The lights were too bright, even through his closed eyes. Everything seemed to hurt, particularly along the left side of his body and face. And there was an intense, unrelenting pressure on his stomach that made it hard to get a deep breath in.
Dustrielle slowly, tentatively, opened his eyes, and shut them again when the intense brightness made him nauseated. He groaned, too tired, too drained to move, to roll over, to even pull the covers up.
"D-Dustrielle… are you awake?"
Dustrielle winced, shaking his head, trying to will his dizziness away. "Yeah… yeah Brio… fuck… yep… give me a sec."
He gasped as the weight from his stomach suddenly lifted, moving up to his chest, until there he sensed something hovering mere inches from his face. He opened his eyes again, to find his field of vision occupied by some sort of green… cat… Its pink nose briefly brushed against Dustrielle's as its deep yellow eyes seemed to intensely scrutinize every slight movement in Dustrielle's face.
"Oh… what… are you some sort of mutant experiment, too?" He tried to clear his throat, as his voice was hoarse, quiet, and hollow.
"In a m-m-matter of speaking, I suppose I am."
Nathan's eyes went wide, and he exhaled deeply. "I… sorry Brio… I hadn't realized… well, I didn't expect your voice from… the cat…"
The cat grinned. "I thought Gin had… had… told you about my t-transformations."
"Yeah… but I was assuming… useful stuff… like… I dunno… bears… or… Jesus, everything hurts…"
The cat stretched, its tail moving from side to side.
"I'll have you know, cats c-can be very useful. Small, underestimated, quick… quick… quick on their feet, wonderful balance-"
"Brio, why are you a cat now?"
The cat stopped moving and tilted its head, pausing for a few seconds
"... I don't know if this should j-just be the two of us, but Cortex… gave us all a few weeks off b-because of the bandicoot attack. He went off to Aruba. We're all still ssstaying here. Bastard. Our best theory for why Crash came over is that some of the m-mutants might have b-b-been a bit… conspicuous when coming to and leaving the castle-"
"Conspicuous, huh? So was it Tiny or Dingodile?"
Brio sighed. "… I don't want to assign blame… but it was probably one of them. Neither are exactly stealthy. Or subtle.. Might have made the bandicoots a bit sssuspicious to see one, or both, near our castle. Typically, Crash and his friends leave us alone unless they think we're d-doing something. Right after your fight, he sniffed…sniffed around for a while. My gu-gu-guess is that he didn't find anything he thought worth investigating. Makes sense. We're still in early stages."
The cat moved down to Dustrielle's right arm, resting near his elbow. Dustrielle finally found himself to look around a little, though drastic movement still left a sharp aching in his shoulders, chest and arms.
Stark white walls were nothing new to him, but they were a colder clinical tile than even his lab. And he spotted, across the room, a screen. A screen with "Dr. N. Dustrielle" written on it, with several charts and sensors, monitoring his vitals.
Dustrielle felt heavy, sour, spit climb up his throat, both from the pain in his body and a deep and growing sense of dread. His words were barely audible.
"Brio… how bad is it?"
The cat said nothing for many agonizing seconds.
"Why d-don't I go get Gin? He's been worried sick. Cats are rather healing, right? And I'll be stuck like this for the n-next eighteen hours. You're welcome. So, getting the g-gang all here might help sssoothe Gin's anxieties and help your rest. Two for one d-d-deal."
Dustrielle narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth.
"Brio…"
"You're not dying, if th-that's the question."
"It isn't… Brio…"
"I'll be rrright back."
Before Dustrielle could say another word, the cat leapt off the bed and scampered away. Dustrielle groaned and rolled his eyes. He tried to turn his head completely to the right, towards the door the cat just went through, but there was an intense searing pain on the left side of his face and neck, in particular.
He heard heavy, quick footsteps coming from the hall, almost sounding like the person was sprinting.
A few seconds later, the Brio-cat returned, with Gin following behind him, fidgeting with his gauntlet, eye wide, and body shivering.
"Dustrielle!"
Gin grabbed a folding chair that was stored behind the open door and walked over to the right side of the bed. He unfolded the chair, nearly dropping it with the intensity of his movement, and sat down, leaning towards Dustrielle. Brio-cat hopped back up onto the bed, nestling himself in the crook between Dustrielle's armpit and chest, purring lightly, then stopping, looking around. Dustrielle didn't think that a cat could look self-conscious before now.
He tried to smile, making a weak, unsuccessful attempt.
"Hi Gin. According to Brio, I'm alive."
"I said you w-weren't dying."
"Yeah, okay… Gin… you tell me… how bad is it?"
Gin looked to Brio, lips pulled tight, the color quickly draining from his face.
"I…Brio…?"
The cat sighed, ears dropping slightly. It closed its eyes for a couple of seconds, then opened them again.
"Yeah. Let's show him. B-better to rip the band-aid off."
Dustrielle snorted and winced from the effort. "Oh… come on… if it's just a band-aid, go right ahead. I'm man enough… I can take it…"
But he knew that whatever had happened, it wasn't something covered merely by a band-aid. He knew it. And the dread and terror made his stomach turn,
churn, boil and bubble.
Gin nodded slowly, frowning, before walking over to the nearest wall cabinet and pulling out a small, handheld mirror. He walked back over to the bed, leaning over Dustrielle's body.
"Can you turn your head? Look at your left side?"
Dustrielle sighed, taking a deep breath, mentally steeling himself. "Probably. It'll hurt though."
Gin leaned back, reaching over to put the mirror down onto the bedside table. "We… we don't have to do this right now. It's okay, we can wait, that's fine!"
His words were quick, rambling, and he was waving around with the hand not holding the mirror.
Dustrielle shook his head. "No… no… it's fine. We're doing this. Just let me… owww."
He groaned and gasped as he turned his head, closing his eyes from the pain. He finally managed to settle himself into a comfortable spot and opened his eyes.
His left arm had an IV in it, and as his eyes crept down the arm, he thought that his vision must have been damaged. Or maybe his occipital lobe had been bashed. Or maybe he was just losing his marbles. Because he couldn't seem to find his… left… hand…
No…no…no…
His arm ended at the wrist.
It was stitched up, rather well actually, and it seemed completely sterile. He might have given his compliments to the Lab Assistant who did it, if he wasn't too busy trying to comprehend the incomprehensible.
He gulped as the memory came flooding back: accidentally resting his left hand into the pile of acid. It must've dissolved his hand, or severely damaged it to the point of requiring amputation. He knew that he'd been lucky, that he'd managed to find the water puddle, or the damage could've been worse, if not fatal.
But he had no words. How could he have words?
Gin watched his face, frowned, and sighed.
"I know. I know. Trust me… I know. But… oh God, I hate saying this… but there is one other thing. You want me to wait until-?"
"Show me."
Dustrielle's words were short, quiet, and clipped.
Gin's lips trembled as he held the mirror up in front of Dustrielle's face.
The right side of Dustrielle's face was intact… the left side, however…
"The trash p-pile was still w-w-waterlogged, where your face had landed. We think it… it… diluted the acid significantly…"
The left side of his face was heavily bandaged, and though the full extent of the damage wasn't visible, based on the small edges of skin that peeked out from behind the dressings, it wasn't good. There would be some prominent permanent scarring, at the very least.
If he had the energy to do so, Dustrielle would've punched the mirror. But instead, he took several deep wavering breaths, turning his head back to the original position, and stared straight at the ceiling. He didn't say a word, and neither did Gin nor Brio, though the cat did snuggle deeper into Dustrielle's armpit, purring. But the purring, this time, seemed deliberate. Cats were healing, after all. At least, according to Brio.
But Dustrielle didn't want to heal. He wanted to go back in time, and tell his past self to flee, to get out of the way, or at least to not to use that acid.
Gin held his face in his hands for a few seconds, hyperventilating, before composing himself, setting his face in a stony expression. Dustrielle wondered why he was acting like that. He wasn't the one that had gotten into that… losing… fight.
He fiddled with his gauntlet, almost unconsciously, and gave a weak, wavering, unsteady smile.
"I… hey… it… could be worse… I guess… I mean… I'm great with prosthetics, look at mine… we can come up with… design… something cool. Maybe even better than what you had… we can design it together… it'll… it'll…"
He was shaking as he rambled, clearly stalling for time, as if he was trying desperately to think of other words… or to hide something… but from who, Dustrielle couldn't say.
Dustrielle felt the revulsion from the reveal mix with a deep-rooted anger, blended from everything from Cortex, to the bandicoot, to the mask, to his situation. He opened his eyes, and opened his mouth to yell, to tell Gin to shut up and let him be sad about his life being completely upended.
But he caught his breath before he exhaled, as he looked at Gin's face. More specifically… the half covered in metal, and the metal gauntlet, that was still twitching.
Dustrielle felt his heart stop as several lines of thought ran through his mind at once. But the most prominent of all: How could he have the gall to claim that losing a hand and having half of his face completely scarred would ruin his life forever… especially if he were to say that as he looked straight at Gin?
And with Gin's right side being his damaged one, and Nathan's left side being his affected one… it was like he was staring into a mirror.
He felt his body grow rigid, and the color drain from his face. He closed his mouth and said nothing, the corner of his lip trembling. Gin's face went beetroot red, smoke pouring out of the rocket heavier than Dustrielle had ever seen, like a thick, coating, all-consuming smog. He looked down, shuffling his heel on the ground as Nathan wrinkled his nose.
.
"I'm… sorry… I… I shouldn't have said… oh… oh no... just… I…"
Brio got up from his position in Nathan's armpit and tiptoed gingerly down his right arm towards Gin.
"I think, Dustrielle, that we might… might need to let you rest up a bit. I know what it's like to b-b-be injured… believe me… we all do… and rest does… does… does the body best. Do you mind if we leave for a l-little-?"
"No." He didn't care if the word came out too quickly or preemptively. He was too tired and too drained to care.
Gin reached out and picked Brio-cat up, as if grabbing a life preserver. Brio-cat's face briefly broke into a sour look, probably disgusted at being carried like that, but Gin started to pet the cat with shaking hands. Brio's face softened and relaxed a bit. The two shared a look, and Brio-cat nodded. Dustrielle didn't know if they were communicating silently or just reassuring each other about everyone's presence, but Gin walked towards the door, looking back briefly.
"Are you… going to be asleep soon… or…?"
Dustrielle sighed. "I don't know either."
Gin nodded. "Okay, just wanted to not… disturb… never mind."
He left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Dustrielle waited for the steps outside of the room to completely fade out of earshot before he yelled, louder and longer lasting than he ever had in his life. Not merely in pain, but in anger, fear, humiliation, confusion, and simply needing the boiling in his body to release. It wasn't like he had a rocket to blow steam from, after all.
He leaned back down as he finished his outburst, gasping, coughing briefly, before sniffing up some mucus that had built up in his nose from the effort. His eyes idly wandered around the room and spotted a television remote on the bedside table on his right side. He deduced that it must've gone to the other screen on the wall in front of him, and he wanted… needed… something to distract him, or to take the edge off. But the remote was just out of reach, and as he attempted to stretch, the effort and aching made him give up on his quest before long.
A bright, glowing light shone in front of the bed, near the wall, and for a second, Dustrielle thought that somehow he'd telekinetically turned on the television. But the light became a blue flash, and N. Tropy stood, spine straight, arms behind back.
Dustrielle narrowed his eyes slightly. "What do you want?"
Tropy raised an eyebrow. "Has it become a crime to visit an associate, Doctor?"
Dustrielle sighed. "The law hasn't stopped us before. I'll assume you heard what happened?"
Tropy nodded. "Of course, the team briefed me on it. Though I must say, that shout of yours just now would have alerted me, regardless. Why, I'm sure some of my fifteenth century colleagues must have heard it."
He smirked, clearly considering what he just said to be some sort of joke. Dustrielle didn't laugh. He just sighed and rolled his eyes.
Tropy walked over to the folding chair and slowly sat down, though turning it so that he faced the same wall Dustrielle faced, eyeing Dustrielle from the corner of his eye.
"How kind of our coworkers to… save me a seat…"
Dustrielle tightened his lips, but exhaled in a slow, deep hum.
"I suppose they did." He intentionally kept his words and expression neutral and noncommittal.
Tropy nodded. "Gin tried to prevent me from having this little visit. He didn't know if you were asleep, and didn't want me to take that risk. I assured him that if you were, I wouldn't disturb you. I would think he'd be angry at me if he wasn't busy being… well… how should I put this…? Angry at himself?"
Dustrielle raised an eyebrow. "Beg your pardon?"
Tropy shook his head and sighed. "I tried to reassure him that the incident was not his fault, his design wasn't to blame. It was merely - "
"Me."
Tropy turned towards Dustrielle and narrowed his eyes. "I beg your pardon?"
Dustrielle stared straight at the ceiling, not seeing a single shadow of Tropy's blue silhouette, even out of the corner of his eye.
"I picked the fight, didn't I? I lost it, didn't I? I thought trying that acid was a good idea, didn't I? It's me… and can you do me a favor and get Gin here so I can tell him-?"
"I already told him it wasn't his fault. Did I not just say that?"
"Sorry, Doctor, but I've usually found your words to be less than helpful. I don't know how Gin and Brio feel, but forgive me if I don't exactly believe you. Or get the warm fuzzies."
"Well, I suppose then, I might as well not remind you that this wasn't your fault either."
Dustrielle knit his brow. "Wha- I thought we just went through -?"
"If that vermin hadn't stuck his nose where it didn't belong, we wouldn't be here now, would we? For a bandicoot with a spirit that claims to 'protect life', it sure was rather willing to attack you based on something with less evidence than even a hunch. And what would you have done, not defend our base? Preposterous, Cortex would've made mincemeat out of you if you hadn't made that attempt. Why, I think you might have helped deter him from exploring too
deeply. I think Uka Uka owes you a commendation, don't you?"
Dustrielle didn't say anything, merely processing what Tropy had said. Tropy's verbal jabs had certainly lessened considerably as Dustrielle had gotten more ingratiated into the team, but this was something else entirely. Something… well, he hesitated to use the word positive, but…
Tropy turned back towards the wall, staring for a few seconds.
"You don't believe me?" His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
Dustrielle didn't respond, still staring straight up at the ceiling.
Tropy nodded. "Of course… I understand…We got off on the wrong foot, I suppose. I have a natural predisposition to doubt any creature that Cortex wholeheartedly endorses, but of course, first impressions are lasting ones. I, well, understand your mutual disbelief. Nevertheless, I intend to stay out the rest of this visit as I'd planned. But… if you'd prefer I keep my mouth shut, I'll honor that request."
Dustrielle still said nothing, and he heard Tropy exhale heavily, still staring at the wall. But as he looked out the corner of his eye, Dustrielle caught a glimpse of Tropy's face. It appeared calm and neutral, but Dustrielle could've sworn that he could hear gears turning in Tropy's head, as if he was deep in thought, or psyching himself up, or -
Tropy made a small mumbling sound, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, and his lip trembled. Dustrielle himself nearly gasped, startled by the noise. It was something that he'd heard from a few people in his life, but never from Tropy.
Tropy squeezed his eyes shut and stood up, turning towards Dustrielle. He silently reached up with his right hand and fiddled with something on his left shoulder. At first, Dustrielle wondered if Tropy had an itch or something, but several popping sounds interrupted the thought. Then, the sight of Tropy's entire left arm coming off of his shoulder firmly buried the thought. As Tropy placed the arm on the bedside table, he sat down next to Dustrielle again, still looking at the wall, knitting his brow.
Dustrielle stared at Tropy's exposed shoulder, then at his arm, then back at Tropy. Gin's prosthetic was obvious, something that stood out, something that anyone could tell wasn't his actual hand. But Tropy's? Dustrielle had assumed the metal looking gauntlet with the clock was just a part of the armor, and the hand looked convincing enough, as if a normal one that just had a black glove on.
None of us have escaped that bandicoot unscathed.
The two remained silent for nearly a minute, the silence only punctuated by a bit of coughing from Dustrielle and the deep, wheezing, vulnerable breathing from Tropy.
Finally, Dustrielle cleared his throat. "How did that happen?"
"Gin built it."
"No, I mean, how did the arm-?"
"It wasn't from the bandicoot. Not exactly, anyway. Aku Aku has always been the sworn enemy of Uka Uka, of course. I worked with Uka Uka, strictly alone, prior to working in partnership with Cortex and the others. Uka Uka had ordered me to retrieve an artifact that would help power a project we'd been working on. This was before Cortex's idiocy released Uka Uka from his prison, so our goal was to open a wormhole powerful enough to essentially teleport Uka Uka, a literal god, out. Teleporting, or journeying through time, for someone like you or me is much more simple. Relatively speaking, of course."
As he told his tale, he didn't move his face or eyes away from the wall, and his voice remained monotone, as if he needed to separate himself from the story.
"So, of course, I went on my journey and located the artifact. I was moments from retrieving it… and then that Aku Aku located me. I… was younger… less experienced… able to travel through time, yet didn't exactly have much in the way of battle tactics. So I decided to simply outmaneuver him, whisk myself to a different point in time, but in the same location. Even if he could follow me, I could still take us to turf that I'd be better equipped to fight on.
As I was activating my time machine, Aku Aku shot some sort of energy beam at me. The time machine also functions as my armor, so I wasn't hurt. Not by that blast, anyway. But it caused the time portal to close before I'd been ready. Let's just say that my left arm is most likely currently resting somewhere around 17th century Romania. And the rest of me is here."
He turned to Dustrielle. "So, you understand, then, why I wanted to visit? And be here…" He briefly glanced at his arm on the table. "...without the entire audience?"
Dustrielle was still processing Tropy's tale. For the first time since he'd met Tropy, he wanted to believe him. And that story… in many ways… sounded strikingly similar to Dustrielle's own recent encounter.
In fact, especially today, of all days, it was really hard to not see himself in… everyone.
And logic dictated, of course, that the inverse must also be true.
Something Cortex had told him during the initial onboarding session flashed through his memories: You might well encounter him face to face someday, and then you will understand what it's like to face him in battle. You will understand, at your very core, what it means to be a Cortex Commando.
He turned to Tropy and swallowed deeply. "I… thank you… for trusting me with that… thanks…"
Tropy shook his hand. "No, the others already know about it… you're not anything special in that regard."
Dustrielle saw Tropy's lips curl, just short of a smile.
"Besides, don't thank me for the lack of arm. Thank Aku Aku. We'll be giving him and his allies the most spectacular and powerful thank you present soon enough, won't we?"
Dustrielle grinned, the first time he'd heartily smiled since the morning before he'd measured the moat.
Tropy stood up and reattached his arm to his shoulder, grabbing the remote and tossing it to Dustrielle.
"Go catch up on the cartoons, or whatever it is that idiots like you do to pass the time."
Dustrielle narrowed his eyes and smirked. "And you go lose your other arm."
Tropy raised his eyebrow and cackled for a couple of seconds. "No promises. And likewise."
Another shining flash of blue light, and Tropy was no longer in the room. For the first time since the moat, his mind was whirring. Not just processing the story or the events or his lack of arm, but planning, plotting, and calculating.
Because he had just been struck with a few ideas on how to make his new hand a particularly useful, intimidating, and effective one. And after he'd get a few hours of sleep, if he was not in too much pain or too dizzy, he'd see if Gin wanted to start sketching something out.
First and foremost, I'm so honored that every one of you has stuck with this fic as long as it has. I really only started writing this as the win-win of creative expression and as self-insert escapism, so it's surprised me that some people have liked it!
Consider this the end of the "Origin Story" arc, if you will, but this isn't the end! I do still have a lot of things I want to write/explore.
Once again: thank you, thank you and thank you! Have a gloriously evil day!