Old Scars

Recruit 273 woke to a deep pain spreading along her body. She winced, rolling her head painfully to one side. Everything hurt, every move, every breath. She pushed out her hands, and managed to get into a sitting position. Avo. What had happened? She stretched out her neck and the collar spiked against her back, painfully. She grimaced, putting a hand under the metal. Her skin was raw. She'd certainly been disobeying, whatever she had been doing.

She sat herself up properly, propping her back against a wall behind her. She looked around. She was in the Centre. The Healing Centre. Doc's, as the recruits called it. She frowned and glanced herself over. There was a new bandage tied tightly around her left forearm, and another around her chest, crossing just underneath the left side of her collarbone, above her bra. She yanked the bandage off, quickly, and inspected the flesh underneath. What the hell..? The old, circular scar was now surrounded by fresher cuts, healing but still visible, rings, three of them, circling the scar. What... where had they come from? She let a finger move over the rings, following them, and then down to the scar in the middle.

Bull's eye.

She shook her head, firmly, deciding to move her bedraggled mind onto something else, turning to the next bandage, rolling it down. The cuts here had healed well. There was only the faintest lines visible, forming one word.

"Good morning."


273 started, flinching back against the wall. She swore violently under her breath as the cuts on her shoulder twisted, painfully, and then looked around the room, quickly. A guard was sitting in the far corner, his face shrouded in shadow.

Amateur dramatics, anyone? She thought, scathingly.

"What's going on." She asked, slowly, "How did I get here."

"You don't remember?"

"No." She paused for a moment. His voice... It sounded so familiar... She looked at the shadow, gathering her breath, "Commandant?"

She could sense a smile, "Not quite."

The man got up and walked towards her.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart fluttered. Then she shook her head, slowly, "Another of Lucien's failed experiments, I see." She said, flatly, her skin tingling slightly at the sight of him, "How many of you are there."

"As many as needed."

She looked him over. His cracked, fractured skin was dark, almost black, but other than that, he could have been the Commandant's twin. He looked so similar. No. Familiar.

No. Wait. Hang on a second... She looked at him, frowning slightly, her eyes moving over his fractured skin and black clothing. She was sure she just... Was he... familiar?

No. It's just him looking like the Commandant. You don't know him.

She nodded, slowly. Then she shook her head again, "How long have I been here?"

He tilted his head slightly to one side in a sort of half-shrug, "Two weeks?"

"Two... two weeks? What's... what's going on?"

He shook his head, immediately, "I'll let the Commandant explain it."

She nodded, slowly. But he was still watching her, closely. She glanced at him, expectantly, and then shook her head, "What."

"It's just..." he paused, looking at her, taking a few steps forwards so he could read her reaction, "You really don't remember what happened?"

Familiar?

"No."

Bull's eye.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

You remember.

She shook her head, firmly, ridding herself of the scattered words in her head. They made no sense. This thing standing in front of her, this hybrid... she'd never seen him before. So why did she feel like she recognised him? Déjà vu. That was it. That must be it. Just déjà vu. It would go after a while.

The Commandant walked through the door, shattering her previous thoughts. She looked at him, sharply, her body tensing reflexively. He began to walk over to her, but the second hybrid took him by the arm, pulling him a few steps away and whispering something in his ear. The Commandant nodded, thoughtfully, responded, and then moved closer.

He stopped beside the table she was sitting on, looking at her, "Good morning 273."

"Sir." She replied, warily.

He watched her for a second, and then shook his head, "I've heard you have no memory of why you're here."

"Yes, sir."

"Any ideas?"

"No, sir."

"What do you last remember?"

She thought about it.

This is why you can disobey... Y'know, the funny thing is, I don't even need the collar.

She shook her head, firmly, "I don't... I don't know. How did I get here."

"You were taken down with a fever." He replied, slowly, "Delirious. Slicing away at your arm with a blade."

Blade.

She shook her head again, trying to stop the strange, scattered thoughts. Then she looked down at her arm. She traced the scars again. She looked up at him, nodding at her arm, "This? This is what I did?"

"Yes."

"Rose..." she looked at the writing, thoughtfully. It rang a bell.

The Commandant watched her, "Do you know who that is?"

A gunshot - bang! - another, back through the window - smash! - silence.

She shook her head, slowly, "No idea."

He paused, eyes locked on hers, as if gauging her honesty. Then he nodded, slowly, "Right." He paused again, and then shook his head, "Construction of the upper tier begins tomorrow. We are very near to our goal."

She nodded, absently. That was good.

"But the man guarding the site is overdue reporting in. Guard 239. We cannot have disobedience. Find out what's happened." He tilted his head slightly to one side, thoughtfully, "You can consider this a chance to redeem yourself."

273 nodded again. Redeeming herself. That would be a good idea.

"If you find the man in dereliction of duty... escort him to the torture chamber and await further orders."

She winced, inwardly, making sure no sign of her discomfort showed on the outside. She hated the torture chamber. Poor guy. But she had been given an order. She would have to fulfil it.

The Commandant looked at her, "Is that understood?"

She nodded, slowly, getting to her feet, "Yes, sir."

Her clean guard shirt was on a chair next to her, so she slid it on, tucking it in, neatly, finding her jacket underneath and pulling that over her arms and buttoning it. She took her gloves out of the pockets and pulled them on. It was cold on the outside of the Spire. She'd need the warmth.

She stretched out her shoulders, ignoring the faint pain along the cuts, cricking her neck. Then she moved past the Commandant and his hybrid friend and out of the door. She didn't have much time.


After a few questions, she had managed to get a rough idea of where the missing guard had got to. A few officers had seen him going towards the west side a few hours before, but hadn't seen him since. One of the officers gave her a strange look when she stopped them. When she had gone, he turned to his comrades and started up a frantic, whispered conversation. About Guard 239? No. About her? Maybe. Didn't really matter. She had a job to do.

The fact that 239 had gone to the west side surprised her. Construction had long since finished there; the whole side was completely empty. She looked around her as she stepped out the door. No-one.

She hesitated, thinking about the likelihood of him still being here, and then sighed, wearily, and kept moving, going further out. She'd told the guard on the door that she'd only be a few moments looking, but if she had come out this early he would have known she hadn't searched thoroughly, and would have surely reported her to the Commandant for dereliction of duty.

273 moved all the way to the very edge of the Spire, searching for the AWOL guard for a good twenty minutes. Then she shook her head again, and turned, heading back to the door. Maybe the guards were mistaken, maybe they had seen someone else heading this way. She'd check the barracks; maybe he'd gone back there.

Something caught her eye.

She stopped, frowning. Then she crouched down, running a finger along the floor and then holding it up for her to see. Blood. She looked up. There was more, a few feet away. Splatters, like a trail. She followed it, working her way on her hands and knees. It led into another room, a previous barracks when this side was populated. In the far corner was a body.

Recruit 273 moved over to it, slowly. She put a hand out to the man's neck, checking his pulse. Nothing. She gave a low sigh, crouching back on her haunches. Guard 239. Well. At least he wouldn't have to face his punishment now.

"We meet again, Hero."


273 spun round, automatically getting to her feet. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. "Who's there?"

The man took a step towards her, putting himself into the light, "It's alright. It's me."

Her eyes moved over him, warily. He was tall and dark-skinned, with greying hair pulled back on his head. His accent had been thick, something she couldn't quite place.

She shook her head, slowly, "Who are you."

He paused, frowning slightly, and then let out a slow almost sad sigh, "Ah. So they have got to you then. I had feared this, Blade."

"What did you call me?"

He sighed again. Then he shook his head, "Your collar has restricted you. You are a Hero from Albion. You came to rescue me."

"Rescue you." She repeated, her voice not sceptical or mocking, merely completely confused.

"Yes." He replied, simply, "We've spoken many times since you first came here, but never in full. You told me you came here to save me."

"We've spoken before?"

"Yes."

She looked at him for a second. A sudden dose of desperation had hit her, a thick need, and she was struggling to keep herself calm, "Did we... did we talk about... about the outside? About what's out there? Do you... Do you know..." she dragged off her jacket and yanked up her sleeve, exposing the recent scars, "Do you know what this means? This word? What it means?"

He looked at it, frowning slightly. He put a gentle hand on her skin, running a finger over the marks. He glanced up at her, "You did this?"

"Yes. Do you know what it means?"

He looked at her for a second. Understanding seemed to pass over him. "Rose." He said, quietly, "Rose Marie. It's the name of your daughter."

Her heart sunk. "I... I have a daughter?"

"Yes. You left your family behind to come here. And now we need to get out."

"We're getting out?" she asked, immediately, looking at him, "How?"

"There's only one way off this place. The docks. We need to get to a boat."

She shook her head, slowly, "We'll never get within a hundred miles, recruits aren't allowed down there, especially not imprisoned Will-using recruits."

"I know. We'll have to fight our way there."

She looked at him, then shook her head again, "I... I can't fight them."

"I know. You're no good to either of us with that collar on."

"But... how do I get it off?"

He paused, looking at her, "This is going to hurt."

She frowned, "What is?"

Lightning flew at her, hitting the collar smack on, sending horrific, splintering pain straight through her. She fell to the floor, her hands grabbing at her throat, unable to breathe, unable to think, only aware of the pain, the pain jolting through her.

The world outside these marvellous walls is a corrupt, rotting husk. Reason is absent. Instead of order... there is chaos.

"Stay still. I'm sorry. It will be over soon. Don't fight it."

Chaos does not punish evil, or reward righteousness. Chaos cuts innocent lives short, and we are to accept this as fate. I beg to differ.

Pain burned through her and she yanked at her collar, trying to pull it off, feeling blood start to trickle down over her fingers as she reopened a once-healed sore.

And as long as your heart continues to beat... all I require of you... is obedience.

Places. Grew up in Bowerstone Old Town. Bowerstone Old Town, Bowerstone Cemetery, Bowerstone Market, the clock tower, Fairfax Castle, the archaeology site - Belle - the Gargoyle's Trove. Then I moved to Bower Lake, the gypsy camp, Heroes' Hill, the caves, the caves I used to explore as a child, the lake, picnics with Rose Marie, oh Avo, Rose Marie, Mattie, Michael.

Oakfield, the Temple of Light, Westcliff... Rookridge, the Temple of Shadows... Brightwood, Brightwood Tower... the Bandit Coast... the Crucible...

273 shook her head, violently, tears streaming down her cheeks, her fingers on her right hand aching like hell as she yanked at the metal cage, pulling at it, feeling so dizzy, like she was going to pass out, constant messages of pain assaulting her senses.

Rose.

There was a click, a loud, resounding click, and her collar fell to the floor.


273 raised a shaking hand to her neck. She winced, feeling the open cuts, the hundreds of wounds opened and reopened over the years.

Then she raised her head. Garth stood in front of her. Garth. She knew his name.

"Garth." Her voice was small, weak, trembling. She stumbled to her feet, eyes locked on his. She stared at him for a moment. Then she shook her head and ran to him, dragging him down into a hug, "Avo it's good to see you!"

He stood still, completely surprised, shaking his head and struggling weakly against her grip, "Whoa, whoa, let me down."

She shook her head, "Not a chance!"

She gripped the back of his head and pulled him down again, "It's good to hear you properly, too. All that Will stuff was doing my head in." She glanced at her arm, and then disentangled herself from him, slowly, "And, speaking of Will stuff..."

Thin blue lines spiralled across her skin, moving right up to her sleeves, across her neck, tattooing her pure skin for the first time in so many years. She flexed her fingers, and then experimentally flicked her wrist. A small fireball appeared above her hand, glowing, easily lighting the small room.

She watched it for a second, smiling, slowly, and then hurled it away from her, watching it shoot out to sea. She drew in a slow, deep breath, feeling a long-unused power seep through her veins, "God, it's been ages since I last did that."

"How does it feel?"

"Oh, just... amazing."

Garth smiled at her, slowly, "Welcome back, Blade."

She glanced at him. Blade. She shook her head, slowly, "Garth. They've taken something from me. They... the collar... but I can't remember."

"You'll remember it eventually. But now we have to leave."

She nodded, slowly. She turned back to the dead guard and quickly relieved him of his weapons, searching through his jacket until she found a few health potions. She pocketed them, and then turned, sliding the pistol into a holster on her belt and then, as an afterthought, picking up the broken collar and sliding that in too. A reminder for when she left this place.

She looked back at the sword - a rather mediocre Steel Cutlass - and shook her head, "Can't wait 'til I get mine back."

"You remember your blade?" he asked, swiftly.

She shook her head again, "Not really. Just know it's gotta be better than this one." Then her eyes moved back to him, looking him over, cautiously. He looked... tired. Weak.

"Can you walk?" she asked, slowly.

He gave a grim nod, "I can travel. But it took me years to focus enough Will to destroy our collars - and that guard. I've got nothing left. So when trouble comes... it's up to you."

She nodded, slowly, smiling slightly lopsidedly, "You really are astonishing. I didn't even think it was possible. I mean... I know Will. But I'm not you. Nowhere near. Lucien was a fool to think he could contain you."

The man shook his head and muttered a curse in a language she didn't understand, "Oh, Lucien..."

"Don't worry about him. Maybe not today, but one day... I'll take him down."

"Leave that to me."

"No. Believe me. The pleasure will be mine." She looked back at her arm, the cuts in it, feeling an old, dark anger rise inside of her, "It's not Rose Marie. It's just Rose. Just my Rose." She paused, and then rolled the sleeve back down, "If they thought they could take that from me then they are highly mistaken." She paused, and then looked up at him, "We've gotta get moving."

He nodded, "The only way out of the Spire is through the Commandant's chamber."

"Oh. Well. Of course it would be. Fantastic." She couldn't help but feel a vicious anticipation deep in her chest. All the years she had longed to kill him... Maybe she wouldn't get a chance. But, if she did, she was going to take it.

She kept her sword in her hand, walking swiftly out the door, a hand held out to Garth's shoulder to hasten him on. Her heart was pumping again, adrenaline and Will coursing through her body, the feeling unlike any other, spurring her on. She felt like she was alive again. This was going to be... eventful.

"Garth?"

He glanced at her, "What."

"What was that you called me?"

He gave a small, dark smile, "Blade."

"Blade..." She nodded, slowly. Her hand slipped instinctively onto the weapon, as if she was born for it. Then a smile moved slowly onto her face, "Sounds about right."