike his many minions in their various states of insanity, he prided himself on his cleanliness and logic. And war being the epitome of man's illogical nature, he refused to find any pleasure in the act- but the fact that this was his first call to the diplomats surrounding his little country. A country that, though small, was mighty, wiping armies from the landscape with but a thought. The time for silence was over, now was the time for action. And if only to protect his newly budding battalion of corruption, he only required a single piece more, a small addition that was going to make all the difference in the world once he had shown his hand.
His attentions were once again upon his loyal (and highly useful) monitor, an evo able to project scenes from around the world freely. His squadron as it advanced through the city, wiping the streets with civilian and law enforcement alike. A road paved in red and screams as they progressed, staying close and playing off their individual strengths as they had been instructed. It was all too easy.
Even when Providence made themselves known.
While a few of his lesser evos fell to their guns and knives, those more powerful, more resilient to pain and bullets, easy killed two of theirs for every one of his. They were going to lose this battle, as simple as destroying their aircraft and trapping them in the confines of wreckage.
His eyes drifted for a moment, mind figuring new, more complex theories to the domination of the world should this current scheme fail. He always had a backup. Always at the ready, should that point zero one percent return to destroy him.
Point zero one. Three figures. R-E-X.
By the time his eyes returned, the scene had settled on a target. Ah. His face twisted once again, a facsimile of a humored smile, the image of her fighting so desperately to protect her allies sparking a moment of amusement. Especially when she failed. She was quite incomplete, really, so much still impossible for her to grasp although it was all too obvious to him. The logical choice would've been to flee when confronted with such overwhelming forces, to, simply put, "save oneself". Turn and escape while the enemy was distracted with the task of cutting down allies. Wasn't that the bestial urge in every living thing? The nature of self-preservation was the sacrifice anything –an arm, an eye, an ally- for the continuation of one's existence. Insects processed this ideal more efficiently than the female evo, perhaps even ameba. He could see the defiance in her eyes, a refusal to flee in spite of what the consequences may be.
Her eyes flickered for a moment, seemingly to glare through his one way observation. He fancied the thought she could see him –although such a thing was impossible- and smiled wider to taunt her. The girl's faux response was to reduce a great beast to dust, a flick of her wrist that seemed to be kneejerk. Like it was nothing to her. Wasn't it though?
They weren't going to win this.
Battering on the final defense, eying the field with poorly concealed fascination as it rebounded and reduced his minions to…
Nothing.
Yes. He only needed one more piece.
Rex kept his arms tight around the girl in his lap, stroking her hair and listening to her even breaths as her quaking lessened. She wasn't sleeping, or even close to it, but was allowing him to lull her into calm. It was strange seeing Cheshire so distressed, someone who was so full of light and joy succumbing to mind numbing guilt and horror. It made him uneasy, to say the least.
He had been angry and worried and restless all at once, his certainty that she needed him spurring him on. His division had originally landed on the other side of the city, one that was overflowing with fleeing people and cars. Everyone wanted to leave but with no direction it was quickly turning into a mob of sorts. Already there had been cases of trampling and vehicles abandoned on the side of the road. They fled like they were being chased. Because they were.
"Why are we doing this again?" he asked, irritation evident in his voice. He was tired of being a living crosswalk, directing traffic from sidewalks and roads to keep the chaos at a minimum. "I should be bashing evos, not helping old ladies cross the street!"
Six had to agree. This smelled rotten. Sending Providence's top agents out for crowd control during a level one catastrophe was lunacy. While many from the European division had been dispatched, Cheshire included, a thought deep in Six's subconscious was relentless in its badgering. It was the same little voice that had recognized the look in White's eye, the nonchalance with which he released them to do the work of grunts knowing that bigger things needed to be taken care of. Something wasn't quite right, and no matter who he spun the idea in his head it refused to take the form of anything more than suspicious.
And then they attacked. Nipping at the heels of the last refugees, roaring and snarling with malice that was so hateful, spiteful, human, Six nearly froze for a trillionth of a second. Rex and Bobo leapt right in, as expected, sword and guns waving as they proceeded to attack the onslaught before it could get to the people. From the air and ground the monsters came, popping up from sewers and buildings, busting cement and ramming (thankfully) empty cars. And then he was certain. The number, the force. He could only imagine it was worse wherever their sister division was. The brunt of the force thoroughly distracted while his unit was merely scraping the bottom of an enormous barrel.
They were decoys. While the civilians were evacuated. Decoys.
It was all too obvious when it occurred to Rex. Why he was kept from battle, why Cheshire's radio had gone dead. Six could see it settle into his eyes, a wild, frantic look that increased the strength of his blows and the speed of his attacks as it grew harder. The boy had gotten serious, attempting to end this as quickly as possible. It was almost painful for Six to watch, guilt for realizing this first and anger at needing to realize it at all. It was underhanded and dirty, one of the nastiest tricks in the military handbook whipped out without warning. He threw a katana with more force than necessary. Momentum carried it through a bench and into the evo beyond.
Son of a bitch. Son of an albino bitch.
For some reason, it didn't seem odd when all the evos vanished. Suddenly inexplicably, in a haze of smog. All that Six could register, fighting his way through the suddenly thick air and the shouts of confused soldiers, was a wild eyed boy and the sound of metal on metal as his jet pack appeared.
He didn't see Rex again until later, when they finally gathered themselves and rushed to meet their comrades deeper in the city. Twisted steel and flames abounded, a heavy smell of war and blood in the air the closer he got to their location. Many were injured, some worst then others, and Six's division was hard pressed to get everyone on a ship and back to base as soon as possible. While Rex seemed to be in a state of hysteria, an unconscious Cheshire in his arms, there was no way he could make it all the way back with his boogie pack. A boogie pack that couldn't even take form with the state of panic he was working himself into, appearing to be on the brink of swearing or hyperventilating or some hybrid of both.
And on the silent flight away from the mess, escaping the taste of war he had unknowingly granted his charge, Six used faux ignorance. He forced himself not to listen, dulled his sharp hearing in favor of granting them privacy. They thought they were being secretive, and he found himself strangely impressed with their knowledge of fraternization and the consequences of such things. For while there was not particular law forbidding two soldiers to enter a relationship, such a blatant display of weakness was frowned upon in most military establishments. He knew White would have more than enough comments to make on the situation, and hoped that the two would keep it quiet as long as possible. He wasn't sure just what would happen if the commander of Providence attempted to interfere with two teenagers discovering affection.
Ah, the horror.
Even if it meant sticking Bobo on a jet with Callan, Six would help them stay hidden.
They retreated to the closest Providence outpost, a secure location selected to lick their wounds and regroup. Failed missions, while fewer with their current manpower, were still a constant probability, lurking in the hearts and minds of the soldiers. The adrenaline of battle would wear off, and the sudden weight of what had occurred would settle around them. Those lucky enough to come out alive would remember what had been lost, who had been lost, everything that they could have done differently to ensure a more positive outcome. It became surreal, their minds so grateful that others had been there to witness because otherwise it would be too farfetched, too damaging for the brain to accept as truth.
So many. So much.
Despite her consent concerning her internal conflict, Cheshire found herself cowering in the shadow of Rex. Her legs were too weak to support her body and she wrapped an arm casually about his neck to keep herself steady. She was careful not to pull him too close. They had decided quite some time ago that allowing Providence to know of their relationship would cause more trouble than good; best to remain platonic friends in public. So she couldn't display just how much she needed to lean on him at the moment.
It was almost like punishment for her. The med bay of the small outpost was unused to so much activity at once and was overflowing with the injured and the dying, the stench of blood and bile and sterilization heavy in the air. Those who could be moved were in the process of being shipped to the European branch of Providence whose medical facilities were slightly more efficient, while doctors fought to stabilize others before more could slip away.
Cheshire spotted Six weaving through the crowd, his face and knuckles bruised, jacket torn, but otherwise no worse for wear. He had promised to fly them back to Cheshire's base once he had spoken with White, allowing Cheshire to keep her multi-headed dog aboard his ship in the meantime. While the blonde knew her pet was completely harmless, knowledge that extended the Rex and, somehow, Six, many other agents from the North American division wouldn't know that she was more puppy than threat. It would cause a great amount of confusion and hostility, especially after returning from a mission such as this.
The boy who carried her did so with ease, but she could feel his neck tensing as he ground his teeth at the scene surrounding them. There was a bruise just under his eye, and probably more injuries hidden by his clothes. But, like her, he would make a full recovery as his nanites sped the healing process and made their presence in the room rather unnecessary. They had only come so that Cheshire could commandeer some naproxen, a request that now seemed horribly selfish. What was her pathetic headache in comparison to a busted lung? A mauled face? A severed leg? Nothing.
"I want to go," her voice was a heavy whisper in the air, barely audible over the shouts and moans. She couldn't bring herself to care if anyone saw the intimate gesture, the way her arm tightened around his shoulders, pulling him near to her body as his hand tightened at her hip. Rex paused a moment, uncertain. "What about your headache?"
"I think it got bored and left." Rex swung her around and headed for the door. Their movements evolved the closer they got to the exit, her shaky footfalls vanishing as he lifted her into his arms. She laced her fingers behind his neck, burying her head beneath his chin. "How 'bout finding a nice, quiet corner? I want a cat nap."
Six was seriously sick of giant screens and the pale face that was constantly presented on them. It was probably unconscious, probably just coincidence, but he couldn't shake the feeling that White had them installed in every outpost just to be spiteful. To be sure that everyone knew who the big boss was and just how in charge he was. Six had known the man for years, before Providence, even before The Event, and it seemed like something he would do. He was set in his ways, stubborn to a point that even a mule could only dream about, and heaven forbid anyone ever challenge him on any point. It had been this way since he cast in his hat to be Providence's leader, although Six believed he had only won the position due to circumstance. It looked good to have the only nanite free human as the leader.
But now wasn't the time for such thoughts, a thin line of blood running down his throat from the gap in his teeth. It was a fake tooth –the real one was lost long ago in a fight with Dos- but it had still hurt to lose it. And the metallic taste in his mouth was slowly but surely wearing on his last nerve. And the look on White's face, one of misdirected fury, certainly wasn't helping the situation.
"Update." What did he think happened? "We were forced to retreat." White scowled deeper, detecting the barely there note of spite in Six's voice. "And the evacuation?" Six narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, a bitter taste in his mouth. "Successful. Over eighty two percent of the population was moved to safety, the number of missing still in the hundreds."
"Is there something on your mind, agent?" So the man on screen had seen the slight twitch to Six's fingers as they fought the urge to ball. Because he knew damn well what was wrong, and the only reason he wanted Six to point it out was so that he could have the advantage. By not addressing it, White was stating that it didn't truly matter, that he was assured in his decision. The moment Six verbalized his discontent the White Knight of Providence would be prepared to slap him down.
But still.
"The plan initiated to deal with the situation was not the one discussed," the man in green kept his voice calm although flames were coming from behind his sunglasses. "Keeping your men in the dark could've severely retarded our efforts and assuredly cost us more casualties than originally planned. Sir."
"Really? Because in the scenario that you are indicating I would've lost countless more. Including the people of the city." White spoke with the same forced stillness as Six. "The evacuation would've been just as efficient without the assistance of Rex and I. Our efforts would've been more appreciated with the European division." The ones sent to the slaughter; the words tingled in the back of Six's throat as his lips tightened into a scowl. They mixed with his blood and became a creature of wrath.
"Focusing the majority of our efforts in such a limited area would've made it all the easier to counter our attack. It was more logical to place an equal amount of strength on two sides of the attack and corner our opponents."
"In theory. As it was the European branch took the brunt of the blow while we were left with the dregs. An unfair amount of pressure was placed on them. There was no possible way for them to have succeeded without considerable damage."
"The enemy was more powerful than originally anticipated," it was both an admission and not an admission "but that's a part of war. Once the soldiers were in place no possible escape routes were available. Their loses are distressing but I do not regret my decision."
"Their forces were decimated."
"Necessary loses for the greater good. Despite Evo X's promising…skills, she is replaceable compared to a possible cure." Six wasn't sure who had raised their voice first, been the first to snarl their words and clench their fists. They stood in silence a moment staring each other down until Six realized just how pointless this was. Because he, of all people, understood how cold in his logic White could be. And as much as he hated it, and despised himself for seeing the reasoning in White's decision, he knew the other was right. The solution to the nanite problem, which very probably lay in the body of a boy in sync with machines, was more important than a single girl. A single girl and hundreds of her comrades.
He hated it.
Because if Cheshire was just a pawn, if she had only been added to Providence as a crash dummy for Rex's more dangerous missions, then Six had to rethink his allegiance to his superior.
"They were organized," the agent spoke through his teeth, unfurling his fingers after an internal struggle "strategic. And so many at once. It was obviously an ambush." White folded his hands and leaned forward, deep frown still etched on his face. "Are you suggesting they were more than an unhappy consequence of that solar flare that went off last week?" Six chose to ignore the mockery in White's tone. Apparently it had created various spikes in the Earth's magnetism. Nanites responded accordingly, evos of various forms and size occurring in areas that had been relative cold spots in the past.
"Impossible. For so many to have been created in a single instance and to automatically be able to identify enemy forces is too great of a coincidence." If possible, and few people believed it was, White's lips formed an even thinner line. "So this was an attack. That is what you're suggesting." Six furrowed his brow. "No. It was a message."
The fact that Allison disregarded her normal character in favor of holding Cheshire close spoke volumes to the blonde evo, even if all she wanted was to collapse into bed and never get out. Everything ached, from the scratches on her face to the bruises on her body, there was an endless trail of echoing soreness that wouldn't end until she slept it off. Although she had attempted to do so the night before, falling asleep in a dark corner with Rex at her side, she hadn't gotten nearly enough rest before her green suited elven friend woke them up to take Rex back.
Cheshire, he said with a hint of remorse, was to wait there until further orders from White were given. Rex made to argue but the shaking fingers she pressed over his mouth made her point. It was okay. She honestly didn't want to go back to her base without what was left of her friends. Didn't want to face the smothering woe that was bound to be waiting. She barely remembered Six offering to drop Berry off, could scarcely recall her response although it must have been an agreement. She was really faded out of the conversation by this point; her eyes appeared to be absorbing the conversation but she was light years away.
She could tell White was surprised when he called for her and she was there to respond, as it had been much more likely that she would disobey and fade back to her room regardless of his orders. This battle was a disaster. Acknowledged. But it was just a battle. And though it was attrition by nature, civilian casualties were minimalized by their sacrifice. And the larger war had yet to be lost. So they were told, so they were expected to accept. It was in their training as soldiers, roll with loses and fight until legs and arms were sliced clean off. And then they were to bite their enemies' ankles.
Cheshire made a point to fade the second the final word escaped his thin, bitter lips.
She stumbled a bit in her dark room, all the weaker from her journey and limping to open her door. Berry had arrived before her and entered immediately, tail tucked between her legs as she curled into a ball on the rug. The poor thing was beat but no one had bothered to open Cheshire's door. Perhaps it was out of respect for the room's owner. But more likely it was because no one really cared at the moment. It was late, or perhaps it was early, Cheshire's body sensing the rising of the sun from behind her steel walls.
She was really good at forgetting. Or good at hiding. Or maybe some semblance of both. For though there was a deep pit in her heart she was able to leap across (deep not wide. A bottomless pin prick) with grace the fact remained that it was still there. Alive and thriving despite her immediate decision to move on.
She wanted, more than anything, for others to do the same, to heal themselves and keep walking like she thought she was prepared to do. Because if there was one lesson she had learned over and over until the white board was grey it was focusing on the past didn't change it. None of it. Nothing she did today could change what had happened. She could cry and scream and lament and it would only make her sick.
What would being sick do? Nothing.
She was extremely efficient in letting the past go. Hell, she had severed it completely before.
As a mercy to those who weren't like her, those who couldn't move on so easily, she didn't speak of it. Or anything. She was rarely seen wandering the European Branch anymore, although if called upon she would appear as though she had never left. It was just so hard for her to breathe in this body now, to walk the halls and feel the burning eyes of the dead. To know a few rooms in the barracks were emptied of their occupants.
But how could she not be this being anymore? This creature she had created long ago? She was rather fond of it by this point, and had no interest in undergoing another metamorphosis. She had folded her wings, stiffened them against the urge to fly away. Consequences were back in her life and she refused to subject herself or anyone else to those that would be created by her need to flee. Just because it was starting to hurt again and she couldn't talk about it because she was scared of what would be said.
If only one. It would take one to convince her of her guilt. And she would crumble. Like a card castle. A cookie. A flake's resolve.
And she couldn't chance that. It was bad enough she had rent a family in twain and walked away with a new skin. Unpunished. Wasn't she such a monster?
"Rex," it was their usual call, talking about nothing, leaving lose ends as they pleased. A week after and she had buried it completely, that bottomless pit that was a black hole. It sucked in light and deposited it somewhere else. Probably Analomink, PA. But no one had to know that. Cheshire was fine. Just fine. "Do you know what made the hatter mad?"
"What? What hatter?" Her question had come from out of the blue, their conversation originally being about a movie that had just been released in America. It was the latest in a trilogy that Cheshire was fond of, and she wanted to view the masterpiece on the largest screen possible. The only problem was that she had chosen White's large, intrusive monitor aboard the Keep, and although Rex thought it would be hilarious to see White's face after such a prank, the consequences would be too great. She wasn't even supposed to get on the Keep without permission, after all. So they began a mock argument that had continued until Cheshire's sudden question.
"The hatter, of course. Alice's hatter. Do you know what made him mad?" It was silent for a moment, the boy contemplating what could be meant by this seemingly simple question. Was she testing him? Was this another one of her moral ridden riddles? He had become accustomed to them now, and the way she would eagerly spring them onto his lap without a moment's hesitation. But he couldn't know all the answers, seeing as Cheshire put a great deal of effort into keeping him on his toes. Or perhaps it really wasn't an effort for her. Maybe it was a talent. "No," he spoke slowly, unsure of himself. "What made the hatter mad?"
"Hats. They used to be cured with mercury, which, in turn, was inhaled by the hatter. He was driven crazy by mercury poisoning, brains cells corrupting and dying as he was doing his life's work. Probably something he enjoyed doing, too. His duties literally drove him insane."