Where Time Stands Still

Where they were, time didn't mean shit.

It was quiet.

Safe.

But it wasn't the Garden.

As a matter of fact, they weren't sure about their whereabouts.

Just that… it was quiet and painless.

The only downside?

It was terribly lonely without the presence of their beloved companions.

Erembour could currently be described in one word: Majestic.

D was more than capable of running for extended periods of time at vehicular speeds. Doing so, however, meant he accordingly expended his energy reserves in a short amount of time. But Erembour offered his services once he'd regained a bit of his strength. Declaring they could take turns running themselves ragged.

Just as soon as he ate.

So, D paced in the area. Waiting (impatiently) for the Demon's return.

When he did, he was a glorious 20 hands tall. His shaggy mane an inky black that seemed to absorb the light that struck it. And the only tell that he wasn't a cut-and-dry horse was the mouth of jagged teeth. Otherwise, he was slim but strong. Feet appearing hooved at a glance. But the four toes of each foot wiggled and spread. Ready to traverse the terrain of the rainforest with ease and speed.

"… well? Saddle me and let's go."

He did. Checking the fit before mounting and urging him onward.

He wasn't certain how long it would take them to reach the facility. The same one Edmont had fled. But he eyed the marker that blinked lazily on the screen he held in his palm, thankful that it was no longer moving. They would only need to find the entrance. Assuming he did not cleave the mountain open to reach them.

However, he would like to keep it intact as best he could. Explore and find as much information as possible. And not smite the poor girls.

As the surroundings rushed past them, D found himself thinking on Rhea and Krista and grimacing. Wishing he'd have realized something was amiss sooner.

Not that there was any changing it. Not unless he wanted to rend time and space and absolutely fuck up the Records. Although, there was a first for everything.

No. It was best to only rewrite history with the Records themselves. And only for things of great importance.

Surely two girls were not such an instance.

It'd been a few days.

Mahant found himself worrying. Needlessly.

He'd not seen the formless Soul in only a few nights. And despite not knowing who or what it was, he worried. Fretted over the safety of someone he'd not met.

Hopefully all was well, and they were merely busy or had decided to move on.

In this place, time stood still.

Yet, the world seemed to spin.

They were being jostled. Pinched. Poked. Prodded.

Beneath their feet, the ground glimmered like bloodstained glass. Shifting and heaving in gentle waves.

It was comforting. In a sick way.

It was the only thing they recognized.

"Put your fingers to the ground."

Easy.

Their fingers danced across the surface.

"Now, create."

Create what? Patterns?

The red glass moved like putty beneath their touch as they drew small, swirling patterns.

"No!"

Their drawings quivered and disappeared.

Fucking rude.

"Create."

How could they create if they weren't given specifics?

"Fine. Create a golem."

Yeah. Okay. Not possible.

"Try."

With a huff, they used both hands to mold the putty. Creating some semblance of a humanoid figure. And if it looked more like it needed to be put out of its misery than given life? Well… It wasn't said by them.

"What the…?"

It was quickly flattened back into its previous state by a hand they couldn't see.

"Try a second time."

Really fucking rude!

"If you keep it up, they'll increase your dosage. Do you want to be in a vegetative state?"

Kinda.

"Just do as you're told."

So, they did. Shaping the mass into a form that (surprisingly) held. Only meaning that it did not immediately begin sagging. It was still not the most beautiful thing.

"That's… better?"

Objectively.

"Now, bring it to life."

Fucking how? It was dirt. Dirt can sustain and feed life. It cannot be alive.

Can it?

No. Wait. It was bloodstained glass.

Dirt?

Glass putty.

Still, they attempted to will life into it.

With a rather consternated stare, the girls tried. Watching blood channel through the glass. Filling their little ugly golem.

There came a low groaning from it. A noise that had no place in the world. And with a crack, blood sprayed the ground.

"Again."

They tried.

It failed.

"Again."

…

"Again."

…

"Again!"

And on and on this continued. Until the girls were coated in blackening blood and surrounded by the failures they were unable to reshape. Their eyes dripping as they attempted to do as instructed.

Because, after a time, with each failed attempt came a rush of nausea-inducing pain.

In this place, time meant nothing.

There was only one thing they knew for certain.

The person instructing them was an absolute prick.

Erembour was bushed.

Absolutely, positively drained.

The periods of rest between playing horse were not enough to keep him going. Perhaps if he could eat more. Or perhaps if he was in his natural plane of existence. As it stood, however, maintaining any semblance of a physical form was becoming a strain.

He was pushing through it for the Hunter.

But D suddenly (yet gently) tugged on his mane. Snapping him into attention.

"You're exhausted," he said.

He couldn't lie. Couldn't do more than pant and gasp as he collapsed in the bushes. As if that singular statement, once spoken aloud, had made it a reality.

"Could you regain your energy if I carried you?"

His eyes rolled back to eye D as he shifted down. Down into the tiniest little body possible without edging into buggy territory. "… no offense, but you've been carrying me."

There was no offense, but D did appear less than amused. Staring in a way that said he was not convinced by the Demon's 'obliviousness'.

In response, after a few minutes of this petulant staring contest, Erembour huffed, "You know it would drain you of the energy you require."

"Energy I can easily replenish."

Now, he looked less reluctant and more resigned.

"It's a good thing we have all these capsules, right?" Hand interjected. "You hitch a ride. Siphon off some energy. Carry him for a bit while he refuels. Repeat until we reach our destination."

They were being logical, and he hated it.

"I will not force you, but it would be a benefit to all parties involved."

"How the Hell is my being a parasite a benefit to you?!" he barked.

"We will reach the girls with you in fighting condition."

And if that wasn't the final nail in the fucking coffin.

"Alright!" the Demon snarled. "It'll be mostly passive. I'll leech for a bit, but you may need to warn me if I start taking too much."

"Of course."

"And then!" He swelled back to his standard size and hopped forward. Excited as he stood at the man's feet. Previous grievances with the plan flying out the window at the prospect of feeling rejuvenated for the first time in months. "We'll switch out. You'll drink. Just like Hand suggested. I just… need your permission."

"I wasn't aware possession needed consent."

"I do, Hunter." Now, he snorted. "Unless you want a contract? No asking for consent every time. You can stop me at a command."

He would be giving up his freedom. Something he'd worked hard to get. On top of the escape from the drama. Yet, he found himself unbothered by having a potential 'Master'. So long as it was this man. Or the girls.

They were good to him.

And perhaps they could continue to temper his compulsion to wander and collect. Something he could control to a degree on his own. Proven by his actions the night that woman turned a town on its head. Where he'd wanted to devour her, but he'd been drawn back to the carnage in the streets. To the Souls severed too soon.

"Unnecessary. Now, come."

And Erembour stared at the hand the man extended. Surprised. Confused.

More than that, however, he was incredibly grateful. Bowing his head subserviently before murmuring, "Thank you." Carefully, he pressed into D's palm. Violet eyes shut to the world as he took the moment to bask in the sense of belonging.

But they had to go.

"This might feel… uncomfortable."

And with no other warning, the man watched as the Demon's form melted away into snaking tendrils that curled and twisted up his arm. Pressing with increasing insistence at his flesh. Softly sinking in with a sharp, short-lived spike of pain.

Slinking along beneath his skin until they wound about his heart and squeezed before dissolving altogether.

He would be lying if he claimed he felt no different. There was certainly a weight there. Deep in his Soul. A sense that he was carrying the weight of more than just himself. Yet it did not necessarily feel intrusive. Not with the way the Demon had decided to attach himself.

It felt more like a cold blanket that needed a bit of his own heat to warm up.

The initial draw on that warmth was barely noticeable. And slowly, as the Hunter flew past mountain trees and up the gradual incline, that cool blanket steadily warmed. Until eventually it was just a bit of extra weight on an already heavy Soul.

In this place, time passed strangely.

They still possessed no concept of time, yet they were sure that they'd been forced to work at this golem shit for an awfully long time. An inordinately unreasonable length of time. Albeit, the breaks between everything were more than welcome. But they weren't long enough.

True, they couldn't be certain of how long the breaks actually were, but for how they felt? For how their energy continued to diminish and never replenished? They never felt rested. Each 'break' was more a tease of what it could be.

Perhaps that was the intention.

So, they 'rested'. Their tears had long dried up. Yet the blood didn't seem to be governed by the same logic. Black as it was, it only smeared across their flesh as they wiped at it.

Disgusting.

Rotten.

But at least it was quiet.

Was anyone with them?

Silence.

The surroundings melted away until they stood in the Garden. A place they could speak without fear of being overheard. A place that was more familiar and comforting than the Sea.

Their chances to slip in had been limited. Whoever looked over them seemed to know whenever they did and would immediately shock them out of it.

In the Garden, time had a bit more meaning.

In the Garden, they could see just how worn down the other was. Eyes pitifully grey. Skin pale and sunken. Even the sky seemed dingy and weak-willed. As if the atmosphere was in threat of dissipating. The plants wilted and brittle to the touch.

The only thing unaffected was, blessedly, their tree. Standing beautifully. Lovingly enveloped in their mess of volatile plants. Just as alive as it could be.

It was reassuring.

And while they were constantly together, there was something even more reassuring about being able to physically feel the body of their sister.

"We need to fight," Rhea murmured into her hair. "We can't keep goin' like this."

"I know. I just don't know how."

Neither of them knew.

But they were sure as shit going to try.

For the moment, they sank beneath the trailing branches of their tree. Content to rest. Eager to dream of everything they couldn't currently have.

"I don't see what the Council finds so fascinating about you."

The girls startled awake at the new voice.

Feminine.

Sweet.

It made their skin crawl and their teeth itch.

"They feed you, yet you look half-dead!"

Well, they couldn't really argue that. But the woman could fuck right off with her bullshit.

"And mouthy."

Who wouldn't be in a situation such as this?

"Someone who knows their place."

Because fuck equality? That's stupid.

"We were both made with a purpose. I didn't fit the mold, so I found my own."

Must be nice.

Perhaps they shouldn't be envious of this woman, however.

"It's not my fault you can't forge your own path. And since you are unable to, you should learn your place."

They should have expected the gripping pain that followed those words.

They didn't. Could only groan. Head throbbing and body tight.

Shit, they hadn't even said anything ugly.

This woman must just be a bitch.

Huge bitch.

Biggest fucking piece of shit they'd had the displeasure of hearing in this place thus far.

The pain increased tenfold. Until they were screaming and kinda wishing they were dead before it was tapering off into an irritating buzz.

"See? You are below me."

Or she was just deluding herself.

"You were worthless."

The Hell they were.

"But the Council and the Sacred Ancestor shall give you worth."

They had worth. They did not need a group of assholes telling them shit to be of worth to someone.

Unless D didn't care.

…

Nah. That was just stupid. He was very clearly concerned if he was willing to take a stake for them. So… they must be worth something to him.

Ha!

Suck on that!

"No, you suck on this."

Another round of the tenfold shock. Draining them of any energy they'd managed to replenish as they struggled to escape it.

Nerves aflame.

Thoughts consumed.

And that endless ocean that stretched before them. Jittering as the Demon pressed in close at their feet.

That's right.

He was always there. Always lurking. Something constantly at the back of their minds. In their dreams.

This bastard was far more worrying than a few pitiful shocks.

"Pitiful?"

Yes. Pitiful.

It would take a lot more before they would succumb to any of her bullshit.

Although, as the voltage ramped up and dragged on for entirely too long, they figured it was never too late to learn how to keep their mouth shut.

Time felt increasingly more meaningless.

Instead of the instructor from before, the woman with a temper was constantly there. Pushing them to try harder. Go longer.

Or did it just seem that way?

They hated it.

Hated that part of them was terrified of the shocks since they seemed to last for minutes at a time.

Yet, that didn't seem to affect their mouth. It still ran before looking both ways.

And here they were. Smears on the pavement.

Or rather, they felt they were.

"Wow. You really are worthless."

Ah. Their golems.

The poor things were deteriorating in tandem with them. Where before they held their shape, now they slumped and assumed the appearance of poop. Lots of piles of poop.

It wasn't their fault, of course. They couldn't help it if their bodies turned to gloop.

The girls' current attempt couldn't even manage that, honestly. It was too busy being a shapeless mass that refused to assume any sort of cohesive form.

They bit their tongue as the current ran through them. Blood flooding their mouth.

It was counterintuitive wasn't it?

Give person objective.

Demand they do better.

Punish them when they fail.

Take away the energy they needed to do better.

Punish them for continuing to fail.

Bitch.

"You know, I find it amusing."

What? Their backwards way of thinking?

"Ha! No!"

There was a disturbance in the air around them. And something smelt decidedly… off. Burnt?

A featherlight touch skimmed across their forehead.

"That I am supposed to be your proto-clone, yet I have a better handle on my abilities than you do."

Proto-clone?

"I feel disgraced and disgusted knowing I came from such a weak individual. And if anyone were to claim we were sisters, I would kill them."

Honestly, they might kill someone.

Probably her.

"If I didn't know better, I would say that you are the knockoff and I am the original."

Ouch.

But… there was a bit of truth to her words.

Didn't make it hurt any less.

The too-soft touch suddenly clasped their chin and cheeks. Bruising as the woman's fingers dug into their sunken flesh. "Now, create."

Sure… Right away, madam. Sorry for dawdling, madam. They would be sure to hop to it.

They would create the most wonderful mess out of her face.

"Yeah? And how do you expect to do so when you are restrained?"

Deep breath in.

Slowly out.

In.

And out.

"Breathing exercises? Don't think that will do much aside from make you calm."

In.

They focused on her touch. Something that felt so far away yet pushed on their teeth in a way that bordered on worrying.

Out.

They focused on that touch until fingers the color of graphite melted into view. Digging into their cheeks. Staining their skin a rotten black.

In.

Bones cracked and chains rattled as they wrenched their arm upwards. Swinging with all their might towards the surprised face quickly coming into view. The honey-colored skin paling considerably when their bindings snapped.

Krista and Rhea would not lie.

The woman's expression brought them no small amount of glee. And it was only furthered when their claws tore through her beautiful flesh. Staining their padded fingers in her bright vermillion blood.

With a shrill shriek, the woman recoiled. Her muddy-grass eyes blackening. Darkening and spreading until it bruised the surrounding skin. Those grey fingers clutching at the wound stretching across her face.

In that room stood two girls. Two terribly similar yet painfully different girls. One tethered to a post in a pit of dirt, the other slowly retreating towards the far wall. And if looks could kill, Rhea and Krista would have been dead a thousand times over.

"What's the matter?" they hissed, voice rasping in their throat as they strained the chains remaining. Crushing the failed golems underfoot. "If you're so bloody superior, get your ass over here and prove it!"

But she didn't. Instead, she jabbed her finger into a button on the panel. Black eyes never straying far from them as she waited for a response and attempted to keep the blood from her pastel blue dress.

After a moment, a warbling voice streamed through the speaker. "Yes, Madam?"

"Bring the Doctor in. I want this bitch medicated properly."

A beep filled the short pause before the voice came back. "The Doctor has been paged; however, I see no change in her dosing since they last increased it. Can I ask what the problem is, Madam?"

She did not have the chance to properly answer as the girls screamed. Deformed body jerking as the electric current flowed through them. Yet, they continued to move. Wrenching at the chains and shackles.

"Madam Aston? Do you require protection?"

Did she?

She was the superior one, after all.

What would the Council think if she couldn't handle this… failure?

They wouldn't think. Would only put an end to her existence.

"No," Aston bit out. "I just want the Doctor to adjust her dosage. I can handle her."

"As you wish, Madam."

And then, they were alone. Bloodied fingers trembling and clawed digits digging into the metal bindings.

"Aston, huh?" they huffed, sounding almost amused as they pulled one chain taut. But down their brows went, sharp teeth bared as another current flooded their body. However, they pushed through. Struggling to find their way to their other form.

Like a wounded animal, it crawled closer to the surface. Looking every bit as exhausted as they felt.

Were they asking for too much?

Swell the body. Break the chains. Rend the flesh from this woman's bones.

Maybe so.

Yet, it was needed.

The bands about their wrists snapped.

They needed the strength.

As little as it was, it flooded their limbs and pushed them forward. Chains rattling and snapping with a sharp pop. And the woman simply stood there. Watching as the girls stumbled, forced themselves upwards, and stalked closer.

To be honest, they weren't sure they could move much faster.

"I'm so glad I don't share every bit of your DNA."

Their body continued to shift as they crossed the room. Face pushing the border between Human and Feline.

"I would absolutely detest looking like a diseased rodent."

Did she realize her Soul was just as ugly?

If only they could rip it out and reveal its taint.

"I know what you're thinking."

Doubt.

"You want to kill me. Yet, I get the sensation you want to befriend me."

Perhaps in another lifetime, sure. But in this one, that was the furthest thing from their minds. There would be no peace between them. Aston had chosen her path. Even if the girls could not bring about her end at this exact moment, it would still come.

"No," they growled. "You've made your bed. You will lie in it."

Aston would be lying if she said she was not surprised. Confused, even. Her brows crawled up towards the straw-colored hair before she slowly side-stepped the hulking figure. And without pause, she pulled out a slim rod where the handle was wrapped in a thick layer of rubber.

She pressed the dark, unassuming tip to the furred flesh and pushed the button. The device boasted a typically lethal voltage. Something strong enough to take some of the most resilient creatures to their knees.

Such was not the case for the girl.

They snarled and lunged at her. Slinging saliva and blood. Pissed to the point of tears as they sank their teeth and claws into the meat of her.

They did not expect for her to taste like hot garbage.

Like homemade sausage, sealed in plastic and left to fester in a hot garage in the middle of summer.

"Don't I taste good?" she laughed. Showing no sign of being bothered aside from the near-imperceptible furrowing of her brow. "Poor little pussy. Don't you know too much sugar will rot your guts?"

The girls could feel it now. Prickling their tongue.

A nauseating, burning sensation that crawled its way down their gullet, despite their lack of swallowing.

They should let go… right?

They didn't.

Sputtering.

Choking.

Bile surged up their throat and past their teeth. Black and rancid as it coated Aston's dress.

"Release me."

When had those tan hands risen and pressed to their chest?

It burned, but it was nothing compared to Gif Tier Ig's.

And she certainly was not pushing near hard enough to force them off. Or dissuade them.

Perhaps it was enough to bruise flesh and break bones, but still not enough.

"Release me, you bloody mutt!"

'Well, if it is a dog she wants, a dog she shall get.'

A dog with a bone.

Minds made up, they mustered their strength and sank their teeth into Aston's humerus. Wrenching with all their might in one fluid movement. Until flesh was shredded with a sickly squelch and the arm slapped against the one-way mirror. Splattering blood against the now-cracked glass.

"You fucking bitch!"

Their vision whipped around with a nasty snap. Their body feeling like a separate entity as it lurched to one side and into the mirrored wall. Their muddled minds unable to coordinate the limbs with any sort of efficiency.

Perhaps their inability to properly breathe was not helping.

Did they really need to breathe? Couldn't they just… not? They weren't Human. They should be able to just not.

But their body heavily disagreed. Refusing to bend to their will until they met its demands.

"Is that all you could muster?" Aston asked. Snarling as she mocked, "Just a glass cannon, aren't you?"

Maybe they were. Relying on the feline form to pull them out of sticky situations.

What else could they do?

It was part of who they were. Part of their defenses.

What else could they do?!

Aston stood over them, snatching up her severed arm with a disgusted grunt as blood pulsed from the wound. "All that posturing. You realize I can simply attach the arm?"

Their own arm suddenly swung upwards. Fingers digging into the severed limb still dangling in her hold before they squeezed. Right at the wrist.

Fast enough Aston had no time to stop their assault.

With enough force to pulverize the bones.

Their claws made quick work of the weakened flesh.

It was their hand, now.

Aston was unable to feel their spiteful action, but she would know. A glass cannon they might be. A quiet one they were not.

The hair at the nape of their neck stood on end, air feeling charged with the woman's ire. Yet, they were proud of themselves. Heart beating out a chaotic rhythm brought about only by their state. Not the fear that they'd soon be punished.

"And I am able to do the same with my hand."

Not for long.

Ignoring their inability to properly live and not struggle for breath or choke on their own bodily fluids, the girls shoved it into their mouth and chewed. It still tasted awful, but not as bad as it had still attached.

Maybe their tongue was too rotted to properly taste.

"Oh! Very mature!" Aston shouted. Tossing the mutilated limb to the side as she lunged for their mouth. Desperately trying to retrieve her hand that was quickly becoming mulch.

It was no different than fighting a dog for a forbidden treat.

It wasn't meant to be eaten, but they'd be damned if they'd be denied the tasty morsel. They would merely chew faster. And if the person happened to be missing a hand?

Well, that was certainly a point in their favor.

"Is everything alright?"

Their heads snapped about to eye the man suddenly filling the previously empty space at the end of the mirror. A large, hulking figure. Surely too large to fit through any sort of doorway, yet there he was.

How the Hell did he do the doctor thing? His fingers were as thick around as their bloody wrists.

No, maybe he wasn't that large…

They swallowed the mush with an audible gulp. Very much unintimidated by the newcomer, but they very much wanted to make it as hard as physically possible for Aston to retrieve her hand. If she even could at this point.

Did some of it just fall out of their neck?

Their hand slapped at their throat, then closer to the jaw and ear. Fingers eventually finding a sizable opening.

'Shit. No wonder we can't breathe right.'

It was just as they were shoving the missed bit of hand back in that the towering man came to hover above them. The silky fabric of his cream-colored shirt briefly dragging across their face.

They thought it was a waste. Staining such a nice fabric with the blood dripping from their flesh.

"You're in quite the state, aren't you?" he murmured. "And you have eaten Madam Aston's hand, have you not?"

How astute of him. What was his first guess? Her missing it? Them chewing furiously?

"Feisty, too."

Could he read thoughts?

"I suppose you could say as much."

'Then fuck off. Unless you're gonna let us go.'

"Afraid not," he murmured. "But I do need you to regurgitate Madam Aston's hand."

That would be a no. It was theirs.

Their jaw was suddenly being wrenched open. The Doctor pressing one of his large fingers into their throat.

It had no effect.

"Interesting."

What the fuck was so interesting about him shoving his finger into their throat like a bloody Neanderthal?

"No gag reflex."

So?

"Would you rather have your stomach pumped?" he prodded as he pulled back.

He looked overjoyed at the prospect. Round, green eyes glimmering in the dim lighting as his lips stretched back. Revealing painfully straight teeth dotted with glimmering bits of metal. Not appearing necessary, but there all the same.

"To be honest," he continued. "I've been waiting to see you in person. More than that, however, I've been anticipating the orders from the Council to study you. See what makes you tick."

But they weren't a clock?

"Seems the rot and exhaustion is affecting your cognizance."

Sksksksks.

Cogs.

"Stahl," Aston suddenly said, effectively drawing his unnerving stare away from them. "It's your lucky day. As part of the Council, I want you to begin your research immediately. Rip every bit of information you can from her genetics."

"And what of the other Council members?"

Aston scoffed as she held the retrieved severed limb to her still-bleeding nub. "I will speak with them. It has been plenty long enough and she has not improved the slightest bit."

"I see."

Back those eyes came to them. Crinkling as that too-wide smile spread across his face for the second time. Teeth glittering.

"And I want my hand back."

"Well… much obliged, Madam Aston. We will get started right away."

Where they'd not been intimidated before, they certainly were in that moment as he hefted them up and over his shoulder. Knowing that nothing good could come of his researching.

At least they'd managed to put a damper on Aston's mood.

There was a sharp prick to their thigh. The sedative, no doubt.

"Indeed, it is."

And before they realized, before the Doctor could even carry them out the door, their head flopped against his back and their world went silent.

In this place, time was meaningless.

They really wanted to know what was happening.

To them.

To their family.

Gods help them. They wished they could go visit someone, or even peruse the facility.

They could not.

For whatever reason (maybe due to exhaustion, maybe because they were forced into this near-dreamless state), they were unable to leave their body. Project. Whatever it was called.

But they certainly tried.

There were a handful of times. Where they thought they'd been able to reach the Hunter. However, it'd never been stable. A passing of feelings and sensations.

Wind through their hair.

Darkness at their fingertips.

Shadows in their heart.

It was depressing.

But their family was coming. So, perhaps it wasn't too bad.

They did not want to have to rely on the man and the Demon every time they found themselves in deep shit, yet they didn't seem to have much choice.

Nonetheless, it was exceedingly frustrating.

They hated feeling useless. Unable to defend themselves or save themselves.

True, they'd done well enough against Ig. Yet… that one moment out of all the others? It basically amounted to nothing.

A wave of exhaustion swept over them. Pulling them further into darkness. Their heart thrumming loudly in their ears.

"Shit." Rhea grabbed for her sister. Unable to see, but desperate to have something to hold on to. "I fuckin' hate this."

Krista agreed wholeheartedly. "I know we've been trying, but we really need to wake up. Again."

"Yeah."

They just wished they knew how.

It was strange. Their energy came in waves. Filling them. Fleeing them.

An inconsistent cycle.

With each return, they fought to harvest it. Struggled to pull themselves out of this limbo.

It wasn't happening.

But suddenly, it was as if the object weighing them down was lifted. Thrown to the side.

They did not have much energy, yet they were willing to take any chance they were given.

Together, they reached out. Fingers tearing through the veil until light, blindingly bright, seared their eyes.

Blinking to clear the sudden onslaught of tears, Rhea and Krista slowly rolled their vision over their surroundings. Making no movement aside (not that they likely could if the thing across their forehead was a restraint).

The room, sporting a floor-to-ceiling window on the far side that provided an unobstructed view of the facility they resided in, smelled so fiercely of antiseptic that it burned their sinuses. Through the impeccably clean glass, they watched as people of all sizes milled about.

If the people spoke, which it certainly seemed they did, it was quiet. Inaudible to their ears.

Scattered betwixt the space of their room and the ones opposite stood a few tables. Things they felt were quite similar to what they were currently strapped to. But if they had to guess, the reason for there only being one person in the central room was because all the others were in rooms such as theirs.

At their rear, too-loud creaking broke the dull thrum of the machines. Soft moaning intermittently interrupting the sounds.

Their neighbor must have been in pain. Gods know they were.

There was a hiss as locks and seals released, and their gaze shifted to the end of the windowed wall.

The figure that entered was massive. They could only assume it was the man from before. Stahl. Proven to be true when he treaded closer.

It also seemed he had plenty of replacements for the shirt that'd been ruined.

"You are becoming acclimated to this cocktail," he murmured. Sounding unsurprised despite the rising of his bushy brows. Yet, he bared that terribly wide grin of his as he leaned over and depressed a button on the table. "Doesn't matter much. We've essentially reached the end of our research."

Slowly, their bed rose. Giving them the sensation that they might slide from the metal contraption at any moment. But they didn't, the restraints doing well to hold them suspended. "What are you gonna do?" they rasped. Throat stinging and raw.

"Doesn't matter," he quipped as he turned to eye the monitors scattered about. Scribbling away on the tablet in his hands. "The Council will decide soon enough. Until then, I will collect the last round of data."

Briefly, their eyes flickered downwards to observe their very nude body (something they wanted to rectify as soon as possible in this strange man's presence). Not immediately spotting any pads for the sensors.

However, they did… shine.

"What the fuck is making us glitter?"

"Well, when your skin has the propensity to eat at the adhesive," he started, strafing about their table to observe the monitors to the rear. "Suffice to say that, when faced with unusual circumstances, you must improvise."

And if that simple statement didn't immediately fill them with dread.

They started to ask anyways. But they stopped, pricking their ears.

There was a noise. Peculiar, deep. Starting as a low vibration that they felt in their bones until it hit a deafening crescendo. And for an inordinate amount of time, it stayed there. Maddeningly loud.

Pop!

Just like that, it was gone.

A quick glance at Stahl told them it was not something he was in on.

So, either something was going wrong or…

Did they dare hope?

He hummed. Watching his fellow scientists through the window as a few of the many scuttled and scurried about. Their eyes wild and frantic. "Don't move. I will return shortly."

Out the door he swept. Disappearing around the corner in the opposite direction from the noise. Quite different from what the others were doing.

Call it a hunch, but they felt he would not be returning. No matter what he said.

More people came out into the central room. Looking about in confusion. Unsure of what to do. If they should do anything.

There was a distant explosion, rocking the facility.

That was their cue. Because either the facility was under attack, or it was simply falling apart.

They wanted no part of it.

Pulling against their restraints, the girls strained. Head feeling full of cotton.

Another explosion, this one significantly closer.

Harder.

Their heart beat erratically.

Harder.

The band about their midsection snapped, and they were pleased to note that they possessed the mobility needed to break the restraints about their limbs and head soon after.

What they did not anticipate was for their body to be so… pathetic.

Their knees buckled under their weight, and they landed heavily on the cold floor. A weak, breathy scream being wrenched from their throat as pain alighted every nerve. Vision blurring and wavering. Darkening about the edges.

They were entirely too weak for this bullshit.

Whatever glittered like diamonds on their body certainly did not approve of being jostled. Or pushed in.

Blindly, they groped anything lodged within their flesh.

Pins.

Many, many needles.

Some attached to tubing stained red.

Some blinking softly.

There were entirely too many.

"Shit!"

Their shaking fingers swept over their forearms first, pulling away the bandages holding needles in place. And with their skin speckled in red, irritated and inflamed, they moved for the ones littering their body.

The first few were easy. Slipping free with barely a pinch and quietly tinkling against the ground.

The one over their stomach, however, had them crying out. Teeth clenched as they gingerly tweaked it.

Anchored.

"What is with these fuckers and barbed things?!"

A question even Krista had on her mind. But they couldn't postulate the reasons. Didn't have the time.

They curled their fingers about its shaft, taking in a deep breath.

Rip!

They kept their eyes pinched shut, panting and whimpering.

Under D's tutelage, they'd been cut. Stabbed. Broken. Burned. Nearly eviscerated. Yet, in that moment, they were sure it'd finally happened.

They would open their eyes and their guts would be hanging off the end of that probe. Clinging like strange fruit.

It was not so.

There was quite a bit of meat clinging to the barbs, but their guts did not come with it.

Small miracles, right?

Mouth filling with saliva (from pain or fear, they weren't sure), they moved on to the one that was likely imbedded in their spleen. Gripping it as if it were a wild animal and not an inanimate object. But they wouldn't think on it too much.

They would only rip.

Move.

Rip.

Move and rip.

Until every major organ had effectively been shredded by those spine-laden needles and their bloodied lips quivered.

Just… one last one…

Heart sputtering and lurching from the stress, the girls sobbed as they gripped it. Attempting to be quiet as one explosion seemed to be in a neighboring facility. But perhaps they needn't worry too much. The screams were loud enough to cover such a small noise.

Another beat, wherein they did not rip and tear. Did not move. Barely daring to breathe. And in that moment, they were tempted to leave the damned thing.

It was their heart, for cryin' out loud!

"We got this, Sis," Rhea breathed. Trying to be supportive.

Trying to convince herself.

"It's gonna fuckin' hurt."

"No shit. But… we got this."

Under a will that was not Krista's own, the needle was wrenched out of their chest. Vision black. Ears ringing. Mouth tasting of copper.

Through it all, they could smell smoke. Something that was harsh and smelled of chemicals. Something they certainly hoped was catching a few of the scientists. And while the cold floor was an odd comfort, they needed to move.

They forced their limbs to shift. Flailed a moment as their sight flickered in and out unreliably. And eventually, they had their hands under them. Pushing them up onto unsteady legs.

It was a good thing that the monitors were sturdy enough to support them.

Carefully, afraid of disturbing their fragile sense of stability or straining their damaged heart, they turned to peer with their wavering vision through the glass wall.

It was… chaos. Caused by something they could not identify. Fueled by the panic.

Good. Let them run.

One scientist went tumbling to the floor.

They hoped he was trampled.

However, they did not wait to watch and witness it. They eyed the table they'd fallen from, the long slit that bisected it from head to foot. Something that would be perfectly in line with the spine.

They should have expected nothing less. Yet, their blood ran cold as they turned to fully face the contraption and accompanying monitors, laser focused on the input from their body. Finally detecting the slight drag of tubes. The extra bit of weight.

The pressure.

They dared not touch the things there. Lurching instead to the machine to which everything was attached. The display silently recording and graphing. Slinging about numbers that their minds couldn't comprehend in that moment.

Their fingers danced across the panel of buttons and commands. Testing each one with varied levels of success. Because, if possible, they wanted to… not rip out chunks of their brain.

In the end, only one selection led down a promising path of prompts before falling short of a solution.

All because they did not possess the password or biometrics to gain access.

"Fucking shit!"

What could they do?

Take a chance?

Wait to possibly be killed, either by whatever was happening or because the people came back and decided they were a waste of space?

Or kill themselves via an unwanted, self-inflicted lobotomy?

…

In that room stood a single unit. Two Souls desperate to escape the Hell they'd found themselves in. Practically powerless, just when they'd thought they'd found their way.

In that room, time meant very little as their fingers clasped the needle anchored in at the base of their skull. Knowing this could be their last living moment. Could be their only 'fuck you' to the Council.

What more motivation did they need?

The air shuddered and filled with glittering glass. Amber as it danced and swirled before them.

They closed their eyes. Calling forth their many memories of the Hunter, the Demon, and Hand.

In that room, two girls prayed to Gods they weren't sure listened.

Begging for more time.

Petrified.

In that room of sterile, cold steel, two girls cried for mercy as they ripped the needle free.