Well hello there dear readers! I have finally gunned out about 7,000 and a bit words, so I hope you enjoy! I'm so sorry about being the clumsy idiot I am, but yeah. So, I have officially rated this story M for the f-bombs, swearing, violence and the general themes in it, because trust me, it gets even worse. I like to think of this as the part of the roller coaster where we all crap our pants as we go into this dark cavern thingy and get thrown around. Whoo.
(Cat got me hooked on Young Justice and I have recently had my heart broken . . . shattered . . . and the small pieces trod on and fought on by the Young Justice Team and their cruel, evil, evil, writers. It's truly painful holding back what happens. The good side? SPITFIRE! The bad side? Um, well, uh . . . *chokes back sobs* I WON'T SAY ANYTHING ELSE, DAMMIT!)
Okay, so, I'm guessing you all got a PM when you reviewed the last chapter, and I said something about my face being screwed up? That was being bitten by a horse. And by horse I mean Lucy. On the face.
Everyone says, "Dude, that's what happens with horses, get over it," and maybe that's true, but it still hurts because it freaking just mentally hurts that I have spent money on Lucy, worried whether she's cold at night with the rugs I'd bought her, and then BOOM! she bites me. She actually bit me three times, once on the eye (literally a millimeter from the eyeball. A bit lower and I would have been blind in my right eye), once under my arm, where there's a massive scar now, and once on my forehead where it hurt for ages for me to have expressions. So yeah.
That's my pain for the last few weeks, in which I wrote angsty and truly depressed and dark stuff, so yeah. Let us move on!
Review Replies:
(Chapter 24):
Sephie: Okay, I need to explain this. Sephie, when I try to reply to that with my email address, it sends the email to the fanfiction site, since you're using a Guest email. It's a bit annoying, but that's the way it works. If you wanted to give me your email I would be more than happy to talk to you!
Sephie: Yes, I have read that. It's hilarious, isn't it? And yeah, I'm skipping some because I'm eager to post so yeah.
Alee V: well, extreme detail and gruesome methods of torture are my style of writing, so I'll have issues changing it. So, I have gone with the simple solution and made it M for violence, torture and swearing. .3. Whoo.
Sephie: Utopias are hell in disguise. That is the only utopia I will accept. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A UTOPIA. IT IS THE LAND OF MARY-SUES AND I REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT. GAH! *glances at Mary-Sue my mind has conjured up* Ohhhh shiiii -
Sephie: POSTING NOW DON'T WORRY!
Knightlark: Haha, good one. They all seem to sound the same anyway. :D
So I believe most of you said Codfish Joe . . .
My best moment as a fangirl? Where to start . . . ?
Number 1 would have to be meeting Cat.
And then Cat introducing me to PJO and Divergent . . . and numerous other things . . .
Finishing Harry Potter
Starting the owlcat92 account
Having reoccurring movie marathons with Chatterbox and Cat involving a lot of sugar and take-away
Starting to post my writing
Just, a lot. Seriously.
So there you have it. Me. YAY!
Sometimes I wish we're falling,
Wish for the release,
Wish for falling through the air, to give me some relief,
Because falling's not the problem, when I'm falling I'm at peace,
It's only when I hit the ground it causes all the grief." - Falling,Florence + the Machine
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING EXCEPT FOR THE IDEAS, OCs, THEORIES, AND CAT OWNS ANNABETH'S TELEKINESIS AND TELEPATHY! PEACE OUT! (Please note that I have had no chance to proofread this so bear with me, okay? Tell me if I've made mistakes. *Grin*)
Chapter 25: Falling's Not the Problem
Piper is a good listener. She doesn't say anything as I speak, I can only sob and speak my wretched secrets that physically hurt when I let them out into the air. I'm telling her everything—my time with Tobias, how my parents died, how I have been so horrible and sick in this new world I fought so hard for and now I just want to crawl back into my old home, lock the gates I walked through so long ago and go back into the past.
But life isn't that easy.
I tell her about Percy and Annabeth, and how they didn't make sense and how Percy was caught by the Wraith and used and died and how Annabeth had finally broken from the strain. Talking about Annabeth makes me feel sick: I let her get that bad. I should've helped her. I shouldn't have encouraged her to do all those things.
It's so easy, sometimes, to forget that Annabeth had once been a normal girl that lived San Francisco and went to summer camp to train against monsters and had a completely sane boyfriend. It's so easy that she plummeted to her death one hundred years in the past, and that she ever knew love in the first place.
I tell her about the last time I saw Annabeth: lying to the camera and fighting cold and dirty, with buzzed short hair and ear piercings. I remember the collection of scars around her right wrist that looked like a chain; I remember her calling out the code: 17342. Be ready when I come for you.
Something tells me she won't be coming.
"I'm sorry," Piper says at last. "You probably don't want my pity, but I'm sorry."
I don't want her pity, but something deep in me yearns for it. Almost like it will taste sweet. Pity. I haven't been given pity before—not in Abnegation, not in Dauntless, and most certainly not here. I close my eyes. Pity is like a drug. Before you know you're a jabbering wreck, begging for pity like a victim begs for death.
Something flashes under my eyelids—it's too fast for me to make out, but it wasn't something I would've imagined. It's not like a thought, it was like I was watching something. Or someone.
I take a shaky breath. "Piper, why are you immortal?"
"Because," she says. "They messed around with me. They decided to take my blood and concentrate the ichor in it. Then they calibrated every cell in my body to have some sort of program to stop them from aging and dying and becoming abnormal," she stops. It sounds like she's about to go on, but she only says, "they wanted to make me a god. They wanted to make human-born gods. Instead they created a monster."
"You can't be a monster," I say. "Monsters have no thought, no ethics, no—"
"Tris," Piper says, "this is beyond you."
"No it's not." I clench my fists. "Ever since I've come here I've been looked over, I've been treated like I am nothing, that everything is above and beyond me. Let me tell you, it's not. I'm the reason we got out here. I was the link. Maybe I am just a sixteen-year-old girl but I've seen more than I should."
Piper sighs. "In your world, I'm sure you're exemplary. I have no doubt you're a fearsome enemy, Tris, and you're smarter and wiser than most. But that's your world. You haven't grown up with monsters and magic and war. I hadn't, not until I was a little younger than you. I'm sure you're sick of being compared to Annabeth, but there's really a big difference."
"Yeah," I growl. "I'm sick of being compared to Annabeth."
"Do you know why people compare you two?" Piper sounds agitated now. "It's because you're both heroes. You're both the reason that so many lived and so many died. You lead. You fight. You're amazing . . . and you've both had things ripped from you."
"I don't want to talk about things I've lost, Piper."
"You should." The edge hasn't left Piper's voice. "Why keep them locked away when everyone already knows they've happened."
Her words hit me like a punch. My ears ring. Everyone knows that Tobias Eaton was shot by a Gaos agent that night we were ambushed. Everyone knows he died. Everyone knows what he meant to me. And everyone knows that it drove me insane.
So why do I keep everything hidden? Why?
Is it because I am afraid of the past? Is it because of some petty fear that I keep it all hidden from even me? That I am scared of the memories of watching his blood soak through his shirt, the life leaving his eyes? Is it because I never even heard him say my name for the last time?
Before I can say another word, the door to my cell is thrown open and a guard comes charging in. He grabs my by the shoulders in a cold grip like iron. He yanks me off the ground and then throws me back at it, hard. I hear my nose crack.
I feel for a knife in my belt, but there is nothing.
Except the belt.
The guard grabs me by my arm and hauls me to my feet. I'm not tall enough to see his face, and I can't bring myself to look up. I can smell a sour breath full of alcohol. "They always are stronger in small packages," he snarls.
My hand fumbles and the belt buckle. Memories are playing in my head of a Fear Landscape where I was not afraid.
A rough hand grabs my chin and forces me too look up. I can see brown stubble on the guard's chin, small dark eyes under heavy eyebrows. A long scar over his cheek.
Another memory flashes through my mind: Annabeth ducking under someone's blow and slicing upward, but the person dodged enough to just get a nick on the cheek.
It's him. The same person. He would have seen me. He would want revenge. I swallow.
He throws me back against the wall, and waits for my weak legs to buckle under me. My hand tears the buckle of the belt off, and the short leather belt is now wrapped around my knuckles.
I doubt I can stand. I don't care. I don't think this man has beating me up as the only form of revenge.
He advances, and I pull my arm back, straining my legs to get up. It turns out I don't have to.
The guard pulls me by the hair to my feet. I lash out with the belt, wrapping it around his neck so fast he can't react. He drops me by surprise, and I swing around so that I am behind him and push my foot into his spine, making him slam into the wall.
I pull back on the belt as hard as I can, feeling the man fumble and claw at it. I give the belt another yank back, and I hear him wretch as his windpipe is crushed.
"Tris?" Piper is calling for me. "Tris!"
My arms are screaming with the effort of attempting to strangle the man. Annabeth didn't get him, but I will. I will make sure he is dying by my hand—I will not have any enemies alive and breathing while I'm here.
It's their fault—they didn't take my belt. What are they, children?
I grunt from the effort, and then push the man harder forward, this time my foot is at the small of his back, and there is a sickening snap.
The man's legs buckle. I wrench the belt against his throat again, before taking it away and putting it back through the loopholes of my jeans. The man lies lifeless on the floor of my cell. I drag a hand across my forehead, before realizing that the door is open. I can get out.
Just as I take a step towards it, another guard rushes through—just thus one doesn't look like he has a personal problem.
Positivity is for imps.
Annabeth fell through the fire. She wasn't Jason: she couldn't fly. She wasn't P— him: she couldn't be saved by water. She wasn't Nico: she couldn't shadow-travel.
She was stuck, free-falling through the fire and explosions that she had created. It was one simple idea: push the individual atoms apart, rip apart every fibre, every molecule, until it all went up in flames and exploded.
Maybe she felt like laughing, but she didn't. She had no expression other than the sudden freedom of walls: she was falling through the air, with nothing around her but fire, plummeting to her death a second time. Just this time she was alone, and this time she didn't care.
The air blew her hair back, roared in her ears like an animal. It felt like her face was being pulled of her bones. She could only see fire surrounding her, but there was no rubble, no debris: they had all exploded to the last fibre.
She fell through the plume of flames in front of her, singing her skin, but still she made no noise.
The fire cleared for a moment, and she could see the ground and the land of the Blank around her. She took a sweeping look against the force of the wind and gravity pulling her down to the ground.
Suddenly there was a dark flash, and she slammed into something cold.
Tobias looked around. He had no memory of getting here. He was staring up at the bottom of a fire-escape, with a streetlight's orange light filtering through the metal grid. There was a dark shape sitting next to him, who was by the looks of it smoking something.
Tobias sat up so fast he popped his back. "Oh, shit," he swore, straightening. Shady Boy looked up at him from where he was sitting. Under his hair Tobias could see the gleam of his eyes. He hadn't been smoking: he'd been looking at something.
Tobias rubbed his face and sat back down. Shady Boy glared at him from the corner of his eye. Shady Boy was always glaring—his face was set in a perpetual scowl, Tobias had realized. Even when he had been fighting that thing his face had remained the same.
"Where are we?" Tobias asked. Shady Boy examined his trinket again.
"'Frisco. Home of the drunkards and the Westers."
"Drunkards," Tobias mused. "But that can't be right . . . I mean, can it? Doesn't sound right. Night clubs more like it."
Shady Boy looked across at him from the corner of his eye again, this time his eyebrows twitched—Tobias took that as completely gobsmacked. Why? What was so surprising?
If possible, the light suddenly dimmed a lot more. Shady Boy continued to look at his trinket. "What is that, anyway?" Tobias asked.
Shady Boy held it out into the light, and Tobias's breath caught in his throat. It was a small, star-shaped disk, made of metal. Its edges were razored sharp.
"Shuriken," Tobias said in awe. Shady Boy looked at him properly that time, then with a flick of his hand there was a shuriken between every one of his fingers. "They're a difficult weapon," Shady Boy said. "You can't bet too far or too close for a proper use of them. It takes years for them to be mastered."
With a flick of his wrist he sent the four weapons flying, and they impaled themselves in the brickwork of the building across the alley in a perfect line. Shady Boy got up and walked over. In one swinging movement of his arm he collected them all from the wall.
Shady Boy sat back down in the shadows. "I don't have the patience to teach," he said.
Tobias clamped his mouth shut at the question he was about to ask. Shady Boy looked out into the alley. "What do you remember, Tobias? Do you know how you got here?"
Tobias swallowed. He considered lying, but then shoved the thought aside. Shady Boy would see right through him. "No," he said. "The last thing I remember from before I woke up is walking through the gates at Amity."
Shady Boy was silent for a moment; thinking.
Then, he said, "What are you afraid of, Tobias Eaton?"
Tobias started to talk, but he couldn't get any words out. In the end he managed, "What's it to you?"
Shady Boy leaned his head back against the wall. "Fear is a weapon. In some cases it can cause you to forget. Have you ever heard the name 'Clyde' before, Tobias?"
Clyde . . . the name sounded familiar, almost like it was on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason he couldn't say it aloud. "I . . . no, I don't think so," he said. "It rings a bell, but I have no idea which one."
Shady Boy snorted. He muttered something in another language, something that managed to give Tobias an earache. Shady Boy let a short breath out. "I'm going to get that bastard."
"Which one? Clyde?" the name sounded weird in the air. Tobias couldn't figure out why. It felt fine to think.
Shady Boy's shoulders tensed. ". . . Yeah," he said, "That one."
Tobias wasn't sure if it was a lie: it was said like it was a lie, but at the same time it had the undertone of truth. Tobias decided it was half of the truth.
"Who are y—" before Tobias could finish the sentence, Shady Boy's hand had closed around his throat.
"Don't ask," Shady Boy said. His voice had suddenly changed—it was darker, predatory. His eyes seemed darker; everything about him seemed suddenly more dangerous. "Don't ever ask."
"Why?" Tobias chocked out. "Scared of telling me?"
Tobias regretted it as soon as he said it. Shady Boy threw him across the alley so hard he was sure he cracked the brickwork on the building behind him. "If this is how you acted no wonder he left you alive."
Tobias's vision was fuzzy and spotted with red and black and all manner of colours he was failing to decipher. His ears were ringing. Something warm and wet was dripping down his neck, running across his scalp. How hard had he been thrown?
"Very," Shady Boy snarled. "And my name isn't Shady Boy. It's C."
Before Tobias could register, he was gone.
When Clyde came to, he wasn't bound, he wasn't lying down. He was sitting in an armchair, properly dressed and feeling better than he had since being put in this body.
"Well," said a sour voice. "It awakes."
"I have a gender, if you must know," Clyde said, straightening in his chair. "And it's very distinctly male."
"It's a male? Why, that's interesting."
"Very much so," Clyde said. His eyes darted around, looking for the owner of the voice. "Who are you? Well, more importantly where are you?"
"Ah, clever Eidolon," said another voice, but sweeter, but there was something sinister to it. "Wants to know where and who we are. Shall we tell him, Alexis?"
"No," the sour voice replied. Something cold touched Clyde's cheek and he jumped away from it. There was nothing there.
The sour-voiced one, Alexis, said, "he's on a different Dimension Plane. Who would have done that?"
"Are we taking bets?" the second voice said. Dimension Plane? "Yeah, well, I'll go for him."
"For me?" Clyde asked.
"No!" Alexis snapped. "Why on earth would you have the ability to shift dimensions? It's that old codger, isn't it?"
"I said it first," the other woman pointed out.
Alexis sighed. "Fine, you did."
There was a scoff. "And he's not old. He still looks like he did a few septillion years ago."
"Minus the eyes," Alexis noted. "And the sick mind."
"He's good for blackmail."
"Ladies, ladies," Clyde said. "This is all very well but, um, is there a way to change back dimensions?"
"Oh, sure," the sweeter voice said. "Just we need to go find that jackass."
"I thought you said he was hot," Alexis said.
"I never did."
"Yes, you did. Thirty days, seven hours, three minutes and forty-eight seconds ago you did."
The second voice paused. "I really hate your skills, sometimes, Alexis."
"All in the hat, Elektra. All in the hat."
"Look," Clyde said again. "What you're telling me is that the person who put me in this dimension is the only one that can put me back in?"
"Yeah," Elektra said. "And if he turns up I really need to talk to him."
"He's older than the Base Universe, and you want to go on a date with him." Alexis made a noise like she was putting her head in her hands. "You're just hopeless."
"Well, you can't judge a book by its cover."
"He's wrecked the most pain and destruction in the entire existence of the universe. And you're saying not to judge by their cover."
"Just because you are practical and have no feelings—"
"I'd rather have that then throw yourself at every powerful guy you meet."
"He's the daemon. He's amazing."
"By 'amazing' you mean psychopathic, right?"
Clyde could imagine Elektra throwing her hands up. "You're the one who banned pirates."
"Elektra, he is a pirate."
"A billion years ago."
"Okay, you're having a fight over the guy who put me in this alternate dimension."
"Pocket dimensions," Alexis said. "They co-exist with the major ones. Think of them as backtreets, I guess."
"C'mon, Alexis, he's freakishly hot."
"He is freakishly lacking in emotions. What makes you think he doesn't plan to kill you? Knowing that guy he probably put the Eidolon in that dimension solely because that would mean we would seek him out and then he is free to freaking gut us."
"But we have—"
"Yes, we have her, but she's still useless until she's been trained. She's got the Mark on her arm. She's dead meat."
"But why would he go for her? Petty little demigod, when we're here?"
'So you'd like to be hunted down by him, would you?"
Clyde rubbed his eyes. "Ladies, it's all very interesting with this boy talk, but really, how do you plan to get me out of here?"
"Do you remember anything? Of how you got here?"
"I remember you making me shit myself with your itty bitty demon crap."
"Ah," Alexis sighed. "That was fun."
"But other than that, no."
Elektra continued, "we didn't bring you here. We found you at the edge of the boundaries. Not even the demon could break through them they are so ancient. Not unless he really tried . . ."
"Wow, you are a power-hungry bitch, aren't you?" Alexis commented. Clyde winced, waiting for an explosion.
Nothing.
Elektra sighed. "You just have some issues. I mean, as an ally—"
"He does not pick sides. He is just a heartless demon wherever he goes."
"I believe," said a new voice. "That you would be talking about me."
This time the guard is prepared to fight. In a moment he twists my arms behind my back and pushes me to the ground. "Tris!" I can hear Piper's voice, just it's not helping.
"Shut it, McLean," the guard growls.
And Piper does stay quiet, but then her voice changes. It becomes softer, impossible to not listen to. "Let her go. She hasn't done anything."
The guard's grip loosens, but he doesn't let go. His voice is tight when he says, "Charmspeak."
"Let her go," Piper says again, stronger. "She has done nothing wrong."
The guard's hands are trembling, but he lets go. I scramble to my feet, not understanding what is going on. "You're a demon, you know," the guard manages against a tight mouth.
"There's a knife in your belt," Piper says. "Take it out."
"No," the guard says. "No, no, no, no!"
"Take out the standard-issue knife in your belt."
I watch in horror has the guard takes the small knife from his belt. What's happening? What's he doing?
"Raise it above your chest."
Sweat drips down the guard's face. "I knew we should have killed you when we had the chance," he spits. Piper says nothing.
The knife gleams as the guard holds it just above his sternum.
"Stab yourself through the heart."
I turn and run before I can see what happens. There are guards stationed everywhere in the corridor, but my heart is pumping so hard I take them out without much of an effort. Duck, swing, a jab to the throat, a punch to the temple.
I continue to sprint down the stairs, not even feeling my legs move.
"Tris."
My legs come to a skidding halt. I'm on the level below my cell. Piper's voice. It's different, but I can't figure out how. It's definitely Piper's voice, but there is an edge to it, something that's off.
"Tris, run!" that voice is the one I know as Piper's voice. It sounds desperate. But I can't run. I can't move. I look at the door of her cell. All the guards have knives through their chests. My heart is pumping so hard it feels like it's in my throat. I feel like I'm going to vomit.
"Tris." It's the other voice this time. "Come on. Come over here. Come on, let's get us out of here, eh?" it's the same cold voice now. The not-Piper. Trembling, my feet start to carry me towards the sound. No, I think, but I can't seem to order my feet to where I want to go.
I want to speak, to open my mouth and object to the not-Piper's question, but I can't, it feels like a cold vice has been placed around me, and I have no control.
"No," Piper's voice is strained. "Tris, run—now!"
"No, no, don't listen to her," the voice purrs. Something inside me snaps. Don't listen to her.
I won't listen to her.
Driven by some force I stride forward to the door, raise my fist, and feel my stomach knot. As I punch the door, there's a bright blast of lightning.
I remember once that I slipped over on the gravel and scraped all the skin off my shins. That sharp, grating feeling that made me wince is back now, just so much stronger and almost like it's inside me.
I stumble back, but strong, cold hands grip my neck in a vice.
I remember looking at pictures of Piper in Odysseus. She had been tall and beautiful, with rich, toned skin.
But the creature standing in front of me is as pale as marble, with blue lips and blue-tinged eyelids. But her eyes are completely black.
She hisses in my face, and I wince away. Instead of teeth, she has brutal fangs, like a lizard.
"Well," she purrs, "the great Beatrice Prior."
Her eyes are cold. I swallow. This isn't Piper, this is a demon.
The Doors rose up, right in front of her. "Percy," she said. "We . . . we made it."
Percy said nothing. Annabeth looked sideways to see why, but there was no one there.
"Beware, Annabeth Chase." The voice was cold, ancient. Far, far older than Gaea. "Beware of your fate."
Annabeth stumbled away. Percy should have been there. They were in Tartarus together!
"Percy!" she called. Her stomach tied itself in knots. "PERCY!"
The voice laughed. "How petty they all seem . . ."
She took another step back, her heartbeat in her mouth. Suddenly she fell against something. She sprung away, feeling so full of adrenaline and fear she felt she was going to explode.
Where she had been stood a boy. He was thin, too thin, maybe, but his form was hidden by an overcoat of some sort. Before him he held a bronze sword, tip resting against the stone floor of Tartarus. His dark hair fell over his eyes, and there were scars on his hands.
Slowly, he looked up, and Annabeth almost blacked out. The eyes staring at her were so cold and empty it felt almost like she was being pulled. Suddenly pain exploded in her skull, and she fell to her knees, gripping her head so hard she thought it would shatter. She shut her eyes, but the haunting image of the boy's black eyes was almost like being mentally blinded. It blocked out all forms of thought, of emotion.
But it didn't block out sense.
She could feel it, a horrible feeling of sense, that feeling that you feel as the blade falls against your neck, seconds before it slices through it. The feeling of sense, of a harmony with the fabric of existence.
It was addictive.
"Enough," said a voice.
Annabeth's eyes snapped open. There was no feeling of sense, but she felt almost as if she could feel a ghost of it . . .
"That's enough," snapped a cold voice. Annabeth stared up at the face of the speaker. It was the face of a man, well, hardly a man, he couldn't have been any older than twenty, with a hard-set mouth and brow.
The face turned away. "It's worse than we thought. She's already being Hunted."
"Well," another face drifted into focus, with black hair and dark eyes. "That was unexpected."
"She's being Hunted, Lady Ale—"
"I heard, Geoff," the woman snapped. "I may be ancient but I'm not deaf. Get lost."
Geoff didn't say anything. There was the sound of a turn of heels, and then heavy footfalls out of the room. Annabeth reached up to touch her head, and felt a long gash running over her forehead, stopping at her right eyebrow.
"Hmmm," the woman said. "You seem remarkably human. Unremarkable, really. Just another confused girl."
Annabeth grinded her teeth. She wasn't going to kill the woman, she wasn't going to kill the woman.
"Or demigod, as I should say. Annabeth Chase. Oh yes, you ring a few bells. Set off some high people. But really, deep down, Annabeth Chase, you are just a confused little girl that hides in the shadow of anger."
Annabeth lunged, but the woman wasn't there.
"You crave sense," she said again. "The feeling a dead man gets as the sword swings. You crave it. You desire it. Even more so than you desire the one you loved so very dearly falling between your fingers like sand."
Annabeth was on her feet, trying to get a shot at the woman, but every time she swung the woman was no longer there. She seemed almost ghost-like.
"Anger. A foolish emotion. The convicted criminal does not feel anger when he is charged. He feels shame. He feels fear. Maybe he even feels proud. But angry? No. Anger is for the fool. The Hunted should not feel so."
At last Annabeth gave up, pressed her fingertips to her temples and shouted, "Enough!"
It felt almost like a shockwave being pressed through the air. The woman stopped, mid-forming. She was all weathered skin and dark hair. At last her form finished and she straightened.
"Good," she said. "Training may commence."
"I don't care about this training. Who and what are you?"
The woman smiled. "I am Lady Alexis of Past's Echo. Sister to Elektra, Future's Path."
"Never heard of you."
"Exactly," Alexis said. "We only came into being as the war started. People thought of the past and of the future a lot in the midst of war. We have three more sisters: Life, Death, and Sense."
"Then where are they?"
"Gone." Alexis's tone was sharp. "They were Hunted and killed by the Daemon. I don't assume you know who he is."
"No," Annabeth replied curtly. "I don't."
"Come," Alexis said. "Time for a history lesson."
C. That's his name. Is that his name? That's a stupid name.
Tobias rubbed his head again as he walked through the dark alleys of San Francisco, as he had seen on the signs. Where was he? He still had no idea. His last memory was of watching the video, the shouting, and one last glance at Tris.
Her small face had been tight in a scowl. There was no lightness in it.
Tobias looked up at the tape around a nightclub. Did he know the place? He touched the notice sign. Closed for further investigation to the murder of Mark Oaks.
Mark Oaks. Did he know that name? It sounded . . . familiar.
"Hey! You there!" he spun around, seeing two men armed with guns at the end of the alley. "Hold up your right arm!"
Confused, Tobias did what they said. What was so special about his—
"Fire!" one of the men said.
Tobias turned and ran down the alley. The popping sounds of gunfire filled his head. He could feel the bullets skimming by his face, so close he could almost feel the lead against his skin.
Run. Don't look back. Run. Faster, dammit! You think bullets get tired?
The voice wasn't his. If he hadn't been so focused on running from the bullets, he might have fainted in shock.
You don't know who I am? Dude, it's me—Clyde!
Clyde.
This time Tobias did stumble, but it was down a manhole. He was left hanging by nothing but his fingertips.
Oh shit, man—dude, let go!
ARE YOU INSANE?! Tobias didn't know what to do other than mentally scream. Maybe he'd lost the armed men. Maybe there was a chance that they—
"There! In the manhole!"
Letting go, Tobias told Clyde.
As soon as his fingertips left the steel rim of the hole, his stomach tied as he fell through open space, being pulled by the force of gravity. Tobias couldn't think, he could only feel his heart pumping in his chest as he fell straight down.
Bullets ricocheted of the walls of the sewer, and Tobias slammed into the fetid water. He jumped out, onto the ledge, in the process startling the rats that had been there.
Urgh, he thought, spitting. No doubt he was covered in shit and vomit and all the other revolting things that people flushed down their toilets. Tobias leaned back against the wall. I hope you know I hate your guts right now, whoever-you-are Clyde.
That's nice, Clyde said. You really don't know who I am?
If I did, maybe I'd be a bit more understanding of you being inside my fucking head.
No need to be a prick, geez, man. I just saved your ass.
No, you just dropped it in sewage. My ass has been in other people's shit.
. . . that does sound pretty nasty, now that I think about it.
You? Think? Oh wow, excuse me while I faint from shock.
And you say you don't know me, Clyde mused.
Tobias grunted and got to his feet. Other than feeling like he'd fallen into shit he felt okay. Further down the sewage tunnel, there was a faint light. It had giant moths buzzing around it. He remembered Christina's fear of moths. He snorted.
That's just harsh, Clyde said.
Tobias ignored him and worked his way through the rats scurrying around his feet towards the door. He batted a moth out of his face. The door was too covered in grime to see what it said, but Tobias started to turn the wheel on it anyway.
Tobias? Are you sure that's a good idea? There could be more shit through there!
Not like I can get any shittier, Tobias snapped and heaved the door open.
On the contrary, there was no shit beyond the door, rather a severe absence of shit. It looked like a medical facility. Or maybe a prison.
The room was whitewashed and spotless, with a single door on the other end reading Decontamination Room. Tobias didn't really understand why that would be there next to a sewer, and then he realized that maybe the sewer used to be an entrance.
He walked towards the door, and as soon as his fingertips grazed it a mechanical voice said, "Access granted. Human. Tobias Eaton."
Tobias jumped back, but the door only swung open. Beyond it was another white room, but this one had steam rolling up from the edges. Tobias swallowed as his curiosity won out.
And you thought I was an idiot, Clyde said.
Will you shut up? Tobias snapped.
He walked through the door and it slammed shut after him. He tried to open it, but it was locked.
Swallowing his mounting terror, he turned back to the room.
The steam had billowed up, and the room was warm. Water started spraying from the ceiling, well, Tobias guessed it was water, but it seemed to be washing away all of the crap on him . . . far better than water.
A blast of hot hair rendered him bone dry. He ran a hand through his hair, finding it not even damp.
"What the . . . ?" he muttered, but yet another door swung open in front of him.
"Unidentified personnel," the machine said again. "Tobias Eaton is unidentified. Tobias Eaton is unidentified."
That didn't really make sense to Tobias but he decided to run. In the only direction open. The door.
Asdfghjkl;'
Clyde jumped back, slamming against the cold floor. This person he could see, and he wasn't exactly the thing Clyde would've wanted to see.
Darkness, and a sense of falling. Almost like the person was a living black hole. That's how Clyde felt looking at the guy. Dark hair fell over his face, and Clyde could just see a furrowed brow and puckered mouth.
Definitely black hole.
"Y-yes," Elektra chocked out. "We're talking about you, Dae —"
"Don't shadow my name," Black Hole boy snapped. "You, Elektra, future, knows what happens when you do. As do you, Alexis," the boy spat their names out like they truly disgusted him. Clyde rubbed his head. The boy was giving him a headache.
"Quiet, daemon!" Alexis shrieked. "In the memory of our sisters I will not allow you to offend us."
"Won't allow me?" Black Hole said. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"You murdered our sisters!" Elektra screamed. "We have every right to not allow you!"
Black Hole leaned against the doorframe. "I always do love how ants tell you not to step on them."
Clyde swallowed. Something told him he should run, like, freakishly far, but the other half of him was desperate to get out of the pocket dimension.
Black Hole's eyes fixed on him. Clyde felt his blood turn cold. Even though he couldn't see the boy's eyes from the distance or under the hair, he could still feel the heavy cold and darkness that pushed down almost on his soul.
"You want him out of the pocket," Black Hole commented. "Give me the girl and he's yours."
"The girl is not up for debate. She's meant to defeat you."
For a moment, Clyde almost thought the boy smiled, a cruel, cold smile, but still an emotion other than his heavy beaten face. But he didn't. "Defeat me? If you had said defeat God then maybe I would have believed you. But me? Have you been drinking that ale, again, Alexis? Or perhaps your sister has paid you a visit—"
"Greta's death was beyond insulting," Alexis said, her voice trembling with either rage or fear, Clyde couldn't tell. "The Silhouette of Death being killed by—"
"Yes, yes, it's all very touching. And then the Flame of Life being—surprisingly—also killed by me, and how's F—"
"She is not to be brought up!" Elektra screamed. Clyde could hear footsteps on the marble, no doubt Elektra storming forward. Black Hole's gaze followed her. "You have no right here!"
"Ironic, how when I am not physically here you all want me here, even fantasize about me, and then as soon as I'm here you all hate me. Isn't it so ironic?" Black Hole spat the word in Elektra's face (or so Clyde thought, he still couldn't see them.)
"Leave her out of this!" Alexis said. "She's young. She's foolish."
"'Foolish' is too childish a word. You wanted me here so that I could move the soul from my pocket dimension. Give me the girl, and he's out."
"No."
Black Hole cracked his knuckles. "Then he can stay where he is."
"Negotiate."
"I have had," Black Hole said, his voice tightening with obvious rage. "Longer than reality to perfect my negotiating, and my will. I am not a petty trader that will back down, so do not test me."
"What about Greta?" Elektra asked quietly. For maybe a moment, Clyde saw the corner of the boy's mouth twitch, from what he wasn't sure. "What has she got to do with it?" he snarled. "She's dead, remember?"
"We do not forget easily," Alexis said.
"You are destined to free him," Elektra said, her voice sounded different, almost hollow. Clyde jumped back from the sound, even though it sounded as if she was whispering it in his ear. "The eidolon does not remain in the pocket dimension beyond this conversation. For he is the key that leads to your quest. He is the one that frees you, Daemon. Without freeing him, you will forever be condemned to fear and death. You will forever be trapped with such the horror within you, and you will never find her should you not."
Black Hole's face remained black, but suddenly Clyde's ears popped, and he looked into a room full of people. There was a shorter, dark-haired woman with olive skin and a wrinkled face, and a tall young woman, barely twenty, Clyde would say, with stark white hair and eyes so pale they were almost silver. Both were wearing dark robes, with leather slippers on their feet, just where the dark-haired woman had gold-capped toes, the fair-haired had silver.
Black Hole didn't look pleased, which was saying something since his face hadn't changed. "I already knew the future of him," he said. "But the girl is out of my knowledge. Be careful of her. There is something that is different about her."
In a movement like a piece of black lace billowing in the wind, Black Hole disappeared, leaving nothing behind but a cold in the pit of Clyde's stomach.
"What," he stammered, "was that?"
The fair-haired woman looked across at him. Clyde couldn't help but notice her long lashes and angular face. She was very pretty. "That was the Daemon. In his mortal form. With possibly a wisp-mind."
Clyde recognized the woman's voice as Elektra. Her silver eyes fixed on him. "I have to explain a wisp mind, don't I?" she gave a small smile. Clyde felt his stomach knot. From what?
He shook Tobias's memories of Tris out of his head and began to listen to what Elektra was saying. "A wisp-mind is like a small tendril of a greater whole, I suppose you could say. Think of it as a huge tree. With leaves and branches and roots and so on. A wisp mind, in the Daemon's proportions, would be like taking a single cell from the smallest leaf. I guess you could call it a cell mind, really. But that's it. Should he speak to one of us with his whole mind forward, then our souls would likely be crushed by the weight of its presence."
"Then . . . does he ever have his full mind?"
Elektra laughed then, genuinely amused. "Oh, of course. There is a small hole in time and space, earth and air where the Daemon abides, where he is left in the solace of his full mind. It is said that he takes pity on all living things with our simple, tiny minds, which is why he kills us."
"Then . . . why call him a demon?"
Elektra's face darkened, and she looked away. Alexis spoke up, eyes still fixed on where the demon boy had stood. "Because while that is the legend, it is only that. The truth is that his soul was crushed by the weight of his evil. Evil took him over, and he became the Daemon. He has but one goal, and will do everything in his power—which is all power and even more—to get to it. But the problem? His goal is to reach the one thing that is beyond him. And it keeps him at bay. I fear that should he reach his goal, the world will be plunged into darkness like it was when he got Greta."
Elektra pressed her eyes closed, wincing. Clyde shakily got to his feet. "So what is his goal? I mean, you want me to help, don't you? There's a reason he put me in that dimension."
Alexis sighed. "I'm not sure you will understand his goal, but I will say that he has made a mistake three times: Life and Death. He made the mistake a third time, with our sister Felicia, but he realized it before he could do much, so instead he summoned his whole mind, and so her soul was crushed. Now she lies in her bed, lifeless, other than a heartbeat. Felicia will never again exist. Her body will die and then she will end. Leaving only the two Sisters of Time. And then I fear we will fail our oaths and the Daemon will succeed . . . unless our hope prevails."
"And what's your hope?" Clyde asked. "And what do you want me to do?"
"Our order is the only thing that has managed to survive eternity of the Daemon's wrath. Our fighters are trained enough to give him maybe less than a fleeting moment's thought. Perhaps even a moment. We need you to lead them, but first, before that, you must find your other half."
"My other half?"
"You were paired with another body before this one," Alexis explained. "Tobias Eaton. You must find him. With your mind, of course. We cannot risk another person dying. There is a reason you have maintained such a link, and that's because you are partly responsible for bringing his mind back to life."
Clyde scratched his head. "Then what's the other reason he's alive?"
"Corny moment," Elektra muttered.
Alexis sighed. "Love. The girl that you had been programmed to fall in love with, Beatrice Prior—"
"Tris," Clyde corrected absently. Programmed to fall in love with? What?
"Yes, well, the Legacy," Alexis amended. "She, in her frail mind, latched onto his spirit. He was her anchor while she was being threatened into insanity. She began to . . . how to put this . . . ? Hallucinate. His mind survived through her, the echo that she had clung to returned to Tobias and so he lived. It does sound horribly cheesy, but that is what happened. So now he is struggling through San Francisco as the Daemon just left him to come here."
"Whoa, what would Tobias—the most realistic and non-magicy guy I know—have anything to do with him?"
"As you realized, you have amnesia."
Clyde's eyes widened. "You know what happened?"
"No," they said in unison.
"But," Elektra said. "There is someone who does, even if they do not realize it."
"Really?" Clyde asked. "Great. Who?"
Elektra looked down. She knotted her hands nervously. "The Daemon's goal. The girl."
Dread settled in Clyde's stomach. "Who is she?"
"You have never met in person, I believe," Elektra said. "But you will. You have met her through Tobias's memories."
Clyde could hardly breathe. "It's not . . ." No, he thought. He'd met Tris. That left . . .
Alexis sighed. "Yes, it is."
Elektra lifted her face to the sky and closed her eyes. "It's Annabeth Chase."
ASDFGHJKL:"
Okay guys, confessions: I know I gave away spoilers about Tobias and Tris finding each other again and stuff like that, and I AM SO SORRY BUT I JUST COULD NOT BRING MYSELF TO STRETCH OUT THE CHAPTER ANYMORE SO I HAD TO CUT THEM OFF. NEXT CHAPTER. I SWEAR ON THE RIVER STYX, OKAY?!
Okay, okay, okay. That's good. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AY! I will try and get the next chapter out soon. It won't be as long, but IT WILL BE OUT. AND TRIS AND TOBIAS WILL MEET! AND LEO WILL COME BACK! I SWEAR IT! WHOOP!
Anyway, that was it. Um, yeah. Whoo. .3.
. . . I had way too much fun writing that last bit from Clyde. WAY too much fun.
So, my Chapter 25 Playlist . . .
Breath of Life - From "Snow White and the Huntsmen", Florence + the Machine
Dead Harts - Stars
Deep Shadow - Through the Lens (TTL)
Falling - Florence + the Machine
Fix You - Coldplay
Howl - Florence + the Machine
Lily's Theme - from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1"
Lover Soldier - Washington
Never Let Me Go - Florence + the Machine
October - Broken Bells
Paradise - Coldplay
Punching in a Dream - the Naked and Famous
Radioactive - Imagine Dragons
River Flows in You - Yiruma
Sailing to Nowhere - Broken Bells
She Wolf (Falling to Pieces) - David Guetta feat. Sia
Skyfall - Adele
Skinny Love - Birdy
So Cold - Ben Cocks
World Without End - Brand X Music
Secret - the Pierces
All or Nothing - Brand X Music
Okay, so these are just basically my favourite songs. Meh. I'm starting a thing where I create a playlist for every chapter so I can listen to it while writing . . . yeah.
Brand X Music are instrumental, "Secret" by the Pierces - that is just. asdfghjkl;' that is an amazing song, I seriously recommend it, just apparently it creeped the crap outta my friend. . . . Meh. "Dead Hearts" by Stars is one of the most amazing songs I have ever heard. I feel like crying every time I listen to it. Seriously. IT IS AMAZING. GAH.
Other songs I listened to while writing that I am too cheap to buy are:
"C'mon" - Panic! At the Disco
"How Far We've Come" - Matchbox Twenty
"The Scientist" - Coldplay
Yep. That's me done.
****EXTRA COOL AND AWESOME QUESTION****
Do you want me to create a character of you? I mean, if you want me to give me details of a character I will make them a random one-shot or something and happily write it out because I am just sad like that. I don't care what the character looks like of what they do, (I write freaking torture scenes for Pete's sake) so yeah. FEEL FREE TO ASK! I guess this is like commissions . . . would you rather me post them in A/Ns or on the owlcat92 deviantART page? *shrug*
So yeah. I'm about to go off on school camp, so I'll be . . . out for a while. You'll have to excuse that. I get to sit next to Cat and fangirl while eating lollies we smuggled onto the bus for 6 hours straight . . . and fangirl and possibly talk about Kid Flash running around in his yellow tights.
I'm sorry, but when you make this particular equation that goes a bit like this:
Owl +Cat + sugar + small space + other people + 6 hours + stuffy bus + lollies + getting up early + fangirlism = oh crap.
So yeah. BEWARE!
-Owl
(Just for the record "Skyfall" has started playing as I post this. WHOO!
. . . Wow that song is so Percabeth it's not funny . . .