The First Week
Her rapier pierced his skull, and he let out a half gurgle, half squeal as the life left his eyes.
Not that he was alive in the first place.
Dead end, thought March as she retracted her blade with a flourish, flicking blood out onto the destroyed street. There was still time for some dramatics, a little fun in her search.
She had time.
The Third Week
Dead end, she thought, loading a chamber into the sniper rifle. The sights were zeroed in on Tattletale's kneecap, the elusive Thinker none the wiser for it. It wouldn't matter. It was a favorite scene of hers that had been overplayed.
No one was alive here. Again.
She sighed as she pulled the trigger.
The Fifth Week
She walked under the overpass where she had once met Homer, his dying wish wasted on her in a rushed attempt at redemption.
Homer used to to be around, used to be alive, where he would berate her for her actions and the terror she created. Sometimes he wouldn't say anything, simply look at her with disgust and horror.
Homer stood there now, but the words were rote, marking him as among the unliving. Likely searching out those alive for himself, now that the Network was partially restored.
March slammed a baton against the cement pillar, swearing out of frustration.
A new dead end, she thought with anger and mounting horror, as she listened to Homer's final request from nearly a decade ago.
Her End
March kneeled down next to a dying Tori, and this dead end was the one that shook her the most. Because she knew, she just knew, that there was a way to get to her. The real her, not the undead simulation in front her that she didn't even bother addressing anymore.
Her instincts told her that the real Tori could hear at least pieces information through this doll, but for whatever reason, there was no reaching back.
And March didn't know what to do.
"We were wondering when you'd show up here. The real you."
Her heart thrummed in her chest as she leapt to her feet.
Foil and Imp stood there, slightly injured, but alive and well. As alive as any of them were as avatars in the minds of alien gods, at any rate.
Both were covered in a thin film of oil that seemed to seep in and out of reality. She could see it rolling off them like vapor, making the scenery around them foggy in the aftermath.
March connected the dots. The network coming back to life, the fragments of imagery and visions she found herself viewing at times, how hard it was becoming to move between certain time periods of her life.
They were polluting the network. Poisoning the well of information. Would it work? March didn't know for sure, not when the network had been so unpredictable. Even if they destroyed countless millennia of cycles, there was always a non-zero chance the powers that be would form a new Entity either way.
It was a gamble that she would have admired, in another time, as another person.
What wasn't a gamble was the intent of Foil, her muscles tense as she glared at her cluster-mate.
She's back to fulfill her promise.
March backed up as the two Undersiders advanced. She tripped, her enhanced sense of space and timing working overtime to account for the subtle changes Vista was applying to the battlefield.
"When you were gone, I brainstormed a lot with Tattletale. A bit with the Wardens and Breakthrough too. Ways that I could remove any trace of your existence or self from me. Drugs, powers, experimental tinker tech, a lot was passed around as potential options. Most of them felt like they would be dead-ends."
Her voice was so calm, in comparison to how tense and paced her movement was, a small bit of the old March wanted to tease her. Instead, the March of now tried to stand and say something, only to stumble once again. A new fold had been made, keeping her off balance.
This wasn't how it went last time. They're not giving me the possibility of fighting back.
"When Antares came up with this powered plague, it sort of came together for me. How I could save myself from the hell of being with you for eternity, instead of being with the woman I love."
Her power was being applied to her rapier, rainbow sheen coating the blade. Where the power met the oily substance, gaps in existence bubble up to the surface. Every slight movement of the sword left a stuttering image of reality behind it, like the scenery within the Network couldn't load properly for a few seconds.
"I'm..." Foil took a moment to center herself, "I'm going to be a monster March. I'm going to remove as much of you as possible and the rest... the rest I'm going to have to learn to live with. Because she's worth it."
March had a good guess as to what would happen if Foil ran her through with that blade. Foil wasn't wrong that there would be pieces left over. Broken pieces that would barely be able to retain consciousness within Foil, going as mad as a hatter from the pain and isolation... but they would be March nonetheless.
Foil and Imp kept up their approach, with every effort on March's part to rise to her feet thwarted by Vista's traps.
She'd died countless times before. Her heart was a familiar home to Foil's blade and she had long gotten used to the sensation of bleeding out, incapable of moving as the weapon tore through her spine.
But this was different. This was permanent. This was long-term.
The image of Tori, forever wondering if March had given up her search, never knowing what happened to her flashed through her mind.
The phantom pain in her heart had nothing to do with anticipation of the sword.
In a moment of panic, out of sync with her experience entirely as the March, she raised her own rapier-
Foil sped up her pace.
-And threw it away, turning to the advancing mercenary with both hands raised, "I'm sorry!"
Foil paused, the vague outline of her expression behind the mask showing her blinking rapidly.
"I'm sorry," March said. "Foil, I cannot express to you how sorry I am."
"...What are you planning?"
"Nothing! I'm... well, I'm honestly not sure what I'm supposed to do."
"Shutting up and dying would be a great start," Imp noted.
Foil meanwhile, was scanning the surroundings, as if March had figured out a way to break the replay and have back up of her own. Finally her eyes settled on the Tori simulation, still bleeding out off to the side.
March could see how her pool of blood mixed in with a tendril of powered oil, mixing and molding into sludge that vanished from sight.
She had to control her breathing - not really something she'd ever had to worry about in retrospect - which was surprisingly hard to do while on her ass at sword point.
Foil shook her head, "Don't do this March. Don't act like you had a last minute change of character."
"Wasn't really last minute. More like a month and six days of running, fighting, and dying. All alone with my thoughts and a bit of yours."
"Because of the broken network," Foil answered, pointedly ignoring March's last remark. "You were basically left to run in place with your friend. Homer, right?"
"I don't think he considers me a friend anymore, but yes. You got it one Foil, just how our power likes it."
Foil raised her sword again, the tip inches from March's chest, "Don't."
"I can't," March said. "I can't do this anymore, Foil. I'm just... I'm just so done with all of this. Even if given the chance to reverse this situation, to have my sword at your throat, I wouldn't take it."
"Because you still want to roleplay Buffalo Bill?" Imp asked.
"Because I want her!"
March gestured to the Tori ghost, still bleeding out and watching the scene with lifeless eyes. Imp just shook her head and crossed one meaty man-arm over the other.
"And I can't do that if I'm ripped to shreds for eons. And it will be for eons, whether your plan works or not."
Foil gave a pained expression, jaw muscles tightening.
March tried one last time, "You know this. The same way you knew I was telling the truth back then. Or the then we are in right now. I'm telling the truth. I'm done with you, Foil. You're free to be the hero you want to be, instead of the monster I almost made you become."
Foil shook her head again, violently.
I'm doomed, she thought with despair. Not something she had felt since her fight against Bill. March brought her hands down and lowered her head in defeat.
She waited for the pain.
A moment passed.
"Hey."
March looked up.
Foil hocked a loogey right into her face, enhanced accuracy meaning it nailed the transparent eye-hole of her mask. March fell back in shock.
"You stay the fuck out of my head, March. If you end up in a dream with me or Parian, or anyone that I care about, and we're aware of you before you're gone? I will personally take this plague again just so I can hunt you down and wipe you from existence. This isn't a second chance and this isn't a redemption. This is me telling you to get the fuck out my way, or else. Understand?"
March, still half in shock, nodded vigorously. The saliva smeared across her mask.
Foil flicked out with sword, pointing to Tori, "Get the fuck out of my sight you pathetic lunatic."
Her power kicking into overdrive, March didn't miss a beat, scrambling to her feat and diving for Tori.
Not Their March
The pool party with Jan, surrounded by perfect facsimiles of the unpowered party-goers, minutes before the police arrived. March took a moment to give the Jan ghost a hug, before moving on.
Brother's Keepers
Finding the Graea Twins crying in the sewer, their third sibling's blood still drenching her costume. She gave them a hug as well, even though they never really liked her that much.
She moved on.
The Lost Boy
Opening the door to Precipice, a desperate and scared little Fallen boy in need of dire help.
The hero glared at her with startling intensity, and she quickly slammed the door in his face.
A Very Important Date
Jan opened the bar door.
Three at a table in a shitty pub, four looking worn out, scared. She recognized them all, had seen their ghosts constantly during these painful months, could commit every bit of their description to memory even without help from her power.
Jace, who was prematurely balding and who had veins at his forehead, not from stress, or maybe only partially from stress, but because that was the way his forehead looked. Bits of his armor covered his civilian clothes and scuffed the wooden bar he sat by, his shield left leaning against one of the pool tables.
Megan was by his side, close but not touching. She retained the most of her civilian outfit, casual dress wear for an office space, the only tell-tale signs of her cape identity being the blue scarf wrapped around her brown hair and the contact lenses in her eyes. March imagined those lenses were now permanent.
Tori stood alone, done up nearly entirely in costume, braids fill with her feathers. Her costume included a long coat with hundreds of cobalt blue chains around the collar where a fur collar might normally be, covering most of the bathrobe she wore, short enough that it toed the line to indecency. Her brown skin contrasted with the silver mask she wore, blue highlights making it pop all the more. Permanent electric blue eyes now.
March had been here so often, had done the rounds for so long, that the new looks of recognition on their faces took her breath away. Jan's ghost stood next to her, now the only one among the living.
For so long, she had practiced what she would say, the speeches she would make. Anything that could be said now that they all knew the truth of system they were a part of. All of them fell away at the hurt in their eyes.
"I'm late," she said lamely.
Silence. Tori wouldn't meet her eyes.
It was Jace that finally spoke up, voice rough, "Megan's still alive, or was. She was there when the plan was implemented and she's been filling in blanks. Explaining why Bianca was so suddenly distracted."
"A clone," Megan supplied. "Her former lover and another tinker brought her back. Bigger, stronger, but under their control for the most part I think. Bianca's stuck trying to regain control and prevent the clone's identity from usurping hers. Best I can hope for is they both destroy each other."
"They won't," March answered. "Or they can't. A part of them will always exist, no matter how small. Most likely they blend together. Even your disease would just blur the details a bit, I think."
More silence.
"It was a nice break while it lasted then." Jace sounded so tired. "These past few months have felt like decades. Sometimes we get peaks from Megan's eyes about events in the present, those keep us grounded for a bit, but Bianca would always pull us back and make us relive everything. Lives as her slaves, her loving pawns, and knowing that it's all fake."
"Sometimes we see her dying," Megan said. "We can take a bit of solace in that?"
"Sometimes I relive myself dying. Isn't that right, March?"
March nodded at his knowing look, "I'm so sorry, Jace."
"Are you?"
All eyes turned to Tori.
Her words were tense, but she just looked sad. "Isn't this everything you wanted March? The big secret you've kept from everyone, from me, that this hell of other people is what we had to look forward to?"
March gulped, "It was hard for me to think about. I wanted to cherish every moment if you Tori. With all of you. I really did want to find a way to get you connected with me, and maybe connect everyone."
"You lied to me," Tori pressed. "Maybe not directly, but definitely implicitly. All those word games and vague descriptions of your plan."
March nodded.
Tori gave a sad, broken smile, "Poor form."
That hurt more than any blade to the heart.
"Did you ever really love me, May?"
"I-"
Tori raised a hand and March went silent, "I am asking you, May. Did you love me? Did you ever?"
Megan and Jace were staring intently, eyeing March with some apprehension.
March's looked down at the floor, considering. The months of running from rabbit hole to rabbit hole, reliving every moment that her Shard had recorded, more than a few that didn't belong to her. Her twilight dream slowly but surely crumbling in the face of this unreal reality.
Homer's disapproval. Jan as her constant but unfortunately silent companion.
March reached up and unlatched her hat, her other hand undoing the straps that held her mask in place. She turned on her heel and threw the pieces of costume back through the open door, and into another scene. Her sword was already lost.
Turning back, May forced herself to meet Tori's eyes, "I do love you, Tori. Always have, always will. I love all of you, and I'm so, so sorry for being such an idiot in how I treated you. I- I don't know... I don't know what to do. Can you help me? Please?"
Megan and Jace's expressions softened. Tori's eyes watered, tears brimming over a metal mask as she leaned against the drink bar, hugging herself.
For the first time in a long, long time, the steps that May took forward were hesitant and with no tempo to guide her.