Chapter Fourteen

There was no box.

A stream of light from the rising moon lit up a dent in the rumble where the box would have been. It was not here. The box was gone.

He should have probably guessed that would be the case. Why would they keep the box here? Who was 'they?' His father definitely. His mother, probably. Felica, obviously. They must know where it is now. Felica would have loved to stick her nose in this business. She had to know. Maybe the other curators know too. Pinky would have to know. This is near her territory. She probably hid it herself.

Mi was furious. Its temper burned in Newton's head. The heat seeped into his nerves, causing pain. He winced and held his head with his hands.

'Where is it?'

"How am I supposed to know? Its why I came here in the first place." Newton spat. His own temper was rising. The box should have been here. The power he felt emanating from this place was not a lie. He could still feel it.

Maybe he did not search properly.

'It's not here. Don't waste your time. Find it.'

Mary should have returned by now. The newspapers might hold the answer. It did not soothe his burning hands or head, but the anticipation of seeing the box soon rose.

He left the rubble without a second glance.

The wind picked up as he arrived at the manor. The grass seemed to quiver before him. As it should.

The night was dark and choked out any light source except for his. Newton did not notice his once bright yellow light was replaced with dusty orangish colour. It flickered dimly, casting weak shadows.

The door was locked, but that did not matter. With a brush of his fingers, the door opened for him. There was a soft gasp of surprise on the other side. Mary was on the floor with dozens upon dozens of newspapers scattered about. She looked embarrassed to be caught in such a position. She quickly got up. "G-g-g-good evening, s-sir. I got all the n-newspapers I could find. I-I thought to spread them out so it would be easier to…look at?"

Newton did not respond. He walked over to her, eyes glancing at the newspapers. Judging by her awkward gaze, she did not find anything yet.

"D-did you find anything at the-"

"Does it look like I found it?" His voice turned harsh. Mi's presence pushed itself into reality. Two different minds in agreement. They were frustrated. "What a dumb question," Newton said, shaking off Mi's influence.

Mary flinched and turned away. Her face was contorted in fear. She was afraid he would put her in a trance again. Mi was considering it, but Newton thought better of it. He needed an extra pair of eyes.

"Help me search. Do not stop until every newspaper is read."

Mary went on her knees and began reading instantly. Newton stared at her for a few moments before he too bent down and began reading. It was an arduous task that lasted a few hours. Most newspapers were simply a repetition of what happened last year, and others were dull reporting of the weather or praising a new invention.

A few times Mary raised her head and opened her mouth to say something but thought against it. If she was stopping herself, it probably was not important. Newton's temper was rising swiftly with each paper he threw away. It reached a point where he simply burned the paper to ashes when he was finished.

They were down to the last paper. Mary sat awkwardly as Newton scanned through the pages. There was still nothing. Did no one care about that damn box?

Then he saw her name.

Felica reporting the investigation in the Chasm.

That had to be it. He gripped the sides of the paper tightly. He skimmed through the drab details and slowed down once his father was mentioned.

Captain Pud had removed the box which prisons the insidious Titans. The location of which…

This was it. The Titans would be free soon.

…will be kept secret. The prison of the Titans be will secure, fear not dear readers, but Captain Pud wants to avoid a repeat. All he's telling me is that it will be tip-top se-

The paper caught fire. The flames did not hurt his hands. Mary watched in terror, letting out a soft gasp.

Mi was screaming in his head. Newton had to bite down on his hypothetical tongue to not do the same. The papers were useless. Felica was useless. Mary was useless. His father was useless.

He was useless.

Purple electricity shot out from his hands and struck the ceiling. The lights shattered and went out, plunging the room in darkness. The dull orange colour of his lightbulb flickered between purple and yellow dimly.

"I have to find that box!" He screamed. "How am I help this pathetic world if I cannot have this power! How can I destroy it-"

He stopped himself. He was not supposed to destroy anything. Remodel, remake and recycle for sure, but not destroy. Mi burned violently in his head. "AH!" Newton cried out, clutching his head desperately.

His mouth moved on its own. "Find the box. Find the box. Free the Titans. That girl was lying. Find her. Find the box."

Immediately, the pain receded. A coolness flooded through his body. A dreaded calm followed. There was silence.

Mary had crawled backwards away from him. She looked horrified.

Newton smiled. "Don't worry Mary. Everything will be okay. You did well. Go and sleep. I've got someone to visit."

Mary had no will to fight against his commands.

Felica lived a fair distance from the town.

Her family was quite well off. They owned a publishing company, the same one that published her articles. Her home was decorated with souvenirs from her travels. A massive metallic coin with a carving of a long-dead curator in a faraway land hung on her door.

Newton suspected that she went on these adventures, not to just write about distant lands, but to track down his father and find some dirt on him. Felica's dislike of the Pud family did not stop at Newton. She had to spread that anger towards his father, but she has yet to find something, so she treated him with begrudging respect.

It might be that the curator of Bunkum was the father of someone who got her kicked out of the academy was the next appropriate target. Yet she had not written anything bad about him. She never said anything about him either.

Newton frowned. He could be reaching with these theories. Felica may just want to go out exploring. She may just hate him and only him.

It was all fair. He hated her just as much. She crippled him. He had to go through with these actions if he was going to be redeemed.

She knew the location of the box. She was going to reveal that to him, after all, she owed him that much.

Mi was surprisingly silent. There was a lack of an annoying voice pushing him towards extreme actions. The whole affair at the manor was a blur to Newton. He suspected that he did not treat Mary very well though.

He knocked at the door, aware it was late in the night. He would not have been surprised if there was no response. He could get in by other means. But before he could trespass, the door swung open to reveal a curious sackbot.

"Greetings visitor. It is very late. The missus is sleeping at the moment. Please come back tomorrow."

Before the sackbot could close the door, Newton shoved his foot in the way. "I'm not going anywhere. You wake her up. I need to speak to her now."

The sackbot stared at him hard. Before it could speak, another voice interrupted. "It's okay. Let him in." It sounded drowsy like the speaker had just woken up. It was Felica. She was dressed in a nightgown. She glared at him.

The sackbot shared her distaste and reluctantly stepped aside.

"I see you slept well."

"I had woken a few minutes ago. Had a feeling of dread constantly. Then you showed up by the door. I'm not going to win any awards for saying that is not a coincidence," she said, leading him to the sitting room. Newton sat down, hands clenched tightly in a fist.

The sackbot left them.

"What the hell do you want then? I'm publishing that article, you know? I don't care what you will say about it. People need to know you are a little wea-"

"What article?" Newton exercised great restraint not to raise his voice.

Felica smiled, coyly. "Why what happened with Pinky's party, of course. Some people at Craftworld is not a good enough audience."

"Why are you doing this? You've tortured me enough as is. Why can't you just shut your mouth and do something more worth your reader-less articles?"

She frowned deeply. "I'm a reporter. I simply report. If that tortures you, you should stop doing it to yourself. You haven't changed a bit since the academy. Always self-pitying and whinging. You are the most self-destructive person I have ever met. I'm letting everyone else know that being your friend means nothing. You would just be sacrificed for the sake of his crafts." She spat the last words out.

"Why did you even take pity on me then? Why bother helping me back then? I didn't need you!"

"Yes, you did!" She suddenly laughed. "Are you kidding? You would have been kicked out a long time ago if it weren't for me. You were just rotting away in your room. Oh, forgive me for taking pity on you. I just wanted to help you. I thought you needed a friend and I decided to be at least that! And…you were a good friend." She paused. "Maybe I shouldn't have done anything. At the least, you would have gotten kicked out and I would have been a certified crafter!"

The years of tension expelled out of her. It must have felt good to have that anger finally leave her after all these years face-to-face.

Newton's anger was raging inside. Mi had not interfered thus far, and Newton would have been worried why his head was so silent if he weren't starting to see red. "I'm not here to hear your sob story of regrets. I came to ask you a question that you are going to answer."

"I don't have to answer anything."

He ignored her remark. "That tea box. Where is it?"

Felica looked stunned. "Y-you're kidding right?" She pulled her head back and cackled. "You can't be serious. Why the hell would I tell you, someone, who is clearly not stable, where the Titans are? You really lost it, Newton."

Energy flowed to his hands, raising their temperature. It was not the Titan's power. It was something else. He wanted to see the magenta power envelope his hands. He wanted to see her fear and regrets when she realised who she was talking to. He was going to be this world's future ruler. If he could remake this world, then he would remake it without her.

He would obliterate her.

Erase her.

He lunged forward. She screamed. They both fell to the ground. She slammed her head against the floor, cutting her scream short. Her gaze was unfocused. Everything was purple.

Good. Good. Perfect.

His hands curled around her neck and he began to squeeze.

Her vision returned as her oxygen was suddenly blocked. She clawed at his hands and gasped for air.

He would erase her. She was not needed in the new world. She was not needed in this world. It would save him the effort later to do this now. Kill her now with his own bare hands. He did not need the Titans to help him.

Mi's voice whispered in his ear. 'Her memory. Search her memory.'

Newton needed no encouragement nor direction. He freed one hand, tightening the other against her throat. He pressed his hand against her forehead. There was something there, something he could reach. It was light and floaty. It was within his grasp.

A memory.

"So, whatcha planning on doing with the Titans?"

Captain Pud smiled gently at her.

"NO!" Felica cried out. It was impressive that she managed to get something out when he was slowly crushing her throat. He thought he was not doing a good enough job and pressed down harder, causing her choke. He reached in for more.

"To be frank, my dear, I don't know. There may not be a safe place for these things. Someone will find them eventually and the cycle will continue. There has to be a permanent solution, but I don't know what it is." He sighed.

Felica smiled, sympathetically. "As long as there are people like you, then we don't have to worry, right?"

"That's a kind thought, Felica."

'Why were they so friendly with each other?' Newton's own thought could not help to interrupt. The flames of his anger burned brighter. He stared down at Felica, who was starting to claw at his hands with less vigour. Her eyes were rolling to the back of her head.

"N-N-N-New…. Please….S-stop." She choked. Bubbles of saliva formed on the sides of her mouth.

"I won't be around forever though," he said, looking at the box with sorrow. "There will always be the misguided though. My son…"

"Yes, Newton," Felica said with no frost in her tone. "I'd never think he would go so far."

"You dare speak my name?! You don't get to speak my name!" Newton snapped. Felica could not respond. Her hands limply clung to his arms. The white froth was reaching the carpet.

"I fear he will not be the only one. For now, there is only one place for this." Captain Pud turned back to Felica. "Don't tell a soul this."

"I promise."

"It will be hidden-"

…

Newton blinked. It was silent. He looked down.

Felica had stopped moving. Her blank eyes were staring through him. Her mouth hung open, allowing the spittle to complete its journey down her cheek. Newton slowly removed his hands, causing her limp ones to fall to the floor.

She was dead. Erased. Obliterated.

A sound smashed the silence. It was a giggle. One that held manic energy to it. Who would be laughing at a time like this?

Oh, it was his.

This was not funny. No, this was funny. A tragic comedy. He should laugh because it was so obvious. The Titans were hidden so obviously it was funny. Where else could they hide such a threat, then in the safest place in Bunkum?

The tragedy came from his hands did. This was not necessary. He never needed to do that. Felica never needed to die. But hadn't he intended her death one way or another? Whether it was by his hands or by the Titans, did it really matter?

Tears stained the carpet. Could someone cry and laugh at the same time? Didn't the actions seem contradictory?

A tragic comedy.

Felica was dead.

Felica was dead.

Felica was DEAD.

Newton screamed. He screamed with the fury, the pain, and the anguish. He screamed so that his lungs would burn, in the same way, Felica's had burned when he choked her. He screamed until there was no more air so that maybe he would die the same way she did.

"Hey, Newton! Whatcha doing?"

Newton looked up. A fleeting memory. He should grab it. Just in case.

"Hey Felica! Nothing much, what about you?"

"Hahah! You dope. Then let's do something together. Come on, we got a break to enjoy, right?"

Laugher. Bliss. Happiness.

"Let's do everything together, okay?"

"Okay, you promise?"

"I promise."

What did he do?

"Hey, Newton. You aren't going to get this message, but… whatever. Um… I do kinda miss you. I still hate you, don't get me wrong. I don't think I could ever forgive you for what you did, but I dunno maybe we could work something out?

I don't want to hate you forever."

Was this sacrifice worth it? For the perfect world, could he live with his actions? There was blood on his hands that no water would clean. There was a stain in his mind that would never be clean.

"Felica…I'm sorry."

What worth were words to the dead? They were only comforting to the living. He was lying to himself. If he were sorry, this entire mission would never have started. The Titans would never have won.

They had won. He had lost. Everything was spinning out of control. He had given up friends and family for this loose hope of redemption through control.

Who was he kidding? He could never be redeemed.

A choked scream escaped his mouth. There was a little flicker of yellow light in his bulb.

If redemption was out of the question, then what else was there for him? Nothing. There was nothing. Then there should be nothing. No one deserved this world either. It was only fair. He killed Felica, he might as well finish the job.

In the end, there would be nothing anyway. No one could vindicate him then. No one could forgive him. A world of nothing was a world of no consequence. It would be the only freedom he deserved.

The thin line that separated Newton from Titan shattered. Mi and Newton were one and the same. A world of nothing was what they deserved and what they desired.

The yellow drowned in the purple.

Sackboy rubbed his face.

"Hey, don't blame yourself kid," Marlon said, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was a weak gesture of comfort, but it gave Sackboy the strength to look up.

"I wasted so much time. I should have been here from the start."

"Hey, hey. Look. We said you could go. None of us suspected things would get that bad."

The siege at of the Factory of Tomorrow had taken a dire turn once the Alliance arrived. Clive had been hiding out in a small bunker nearby, but he had been captured and used as a hostage. They electrocuted him and flung him off the roof. Eve, riding a 2.0 Bee, had caught him before he hit the ground. She had to rush off to get him medical assistance.

The Alliance had gotten furious with the sackbot's treatment of Clive and had mounted an offensive. They tried to infiltrate the building from the top. The sackbots had managed to booby trap the roofs and disrupted Avalon's mechanical troops. Swoop had gotten shot down by a net and had struggled to remove it. The chaos of the battle had Swoop manage with it by himself. Toggle was busy trying to take over the roof to limited success.

Dr Higginbotham was trying to breach the security system and allow their entry into the factory. Papal was doing his best to defend him, but his older age had made him fall quickly.

At the same time, Larry and Victoria were escorting unaffected sackbots who were hiding out near the factory into a bunker for safety. Pinky screened them for the virus but luckily none were carrying it.

Sackboy managed to arrive before Dr Higginbotham would get overwhelmed by the mutant sackbots. Oddsock leapt into immediate action, darting from one sackbot to another. Sackboy utilised his Creationator to pump electric rays, short-circuiting several bots.

Once Dr Higginbotham had breached the system, the Alliance was able to push inside. To their surprise, most of the sackbots stopped fighting and began to flee. It was almost impossible the capture the fleeing sackbots.

Larry had to get out an emergency broadcast throughout Craftworld about rogue sackbots soon after. At least the siege had ended and a decent population of sackbots had been saved. However, it came at the cost of infected sackbots fleeing the area and thus spreading the virus even further.

The worst part of it all meant that all the infected sackbots that were lying unconscious had to be put down. Victoria and Clive were unable to find a cure and there was no safe and secure location to store a hundred rogue sackbots. It was with a heavy heart that the sackbots were shut off and piled inside the factory. The saved sackbots tried to help, but at the risk of exposure to the virus, they were asked to stay inside the bunker.

The atmosphere was dark, to say the least. Sackboy could not help but feel despondent. It certainly did not help to see a bedridden Clive whose paper face had severe burns on the edges. He was awake at the moment, speaking softly to Eve.

"I just don't understand why this is happening. Why did this virus appear? Why must there always be something that has to ruin everything?" Sackboy clenched his eyes shut.

"Life's a mystery. It likes to throw these things at us. Some may look at it as a test. Some think of it as a punishment."

"What do you think?"

Marlon smiled, softly. He leaned back in his chair to look up at the bunker ceiling. "I just think that's what life is. A challenge and an obstacle, but also a reward and punishment. Just depends on which way you look at it. Some people can take it well." He looked at Sackboy. "Like yourself. You don't care what life throws at you. You just do whatever it takes to make yourself and others happy. It's quite admirable, let me tell you that, haha.

"But some people don't take it too well. They think everything's going against them, that every moment of happiness will be taken away from them if they dare enjoy it. They think a curveball is a punishment. If someone wants to live that way, then go ahead, I say. But I'm not surprised when it starts to drain them."

Sackboy looked at him with an intrigued expression. "Those people…need people like us though. They need friends who can help them and prove to them that the world is not against them, right?"

Marlon shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose that is true." He paused in thought. "Maybe it's a bit of both? Like someone won't change even if their friends try to convince them. They have to be willing to open up their mind to that."

Sackboy could not help but laugh. "Marlon! I never could imagine you ever talking like that."

Marlon grinned. "A Shakespearean actor is Shakespearean at heart." He flashed a quick dramatic pose. Then, he relaxed his face and asked, "Well, what do you think, kid?"

"About what?"

Marlon gestured to the quietly tittering sackbots.

"We'll work it out. As you said, life can be a challenge, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to fight for my happiness and others." Sackboy said that without hesitation.

"I'm glad to hear that, kid."

A singular sackbot was wandering the path.

Its purple interface was an obvious sign of infection, though perhaps not so obvious to the inhabitants of Bunkum. They were only getting the early signs of the infection, and even then they were hardly concerned by the few cases of rebellious sackbots.

This sackbot had abandoned its owner a few hours ago. There was little resistance as it set the house on fire. It had been wandering aimlessly for a while, but there was a house nearby that grabbed its attention.

It was like an influence that beckoned to it. It could not help but listen. That's why it was not the only one approaching the house. There were several others marching along to an invisible rhythm.

Someone exited the house. Was it an inhabitant of the house? No, this one was much more. It felt like one of them. It was not a sackbot but the energy that pulsated around it was undeniable like their own.

The sackperson approached them. They paused in front of each other. Purple eyes to purple interfaces.

"I remember you."

The sackbots nodded. They remembered him as well. They had encountered in Craftworld. They mistook each other as enemies. They were not enemies.

"How could we be enemies, when we are the one and same?"

It was like gazing into a mirror. Separate consciousnesses yet once they were the same entity. Both weakened to the point, where they required weaker hosts.

"We are Mi." A multitude of voices cried. "And Mi is all."

Mi grinned. "The end has finally arrived for these pathetic planets. It is time for us to ascend. We must free the Titans. We must absorb the Creative Hearts."

His voice was not alone anymore. "We can be Morior!"

Sackbots everywhere, infected by the influence of Mi, raised their voices, and cried out for Morior. The Imagisphere shivered.