Chapter 2: Gold to Gray
I fell between lines, through selves, from madness, and out of slumber.
The sun burned with pure, raging light that left angry red echoes even when I closed my eyes to block it out.
Eventually, I began to adjust.
Cold ground, faint ocean breeze, and a throbbing headache greeted me.
A hollow growl thrummed from my stomach, and my mouth was harshly dry.
The world spun as I tried to sit up.
Where am I? What—
Gold light. Consuming control. A farewell to the world, given to the stars.
I was alive.
Why?
A shudder racked my body, straining against an all-encompassing soreness.
Why am I alive?!
I remembered dying… Choosing to die.
Foggy memories drifted to the surface. I had woken up in a hospital. Stayed only long enough to be able to leave… because I was worried about something. Enemies? Being attacked?
My own reasoning confused me, but I knew I had thought it. Different from the murky madness that was my passenger taking control.
That mindset… I could picture the details clearly, but they were off. Like watching a movie of what happened rather than living it.
Maybe Lisa or someone could figure it out.
Where was she? Or anyone, really?
There had been no guards at the hospital… Why? After what I did—
Oh god.
I forced myself into slow, hissed breaths, teeth clamped shut to hold in the building mania.
It was over. Everything was over.
Scion was gone, leaving only the wreckage of multiple worlds behind. I left behind thousands of people who I had used like puppets. Forced to fight, lambs to the slaughter, pawns to bait the enemy.
Those that survived would be left with the trauma of being enslaved, along with the memories of everyone that died around them, and the destruction of so many worlds.
I bit the inside of my cheek; the pain ripped me back to reality. Wandering thoughts would get me lost, and I wasn't sure I'd find my way back if I went after them.
I needed to get my bearings. Find out what had happened—no, find out why.
Hot agony rippled as I pushed myself up. I almost toppled to the side when I tried to use my missing arm.
My bugs raked claws and mandibles against brick and stone; an outlet for my—
Bugs?
Hundreds of little sparks; small touches, garbled noise, blurry vision. Far off sensations and information that were mine but not my own.
I tried to laugh but coughed instead.
My swarm was with me; the color to my painting.
That means you're here too, aren't you, passenger?
The shadows in the frame. My partner and parasite, still haunting me. Then again, we were both ghosts now.
I didn't feel anyone within my control, nothing humanoid or sentient.
It was so much more and so much less.
My eyes were wet and wiping them didn't clear the fog from my vision. Everything after a short distance was blurry. No glasses. I pulled out my mask and found one of its lenses gone while the other had small cracks around the edges. I wasn't sure why I had it tucked into my utility belt in the first place.
The thing was ripped and covered in dried blood.
Another breath, less strained and more freeing than before.
Whatever this was, I had a chance to get through it now.
"Maybe I can do this," I whispered, the words broken and raspy.
I froze. My secret prayer seemed to reverberate through the air.
"Maybe I can do this?" I tasted each sound and syllable as I repeated myself.
Then I did it again, and many more times after that.
Speech. Beautiful words.
I… I had spent the last couple of days listening in on conversations and echoing the words. So much of what had happened since I'd woken up was distant.
Now everything was catching up.
But can I read?
I frantically fished out the card I had gotten from the hospital.
'Dear Mysterious Stranger,
Please don't be dead. I really really really hope you get better and everything is okay. Hope you get better as soon as possible!
Best Wishes,
Ruby Rose'
The name was signed with a doodle of a rose next to it.
I sighed in relief, letting the card droop with my arm onto my stomach. I had struggled with a letter or two, connecting meaning to the various lines and shapes of the characters, but I could still make them out.
My powers and basic communication: two fundamentals I had thought lost.
I hadn't heard of a cape or person named Ruby Rose. I knew 'Ruby' and 'Rose' had both been cape names at one point, each used several times by many people, but this obviously wasn't any of them.
'P.S. My dad wishes you the best too!
P.P.S. My sis also wishes you a good recove—'
The word ended in a smudge of ink and a battleground of random, jagged lines and scribbles.
'My sis will be sad if you don't recover, so you'd better get out of there quick, otherwi—'
The handwriting was different; thicker, harder lines that were lazier than the clumsy-but-trying-to-be-pretty writing from before. Another sentence that ended in another smatter of pen strokes.
'P.P.P.S. Sorry about that. My sis just worries too much. She's a bit of a—'
If the two interrupted sentences had been a battle for which of the sisters got the pen, the rest of the space on the letter was the war. Half-finished sentences crossed out and then restarted, rushed, nonsensical doodles, and ink stains. A corner of the note had been soaked black from what I guessed was the pen breaking.
Under everything else, there was a small sentence written by a third party based on the more simplistic writing.
'Sorry about them. We wish you a speedy recovery. – Taiyang Xiao Long'
I read through the letter once more, then again. My relishing of each word for being able to understand them was slowly overrun by amusement for… whatever that was.
Whoever Ruby or Taiyang were, they cared enough to have left a get well card. Maybe they had found me? Brought me to the hospital? A sense of responsibility for the bleeding cripple?
I checked over the card again. It was nice to know that someone cared, even if they were just strangers. A small comfort. There was even a… a black and white corgi holding a sign. 'Don't paws on your recovery.' Lame.
Rachel would have liked it—
I clamped my eyes shut hard enough that it almost hurt.
Focus.
I breathed in for four seconds, held it for seven, and exhaled for eight. A calming exercise from therapy that had become instinctual at some point. I hadn't needed to consciously think about doing it for a long time.
The glow spread along with my calm, a blanket for my rising nerves.
It filled the air that touched my skin, a cloudlike gray that made you unsure if it was going to rain or not. I'd used it during my hospital stay. It made the pain go away, made me stronger.
I had torn through metal like wet paper with it.
No negative effects so far. Even now, I was soothed by it.
But what is it? Some side effect of whatever power healed me? Maybe a piece of tinkertech that they implanted in me? I wouldn't be surprised if they did that, but why a pain suppressor and strength enhancement rather than a bomb or something? It was too different to be some weird result from when I… From when…
From what I had become, in the end. That thing, that monster.
Something Contessa said itched in my mind. Out of everything, that conversation was painfully vivid. How she'd sat, trying to put together my thoughts into sentences, the bullets as they hit my skull.
'Skitter, Weaver, Khepri…' That was what she had said.
Khepri... it must be the title they gave me for what I became at the end.
A fitting name. I hated it.
Focus. Breathe.
In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.
The glow was helping, maybe. My current biggest concern was getting my bearings and supplies. In my addled state, I had been trying to live off of only a couple of stolen apples, so food and water were a priority.
I was in a city—a massive city based on the several-story tall wall that surrounded it. Even with my poor vision, I could see the structure stretching out along the horizon. Too big to miss.
The society was advanced, based on their technology. A drone of some kind was… gardening? It moved down a row of trees planted along a sidewalk, stopping only to pull a weed—which it stored in an opening on its midsection—or trim some of the branches when it saw fit.
Probably not my Earth…
I pushed past the implications of that.
Information first. Bugs brought a bottle of water and a small loaf of bread from a nearby house. The utensils and furniture in the surrounding houses were familiar, so I took some comfort there. Then, I had them gather in areas to listen in on the locals.
I didn't have to use the bathroom, which was a bad sign. There wasn't anything to relieve.
I forced myself to drink the water slowly. My stomach would reject a sudden rush of fluids after dehydration.
The bread was bland and tasteless. I devoured every crumb. After how careful I was with the water, the queasy rumbling from my navel felt like my body scolding me for letting hunger take over.
A quick sniff almost made my hair fall out. First, a shower or bath, then information. No one was going to talk to me like this.
Some signs around me had Braille, though all the street names were completely foreign. Some read like they were German, Spanish, and even some Japanese. A confusing mix that didn't help at all.
My glee at discovering I could read again returned as my bugs listened in on a television program; some silly show about doves melodramatically learning life lessons, a typical kid's show. Not only were the words in English, but I understood them too. I could still read and speak.
Hopefully, people speaking English meant that this world had to have developed similar to Earth Bet. I would have to look up and see where exactly the divergence in our timelines took place.
Don't think about that. Focus.
I didn't have any obvious injuries. I checked, prodding for bruises or cuts. Bruises, yes, or my whole body just felt like one.
There was also a metal casing around the end of my missing arm.
I rolled up my sleeve and examined it. I didn't know its purpose or function. There was no obvious tracker. It was slightly curved at the end, with small round metal domes running along the sides, all seamless.
There wasn't a clear way to get it to come off. A couple tugs told me that it was connected in such a way that I didn't want to try pulling harder.
They must have attached it when I was asleep. Maybe it's something for healing or injuries, to protect the tissue?
It wasn't obviously harmful, so there wasn't much use worrying about it, yet. I had more pressing issues.
I wasn't going to find out anything by just sitting here. There weren't that many people around for my bugs to listen to, and I'd already gotten my fill of their mundane day-to-day.
Bones creaked and muscles seized as I pushed through the pain. My arm shook and knees trembled, but eventually, I stood.
The world didn't spin, but merely tilted, as I took the first steps. Not dizzy enough to stop me.
I stuck to the alleys, hiding from any street cameras, or just covering them when needed.
The city was beautiful, unnervingly so.
The architecture sat somewhere between a London street and a New York Apartment complex. Alcoves, trimming, and fascia panels gave depth and design to the buildings; all pristine and colorful. Too colorful.
Everywhere I looked the colors popped against one another, like they were fighting for attention. It made Chicago look drab and Brockton look like a black and white film.
I turned a corner and noticed the blurry view that opened from the mouth of the alley. I slipped my mask on just enough so that the one good lens covered my eye, and gaped.
The city stood in all its glory. Pointed rooftops spiked from the endless stream of large buildings that spread beyond sight. Two monorail systems running above the houses circled and twined throughout the city. I could still make out spots where small gardens and trees had been given room to grow—a floral accent to the city's grandeur. Flying ships flew or hovered in the air—not planes or helicopters, but ships that screamed Tinkertech. Well, they probably weren't, based on the sheer volume I counted flying freely.
There were too many, and they weren't flying in military patterns. Commercial.
The city was definitely not something from Earth Bet or any other Earth I remembered seeing through Clairvoyant's power.
Meaning that I had been dropped on some isolated, unknown world.
Don't think about that right now.
One thing stood apart from it all, something that stole the prize for perfection in my eyes.
A river that snaked through the city.
Somewhere I could take a bath and maybe drink from, if it was fresh water.
The slight hill that offered the view added helpful momentum as I hobbled to the water. A gentle squeeze unclicked my utility belt and all my weapons dropped to the ground. I dropped my mask along with it.
I sucked in a breath and let myself fall into the icy waters without bothering to slow down. The cold woke me up and soothed my aches. Electric tingles danced along my maimed arm. I ran my hand through my hair as I simply let myself drift under the surface.
Calm, finally… I needed this.
A pressure slowly built in my lungs as they demanded air, but my world under the water kept me away.
Away from thoughts, and the guilt that came with them. A small bit of peace.
Then, my bugs tagged someone rushing toward where I was.
I broke the surface with a satisfying shower of water that washed down my face, only to meet the eyes of a young Asian man with dark yellow hair, a color that could only have come from dye but looked extremely natural. His clothes were oddly color-coordinated to match his hair. He held some kind of screen in his hand that he pocketed with a relieved sigh.
"Oh, thank goodness. I saw someone go into the river and not come back up immediately. You okay there, miss?" he asked with a friendly smile.
"Uh, yes, I'm fine." I coughed; my throat felt dry, and my voice was hoarse from disuse. "Just, taking a dip…" I paddled and found that having one less arm made the task more strenuous than I had anticipated. The riverbed was just far enough away to be awkward to try and walk along.
My bugs hid on the edge of roofs, in crevices, and behind corners, waiting to strike if he tried anything or went for my weapons.
I reached the banked shore and walked up. A slow squeeze down the length of my hair let water drain from it, leaving it wet but not soaking. I quickly reached down and grabbed my utility belt, fumbling with it until I figured out how to put it back on with one hand. My mask went back into a pouch.
The man held a reserved concern. My pitiful swimming probably had him ready to jump in after me at a moment's notice, and I was sure my belt display hadn't impressed him either.
"You sure you're okay?"
"Yes, I'm sure…" The scratchy words died in my throat as I noticed the view from over his shoulder.
Even through blurry vision, I could see a moon that crumbled from its center, little more than half of it still intact, hanging in the air despite it being midday.
Do the tides still work? Is this world just waiting for the broken sections of the moon to rain down and wipe everything off the face of the planet?!
"—ss? Miss?!"
"Huh?" I was startled back to reality as the man waved a hand in front of me, but my focus was drawn back to the moon.
"Are you really sure you're okay?" More concern and weight in his words.
"Yes, sorry. Just… noticed the moon." Is my vision worse than I realized? Is there something else in the sky?
"The moon? What about it?"
"Is… Is it broken…?" A sudden cringe broke my trance as the man's changing reactions confirmed my fears.
Friendly concern to concern to serious concern.
"I think something might be wrong with you, miss." It obviously wasn't something anyone could have missed. Damn it. "I'm just going to call someone to check and make sure you're feeling alright, okay?"
"No no, it's fine. I just get surprised by the sight every now and then." His disbelief was clear. No choice.
I bolted away and down an alley. I was still so tired, my steps heavy and muscles protesting. He called after me; I didn't look back.
Fuck. That was amateurish.
There were still too many unknowns. Who ran this city? Fascists? Cultists?
Even if this wasn't a dictatorship, I could get kicked out into the woods with whatever that monster thing was if they caught me without any documentation.
Before I decided on my next step, I needed information.
I wasn't sure which direction I was running toward, only that it was away from whatever authorities the man had called.
The slight incline that had given me my previous view had leveled out so that the buildings blocked everything.
It also became apparent that almost every building was several stories tall, at least. Every. One.
There was also no trash in sight, no graffiti, no signs of wear either. The city was taken care of, no detail spared.
It was… unnatural. I felt like there was a lack of character to the world, a missing history of age and storms weathered.
A dollhouse world where everything was manufactured to be perfect.
The air tasted slightly of salt, and the nostalgic smell grew as I continued running.
Houses and shops petered off to allow space for warehouses in what I guessed was the city's shipping area.
I didn't know how far was safe enough to get away, so I just kept going until my breaths became gasps and my body ached. I had gone so far, but the city was endless.
The run had left me lightheaded and heaving, soaked clothes weighing heavily against sweat-caked skin. Almost reflexively, the glow came to ease my pains. It even helped keep me warm.
My arm didn't hurt, but it throbbed like a missing memory. I caught myself thinking that I was leaning on a wall for support, the sensations were so lucid. The texture of the stonework, the cold surface slowly heating under my touch. Then, I noticed that my hand couldn't be touching the wall, because it wasn't there. I had just been holding my limb out.
It would be something to get used to.
I forced myself to walk so that my muscles wouldn't completely seize up from the exertion.
The shoes I had—oh, I had stolen these clothes, another reason for them to come after me, shit—were not meant for an active lifestyle. My feet throbbed angrily from pounding against the asphalt, the sensation of blisters already formed and popped stinging with each step.
I could see the coastline now, and along it, a giant shipping area. An island in the distance off the shore was barely highlighted by the setting sun.
Dad would have loved a place like this.
Large warehouses filled with crates and machines. Huge areas of shipping containers ready to be sorted or sent out. Space that looked like helipads—for the airships. Cranes ready by the docks to unload anything from ships to freighters, based on their size.
It wasn't visually impressive, but I knew that all of it meant that there was lots of available work for the people here.
Dad had been struggling with the docks for so long, especially after Leviathan, the Slaughterhouse Nine, and me… Here, he could have flourished.
I'd never know.
I had been too cowardly to check and see if he had died during Scion's rampage, or too broken to be able to take the news.
Now, I'd never get the chance to know. Never be able to try and make things better between us—beyond the phone calls and half-hearted conversations while I'd been in the Wards. An actual relationship.
Not like before Mom died but… something.
My bugs brought me a set of keys they found in one of the warehouses, and I grabbed it with shaking hands.
I might never know if Dad's even alive or not.
My breaths built and shuddered against my will with each exhale as I slipped into the warehouse. A place to rest for the day and hide from any authorities that might be searching for me.
Lisa. Rachel. Gone—
Stop. Don't think about it.
I threw my soaked clothes over a shelf to dry and grabbed what looked like a fancy safety jacket my bugs found in a locker. The glow let me rip the door open with ease.
Now, there was nothing to do but rest.
I sat at a desk and glanced over the papers on it. Shipping manifests. Nothing stood out except various shipments of 'Dust', whatever that was. No details or descriptions. Even the arrival location was abbreviated so I couldn't learn where I was.
Rest…
Time ticked on. My bugs spread out, but the local workers were heading home for the day, leaving me alone.
Nothing but me and… and my thoughts…
Brian. Aisha.
I sprung up from the chair and paced the warehouse. Everything was sealed in crates that were labeled. It was mostly furniture and art. 'V. to Mis.' was their destination and origin. Unhelpful.
Everyone.
Fuck.
There was nothing to do, to distract me.
"Stop… stop…" I begged my mind as it dragged me through all the things that were now gone. All the friends I had betrayed.
All the people I had controlled.
My body started to shake.
Everyone I would never see again.
A building pressure broke through my mental grip and poured down my cheeks.
I bent down and hugged my knees, instinctively rocking back and forth as everything came crashing down, no matter how hard I tried to keep it in.
The only silver lining was that I had held on long enough for everyone in the area to go home.
Tears built to sobs, and then to a single desperate scream.
I had lost everything.
Chapter 2 End
Author Notes:
Praise be to Juff, Breakingamber, Fwee, ccstat, Majigah, and Resonans2357 for making this pretty.
This fic will be rather introspective for Taylor. It's either a result of my writing or the story itself but just a heads-up.
