Despite Felicity's suggestions otherwise, O refused to stay cooped up in her host's flat, like some invalid or traumatised puppy. From where she was on the roof, she immediately turned around and asked Felicity to take her to the streets, to see for herself what nonsense land she had arrived in.
Felicity did a lot of fretting about the locals looking at a one-armed girl, despite O's general nonchalance, but the latter decided if they were going to make such a big deal of it, she would accept the large coat that was thrown over her shoulders like a cape, which obscured her figure well enough, even though it was a bit of an act to keep it in place: her much trimmed right shoulder unfortunately left less real estate to hang fabric off.
Still, with those and a pair of pointed leather boots, she looked almost ready to fit in and mingle with the crowds.
Had she not looked at the horizon, O would have thought the city around here to be chronologically placed within … 1930s America, she guessed. Somehow, like she would casually travel through time before this. Or she would know about what an 'America' is for that matter, but perhaps that was just something else buried in her missing memories.
But it was a dingy, weary city. The people's clothes looked repaired repeatedly. The cars were large, inefficient looking show pieces. The buildings around here were predominantly stone, the stores sold their wares with paper, wood and tin. Nothing about the streets looked modern
"I was studying medicine a year ago, before whatever happened."
"Whatever?" O asked. The vague phrasing was not indicating anything of use.
Felicity sighed. "I mean… I don't even know when it happened. I was asleep, and when I woke… everything was wrong. We started gathering and trying to figure out what it was, and people started realising…"
The woman stopped at the corner of an intersection and pointed upwards. O followed the finger to a building in the distance, a dark glass thing that looked as if several blocks were protruding outward to form a wider base.
"That's Willis Tower. That's supposed to be in Chicago."
She turned and pointed to another. "That's the Comcast center from Philadelphia."
They were all metal and glass to O, but Felicity identified the problem about each and every one of them. Los Angeles, Houston, San Francisco, Atlanta…
"It's not like they got pulled out of the ground and just tossed into one city. The people here, some are from West Coast, some are from Kansas, Oregon, Arizona, Georgia… their houses… it's like the entire continent just got squeezed into just a few hundred miles. Maybe even less. And we all come from different years. Hell, look at the buildings and the streets. Nothing matches. It's like… America-land, or something."
"Compression…" O muttered to herself.
To compact thousands of miles into what Felicity wanted to deny was little more than a glorified city… yes, by definition it was impossible. Except O knew that technically it wasn't, with the right method.
Off the top of her head, she could think of a few rituals that could warp space, or move mass across land. There were even a half dozen ways to fool the senses into believing another story.
Illusions couldn't account for her own presence. By nature they didn't handle outside interference well. Unless, the illusion was cooked up specifically for her, but who would? Some single-letter, single-armed corpse freshly warmed over in a place no one knows about, tossed across time and space? And if she were so incompetent that she had tricked herself with her own Mystery, she would just kill herself out of common courtesy to other magi-
Magi…?
She was a magus…? Because she used…
...Magecraft.
"Not only that, no one know how this happened. All we know is that it's getting worse."
O's eyes widened. "Worse?"
"The wall of the dust storm is closing in," Felicity said as she mournfully sighed. Around them, people hurried on, trying to escape her words. "It's burying the city. Living space is shrinking."
O listened to Felicity's silence, and understood every bit of what it meant. They both looked into stormy horizon, and the amnesiac wondered how much panic and fear was running under the skin of the city.
"No one's done anything?"
Felicity rubbed one of her arms uncertainly. "There's something like a government set up here, and they say they're looking into it, but I don't know… nothing is happening, and they just seem to be more interested in maintaining their grip-"
A cracking noise erupted through the air.
Heads turned, first in surprise, but as the cracking began to repeat in increasing tempo, crowds started running from the noise.
O, however, was not so given to drama, and it seemed, neither was Felicity, who cursed under her breath, while her amnesiac guest pointed in the direction of the noise.
"What was that?"
"Thugs, trying to take what they want. Let's get out of here, that sort-of government will send men soon."
O almost wanted to agree, but she suddenly thought better, as she started moving towards the noise.
"Well, then, let's see what we're dealing with, then."
"Hey-wait! They're shooting over there!"
It was an objectively obvious fact, and O decided not to dignify it with a response as she stalked in a course opposite to the human river escaping the noise.
At another corner, the amnesiac peeked to look around, and watched a group of men in a patchwork array of clothing. Cotton jackets and slacks over threadbare t-shirts, and bandannas fitted over their mouths. A few wore bowlers or caps. They had semi-automatic pistols, a few shotguns… all of which were being fired at random into the air down the streets, more intent on emptying it with panic than anything, though O did notice the navy blue uniform of a man lying on his face, sprawled and unmoving.
The men were forming a defensive line around the blasted front of a grocery story, where some were trying to load as many crates as they could into the back of a puttering pick up truck. The open-topped wood chests were stuffed in fresh fruit and vegetables, while others were filled with tinned food and bread.
So, since there was no Wild West, it seemed people just engaged in daylight banditry inside the mega-city instead. And yet it was for something as simple as fresh food.
O looked at the weathered appearance of the men, their slight sallowness of frame, and wondered how much of a privilege eating was.
In the distance was the sound of sirens, and a bandanna wrapped head emerged from the cabin of the pick up truck. He threw his head backward, shouting at the loaders.
"Come on! Hurry up!"
"We're fucking trying!" One shouted back, trying to shove a little more food, while others were beginning to climb up and cling to any open part of the truck they could.
Before long, the amnesiac watched the truck began to drive forward and away from the scene of the raid. But a very different sort of car came around a corner in front of the bandits. It was bright white and made of plastic, with brightly flashing red and blue lights atop it, and wholly anachronistic to everyone else. So it wasn't just people and buildings that were being nailed haphazardly to the 1930s.
The truck was too ungainly and too heavy to swerve around the more modern police car, which had 'Security Bureau' emblazoned on the side, and it was forced to screech to a halt, the truck and all its occupants wrenching forward from the inertia for a second. One of the bandits hanging off the side had a shotgun, which he fired once into security vehicle's windshield, which turned clear glass into a white cloud of anachronistic plastic and buckshot. This brought the car to a halt, which wasn't entirely to the bandits' aim of passing through, but several more of the men reflexively kept up the gunfire, peppering the car with their handguns, and keeping the occupants inside, alive or dead.
But even as the barrage continued, the passenger side door opened. O seemed to be the only one surprised who disembarked: a blonde girl wearing a green overcoat and hat. She didn't look older than ten years.
This… she… was in a security car. This tiny thing was being used to protect order?
But O's surprise was short-lived. It was only the appearance of the girl that had caught her off guard. But there was something she vaguely recalled that was telling her that here, in this bizarre place, the role that was being served was both desired and expected in O's line of work (What? What was that?).
At the sight of her, the guns went silent, all their owners watched with growing horror that they were facing off with this particular girl.
Then came the litany of shouts.
"Oh-oh, shit-!"
"Get us out of here!"
"She's gonna kill us! Floor it! Floor it!"
The driver fought with the throttle for a second before he managed to wrench it into reverse, causing the truck to pull away from the girl as fast as it could. Some of the thieves fired their guns, trying to tag the child, but the shaky transport and their own panic did little for their accuracy.
The girl stared at her departing foes. Then grew.
There was no hyperbole here. O didn't even have time to blink as the child, with the same proportions, simply blew up in size; metre after metre, past the height and width of an adult, a truck, a house… upwards and onwards until her shoulders brushed the buildings on both sides of the city street, several storeys up. Once toy-like, she now loomed over the car like it was now the toy.
She raised one of her booted feet.
The bandits screamed, and many of them leapt clear of the truck they rode. Several more were less lucky, stuck inside the truck cabin a second too long; sitting atop the flatbed, too hemmed in by the cargo to start climbing out.
The child crushed the truck underfoot, punctuated by a loud crunch of wood, metal, fruit and bone, while the ground shuddered at the impact, throwing a wave of force and dust outwards from the source.
Behind O, she heard a yelp. Turning, the amnesiac saw Felicity, who had at some point caught up to her. Her host was now sitting on the ground, having been unbalanced by both the gigantic stomp, and given the paleness of her face, the violence she was seeing.
Felicity sudden threw a hand over her mouth, and O turned around to see what had happened. She herself then grimaced at the colours that had been smeared into the ground, as the foot pulled away.
Around the streets, the bandannaed criminals unsteadily rose to their feet, stunned by the shockwave and perhaps the sheer presence of the massive child looming over them. What were ants to a god, anyway?
Or a god's helpers.
The sirens hand continued, and from behind the giant's feet, more security vehicles arrived and stopped under her shadow. Men in blue uniforms, helmets, and black bullet-proofed vests exited their cars, carrying rifles that they trained on the trembling criminals.
A voice echoed over the emerging firing line, "Pick your targets! Fire!"
Felicity yelped from behind O, as the latter watched the second act of the street-painting exhibition began - the surviving bandits jerked violently, bodies punctured with a fusillade of unrelenting fire. Their wounds sprayed blood across the paved road, while they jerked to and fro, and died. Some scrambled for cover, trying to return fire, but the scattered shots were far and few in the face of the sustained and continued barrage that this security force was maintaining.
Eventually the last bandit stopped standing upright, and at a call to cease fire, there were just crawling and dying men out in the streets, and the sound of feeble and fading moans here and there.
While smoke seeped from the barrels of their rifles, the security personnel slowly broke their line and cautiously paced forward, while a man in the rear relayed orders.
"Take it slow. Secure the area. Let's make sure they don't get back up."
O watched the proceedings, all the while absorbing the implications. A world where people killed for food. Where people killed the people taking food. Where those maintaining order were in control of that towering monstrosity.
One of the soldiers guarding this land walked up to a wheezing survivor, and shot him until he was neither.
"Shit!" Felicity swore behind her, "We have to get out of here!"
"Yes, let's," O agreed. Violence as the first resort bred a propensity for hair triggers.
The two women began backing away, until one of the men securing the streets noticed them. Which wasn't hard, since they seemed to be the only bystanders in sight.
They froze at the sight of a rifle being trained on them, and O felt Felicity's fingers dig into her one arm and the shoulder opposite.
"You there! You two! Stop right there! Hands where I can see them!"
O slowly, almost languidly brought her one arm up in surrender, while Felicity shakily brought her hands up from behind the younger girl's shoulders.
"What are you two doing here?"
"We were just walking!" Felicity croaked, still shrinking at the sight of the gun aimed at them both, "We were just walking and they were shooting and we hid! We haven't done anything! Don't shoot me!"
"We were just passing through," O agreed, unperturbed. Either she was going to be shot or she was not, and death was a continued reality for her. It was her job to be ready to deal with it.
"Bullshit. These streets are empty except for you two," the soldier said, frowning.
"It's the truth! They were shooting! We didn't want to get shot running away!" Felicity argued, but O had a feeling this would be a one-sided argument. She had to get ready to escape.
She wanted to roll her eyes at that though. Yes, she would politely ask these nice men to not shoot them for a few minutes, while she carved a ritual on the ground just in case. No, that would be terrible for the pavement. She'd ask if one of these upstanding gunmen had any chalk or charcoal-
Another unbidden thought reached her. You don't need to prepare a ritual. You have everything ready, already.
This, O thought, as she suddenly felt the metal on her hand pinch her fingers.
"I want you two to come with us," the man ordered.
"But we don't have anything to do with this! We just told you!" Felicity retorted, aghast.
"If you don't, then you won't have any trouble at headquarters. Unless you want to resist an officer of the law."
"Hey, fuck you!" Felicity shot back, much more vehemently. "None of you guys are the police! You just got more guns than the rest of us. And that thing there that steps on everyone all over this place!"
At this point, several more of these uniformed and armed men noticed the altercation, and slowly began forming a semi circle, rifles low, but certainly being caressed with meaning and intent. Above, even the giant turned its head to look down on them.
O and Felicity slowly backed up, while the men slowly approached.
"Miss, are you resisting our instructions?" The first soldier insinuated.
"Look, just let us go! You already killed everyone here!"
O could hear the fraying edges of her host's near hysteria, and knew this was the limits of their dialogue. A few more words and then the two would find themselves in the process of being dragged into the squad cars.
Therefore, O's hand, once raised placatingly, began to push forward until her palm was thrust in the direction of the men. The action caused every rifle to be pointed in her direction.
"Hey, what are you doing?" One of the security officers warned.
In her head, she envisioned her flesh set alight, and the agony of it melting off her bones.
"Nothing," she chanted.
"If you are, then you better put that hand-"
"Nihil."
An unseen wave erupted from O's palm. Even she could only tell it worked from the way the heat running through the channels in her body expunged itself through her hand, but when it did, she could see every man before her begin to go slack, their eyes dilating.
This was their chance. Turning about, O quickly walked off, grabbing Felicity by the arm to her confused warnings.
"Let's go."
"Wha-wait! But they're-"
"They'll forget we were even here."
"Forget? What did you do…?"
Above, the giantess seemed confused about the inactivity of the ants she was supposed to protect, and why they were standing there until the two women slipped around the corner. After almost a minute, the first of them began to blink and shake their heads. Looking around, he saw them all standing around facing one direction.
"What the… what are you all standing around for? We need to secure this area!"
Felicity slammed the door shut behind them as she and O returned back to the blonde's apartment, one shaken, the other feeling something in her stirring.
"What the hell was that? What even happened!? What did you do?" Felicity's questions came a mile a minute.
O took a deep breath, something rattling in her far too much to begin responding properly.
"I need to wash my face."
"Hey-!"
"Just wait. Do something to occupy yourself. You'll fret less."
O wandered into a side room, half-focused, and saw a sink. Throwing the coat off her shoulders, her one hand opened up the cold tap that spent several seconds spewing gritty water before it cleared out, and she spent several more cupping what little she could with her one limb and slamming it into her face, rubbing again and again to sweep away the dust she could feel.
It was strange, for all this knowledge to feed back in motes and scraps. No name, and no past, yet the knowledge of how to apply Prana to create Mysteries came unrelenting.
Mysteries, and the knowing that her rings were helping enact them. And she had five of them.
Water dripped from her bangs, and she looked down at the water slipping between her fingers and the brass on them.
And she looked up, and remembered this place had a mirror. And she finally saw herself.
It was strange to see the surprisingly young girl in the glass widen her eyes in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Stranger still that it took this long for her to discover her face.
A wild tangle of silvery-white hair spilled down her back and over her shoulders, and a pair of yellow eyes looked back at O. A slender creature, she was, her paleness and femininity giving an impression she was perhaps a princess or a noble in another world, a being to be waited on and received with graciousness, not something tromping around with the meek of the Earth, to break her nails on stone. But here she was.
She stood, and the figure in the mirror matched her. She straightened her back, and looked at the water drop off her face and leave wet spots on her shirt. Turning her head from side to side, she slowly took in the fact she was this person, this woman with neither a complete body or a memory.
But she still had her intrinsic self. Shifting her cheeks and her lips repeatedly, O made half-hearted attempts at smiling, and grinning, and even a coy smirk, and found them to be out of practice and awkward. She was not that sort of person. But when she set her gaze forward, imagining the world past her mirrored visage, and left herself a stern and focused stare, she nodded, knowing this was her.
Now, as for what that focus should be aimed at…
She left the bathroom, and saw Felicity sitting at a small table that likely indicated the narrow space besides the kitchenette was supposed to be for dining. On it was an old radio she had carried over, and some cups with a kettle of fresh tea.
O's frowned, "That familiar, those men… who are they in this place?"
Felicity had her ear turned towards the radio, as she looked at nowhere in particular, fingers clasped before her mouth as she listened to the music coming out of the machine.
"Sit down, and wait a moment, you'll find out," the blonde woman said.
On cue, the radio started broadcasting a voice, "And now a short message from the city's emergency provisional government…"
O nodded, and silently pulled a chair out to sit on it, and looked at the broadcasting device.
"...Fellow Americans, this is Polis Telgrim, your emergency coordinator for this city. I just want to assure everyone about the shooting incident that occurred earlier today…"
The voice was measured, practiced, and assuring. A well of unease and despise rose in O listening to the man's voice.
"A group of some six to seven men raided the common goods store on Seventh Street. They were armed with handguns and shotguns, and killed two citizens of this city while attempting to steal food and necessities inside that were intended for the honest, decent people surviving our strange situation.
"Thankfully, trained officers of our emergency Security Bureau, and a member of the Special Team prevented the robbery from succeeding."
"He's going to say 'some' of the food was damaged, and not to worry," Felicity groused.
"Unfortunately, some of the supplies were damaged in the ensuing battle," Telgrim noted, promptly. "But we would like to assure Americans listening to this that the city's supply issues are not issues at all."
O doubted it, for some reason, lip quirking with displeasure. All that food wasted, because the wrong familiar was used for the job.
"What is a problem is the need to rebel against the greater majority. Because of this, people have been hurt, and maybe even killed, because others wanted food more than others. I must remind Americans that self-discipline and trust in the established emergency government is what will allow us to survive. I know many of you are worried about the progress the government expertise has made in trying to find a way for our people to defeat the dust storm, or the continued rationing we've been had to sustain.
"I want to assure all citizens that a special project I am personally overseeing is underway to confront this danger we face-"
O's eyes widened, and a sudden bolt of inspiration hit her. The dust storm, the shrinking city, the reason why she was here in the first place, that wanting she felt…
"-And if all goes well, we will obtain the power necessary to make it through these trying times. But only, only if we Americans remain resolute, and trust in each other, rather than turn to petty-"
"Turn it off," O coldly said. Felicity blinked and looked at her guest, and saw the amnesiac glaring at the radio, which she uneasily shut off.
"...He's lying," O simply said.
Felicity's expression went slack in shock.
"Are you sure?"
"He's speaking full of euphemisms. The project he's working on won't solve anything. He doesn't want this storm to end, for some reason. I don't have all the pieces yet, but I think I know what he is, what he does. He'll use up everyone in this city so he can get out last."
"...I fucking knew it! I knew everything was wrong!" Felicity snarled, and grabbed the radio with one hand, and held it up to glare at it.
"The dust storm's been eating up this city for almost a year! Telgrim kept promising he'd do something, and whenever anyone complained his fucking nazis knocked us down, leaving us to scramble for food and water. 'Security', I should have expected that doubletalk from him! Do you know what he's doing?"
O shook her head, "I don't know what he wants, but I know how he's probably doing it. It's why he has that giantess at his beck and call."
"That thing has been stomping any resistance flat," Felicity muttered. "There have been people trying to pull off an uprising for a while, but they can't fight against her."
"It's a familiar of some sort. Summoned via a ritual."
"Summoned?" Felicity said, eyebrow cocked, almost ready to doubt, before recognition flashed across her face. "What you did earlier… are you telling me that's-"
"It's called magecraft… I think. The memory is fragmented," O admitted, before raising her hand to show off her rings. "Polis Telgrim must be a magus of some sort. As am I."
