"You're home now," she said, trying to ease him. "Don't you remember this place?" She placed a hand on his neck, but the loyal Gear didn't heed to her. He stared out before he pulled away, leaving her to watch in awe as he limped across the clearing. The ground broke under his massive talons each step he took. He moved slowly and with a hobble of his back leg, but that didn't rob him of his grace.
He paused momentarily to glance at the cabin, then moved on a little further down where a few young trees grew separate from the haunted woods. There, he stopped and began to show a strange interest in them. He nosed and pawed at the hard ground until he tore it.
Something was up. If he could sense something, why couldn't she? Necro and Undine weren't even putting her on the alert.
She went to him while he continued to investigate the trees suspiciously. She heard him growling when she closed in on the Gear. He didn't acknowledge her presence, though, and slowly wove in and out of the tress, careful where he placed his feet. It looked like he could easily trip over his own front feet if he didn't pay attention.
Each movement seemed carefully planned. He looked like a predator on the hunt. But what was he hunting?
She moved closer, behind his tail, and that was when he snapped his head around. He snarled at her, but the sound quickly stopped once he noticed who he was growling at. His eyes widened and his ears went back.
"What are you do. . .oing?" She watched as he maneuvered his way between two trees. His slender body just made it through, and began to make his way back towards the cabin. This time, his pace was a little faster.
He paused by the front door, swinging his tail, and looked around. He looked like a dog trying to find a misplaced stick. His eyes went every which way, his head paused only a few times.
She watched him before she went up to him again, keeping in his line of vision rather than surprising him. He didn't seem too interested in her, though. He kept up his blind search for whatever he was looking for. His ears rotated. His eyes scanned feverishly. His teeth flashed while another growl rumbled lowly in his throat.
Did he remember what went on here?
She stood aside as he pulled his head up and looked at the broken window beside him. His mouth gaped slightly and snarled before he moved towards the front door. That snarl didn't stop.
She watched him move his muzzle up and down the face of the door as if he were eyeing it up before she dared herself to walk up behind him and place one hand upon his neck. She reached the other out and slowly swung the door open. Its hinges creaked until it stopped. "Here you go."
Gear-Ky's ears went up and watched the dim room unfold before him. He stood there a moment before he went inside, his head leveled and his tail following behind him. His claws clicked across the floor as he crossed it.
That had been a few hours ago, and Gear-Ky was home. She watched him as he laid by the roaring fire with his bird-like front legs extended out in front of him, his neck arched just so. His body seemed to glisten as the fire reflected off his black fur. He was absolutely beautiful. Powerful. Glowing. He stared into the fireplace, barely noticing her anymore.
Or so she thought.
"You're staring."
Dizzy blinked and sat up straight. There it was again. The voice. It was a whisper in her head, distorted like static, but this time, it was more clear, more louder. She had begun to hear it when she returned to the Mayship, but she didn't think anything of it. She was sorry she did now.
Then, Gear-Ky turned his head to her. "Why are you staring at me like that? Dizzy. . ."
It finally made sense. She suddenly jumped with her hands gripping the cushion under her. She nearly jumped out of her seat. Instead, she bounced. "Ky!" she cried.
His ears flicked back like a dog being caught in its own guilt. He didn't take his eyes off her.
"Is there something wrong?" the voice said.
"No!" she cried excitedly. "It's you! It was you! Ky, I can hear you!"
That wolf face of his seemed to grin. In fact, he was grinning. It was a proud sort of grin.
She then broke down into tears. "It's you! It is you!"
That night, she didn't think she would fall asleep, but she did. She expected to dream of the grove or some adventure with the Jellyfish Pirates, but this one was different. This dream she didn't like. She found herself lost in a maze of white. The walls were white, the floors were white. There were countless rooms. It reminded her of a hospital, but it wasn't. It was something more sinister.
Someone was following her. His shadow followed her through every corner while his footsteps thumped along after her—walking, never running after her, like the world was caught in slow motion. She never saw his face or any detail of him.
In the dream, she couldn't turn around to face him. All she could do was run. But she just couldn't get away, no matter where she went or how fast she ran.
He gained again, and he reached his shadowy hand out, grasping her by the shoulder. In his other hand, there as a strange instrument. A long, thin needle stuck out from the end of it. She pulled, wiggled and writhed.
She was powerless. There was nothing her Gear powers could do, not even Undine and Necro would respond to her. It was as if she wasn't a Gear at all.
She then screamed. She screamed herself awake, still thrashing and clawing until she noticed she was no longer in the white hallway but Ky's bedroom, Ky's secretive room. She held her chest and looked around. It wasn't long before she saw a red-eyed black wolf staring across at her from the other side of the bed. Only its head was resting on it.
"Dizzy, you were dreaming. What were you dreaming of?"
It wasn't a wolf. It was Gear-Ky.
She rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead and sat up. She drew the blanket closer and buried her nose against it a moment. It still held Ky's old scent. She missed his old scent.
"A man," she said, reminiscing. "And a place. I remember seeing rooms. The rooms looked like small lab. And there was a dark hallway with cells, like a prison has. It felt so real." She shook her head.
Gear-Ky then rose to his feet. "Dizzy, I will show you where I have been. I want you to tell me if this is the place in your dreams. Now, just hope I can remember the way back."
"You don't remember? Why's that?"
"I was following you. I heard you. . .calling for me."
They went by morning, which was only an hour's wait after Dizzy woke from her nightmare. Ky told her it would take at least two days of travel to get to their point of destination. She hoped he could remember the way clearly. The last thing she wanted happening was to get lost. Or run into humans. If they ever ran into any humans on the way—
She stumbled over something and blindly grabbed for the Gear beside her. She managed to grab a fistful of his mane and save herself from falling into the ground.
Noticing her near close encounter with the ground, he stopped and snaked his head around. "Are you alright?"
She secured both feet on the ground and looked down where a cluster of moss had gotten tangled against her boot. She carefully stepped out of the trap, with some of the vegetation making a snapping sound as she pulled. She then looked up at Gear-Ky, passing him a light grin. "I'm fine, thank you. I'm beginning to wish I told the crew where we're going. They would have brought a plane—"
His lips wrinkled back in a light sneer. "We walk, my dear. I walked through woods, hillsides and roads to find you. I will remember if I followed them again. Haven't you heard of instinct?"
"Yes," she timidly said. "It's what keeps us alive. Like when bears hibernate and birds migrate to the south."
"That's right," he said into her mind, and began to turn his head away. "Migrating birds."
"But birds also fly," she said, trying to insist a little more. But it didn't go easily through to him. He pinned his ears and bared his teeth at her. She saw nearly every one of them. He snarled at her while he said at the same time, "For God's sake, Dizzy!"
Startled, she let go of him and drew back. She backed up until she was stopped by a tree behind her. As she watched him, the wrinkles on his muzzle faded, covering most of this teeth again, except for those four terrifying sabers. The snarling quieted. His eyes softened as much as they could, while his ears remained pinned, but in a guilty way.
"Oh Dizzy, I'm sorry. . ."
She bowed her head and said, "No, you're right. We can go now."
Gear-Ky came closer. He curled around her and the tree, with his head and neck sticking out beside her like a snake about to whisper her a secret. "Dizzy, you will have to pardon my rage. We will go any way you want."
He was only saying it to please her. She pushed his head away gently and said, "We'll walk."
If he were human, he would have looked at her in a bewildered way, perhaps his lips twisted and his brows cocked. He managed to give her that look even as a Gear.
He stared at her long before he moved out from behind the tree and without much warning, slid his head between her legs at the knees and lifted. She lost her balance as he did this and gasped, prepared to hit the ground.
Was this his way of getting back at her for being a pain?
She grabbed for his mane again while the earth from under her moved. She slid down his neck until his shoulders stopped her. Her hands that held desperately onto his thick red mane saved her from falling off.
She looked around herself and on the ground below her. She was sitting on him like a strange and new type of steed.
After she was settled, he turned his head over to her and sent out, "Let's go."
And off they went. A strange pair, a strange quest.
"Kill it. Kill it. You've got to kill it."
A few days before, Officer Ky Kiske sat behind his desk (God awful thing), swamped in paperwork, trying reorganize things now that some were done or needed his attention. There were handwritten police reports set in is own words, other police reports, meeting reminders, letters from officials—
One officer slid into the room rushed for him. He barely noticed his arrival until he was at his side. When he began to pick his head up, the man grabbed him by the arm, squeezing his bicept.
"Sir, sir," the man said, shaking the arm he had taken. He was a tall brown-haired man, near Ky's height. He looked a few years older than him, possibly in this thirties. "Something came through the transmitter. It sounds urgent!"
Ky yanked his arm free. "What is it?" he asked calmly. He rubbed his sleeve where the man had grabbed him.
"It's a distress call. It came in a few minutes ago. Someone's under attack I think. We heard the word Gear."
Ky felt electricity run across his skin and his brows rose at that word.
"It's hard to hear," the man continued, "but you ought to come." He took Ky's arm again and pulled him to his feet, then bolted for the door. Ky stumbled at least two steps before he gained his balance and pulled himself free.
He followed him out the door and into the hallway. They wove their way down the corridors, with Ky nearly colliding into another officer. Thank God he was quick-footed.
The brown-haired officer lead him down a spiraling staircase. He leapt a few steps while they went down, down, down—until the man lead him to a door that read: Technical Team. The area where it was located looked more like an old garage. The floor was concrete.
The man who lead him here was panting by the time he went into the room. A small crowd inside turned their heads once Ky walked into the room. The room was eerily silent, but then:
"Come here and kill it. If I move, it'll kill me. I need to stay right here. It's killing, just killing."
He listened to the disembodied voice. He wasn't sure if it was male of female. It was drawn down to a whisper. It was the voice of the dying.
"I can hear it. It's coming closer."
Then, the small crowd parted, revealing a slender blonde boy sitting in front of a machine with headphones over his ears even though the sound was heard throughout the room. He wore gold-framed glasses. He was near Ky's age, perhaps a year or two younger.
"I can get communication with the caller," he said. "I'm receiving but I can't send anything. I don't understand. It's like all incoming frequencies are blocked. They haven't even told me where they are—"
The transmitter crackled. "It's in the room. It's all our fault. We should have left well alone. They did this. They opened a closed book." There was static for a few seconds before the voice began screaming. "GO AWAY! GO AWAY!"
The room went silent except the soft hum of the machines and computers and uneasy murmurs of the other officers.
After a moment, Ky looked around himself, watching a few pale and shocked faces before he looked at Chris, who was fiddling with the transmitter in front of him. But his attempts were pointless.
"Chris," Ky said, "Can you get communication back?"
"No, that's what I said. They called us. Everything was incoming."
Ky stared at him. "Find the original location. Please."
"I'll try," Chris whispered.
The room remained silent except for the ghostly static emitting from the transmitter.