Chapter Nine: Ophiuchus
(Part 3)
The motel was cheap, and it showed. Dirty and old, it lacked the upkeep it should have but it was more than all right for Ophiuchus—Zelda? Could she even call herself that?—and she dropped onto the mattress, exhausted.
But relaxing wasn't on her to-do list, no. She connected to the shitty motel wifi with a stolen laptop and began researching. She needed to know everything she had missed, everything that had happened and where she even was. How would she get to a safe house and grab a run kit needed for crossing borders?
~Why don't you contact Soma?
Adan suggested.
"No," she rasped, throat dry. She hadn't had anything to drink or eat in more than twelve hours. She would need to use some of her stolen money to stock up.
~Why not?
Ophiuchus didn't answer him; instead, she focused on the task at hand. It was obvious she was in Russia, as everyone had spoken a large percentage of Russian at the base, and now, it was clear as day. Ophiuchus had long since fallen into using Russian as her primary language. Even now, she was speaking it.
When was the last time she had spoken English? It had to be just before that kid arrived.
Ophiuchus shuddered, pushing that deep down. She had no desire to think of it, and she could feel her fingers begin to tremble as her mind refused to leave it alone. Forgetting or pushing it aside was never easy, no matter how people say it is.
~Just breathe.
Adan instructed. Ophiuchus did, sucking in deep breaths, choking on them.
~That's it, Ze. You're doing a good job.
He soothed.
Ophiuchus got on with her work, allowing herself to hyper-focus to forget.
When she emerged from her haze, Ophiuchus had all the information she needed and a desperate need to take a piss despite not having drunk anything. The bathroom light buzzed, and the contractor fan whirled obnoxiously loud. The mirror was dirty and chipping at the edges.
Ophiuchus stared into it. Her face was sunken, with dark circles beneath her eyes. Her hair was tangled and greasy from lack of upkeep. She looked like a right mess, no wonder the receptionist had been scared of her.
Zelda turned to the bath and ran the shower. There was no way she was going to go out looking like a homeless person. The shower products provided were more than enough to do the job and the towels were surprising well-kept and fluffy.
But shoving on her old clothes was a necessity. Guess she was pickpocketing more money.
The supermarket was quiet for this time of evening; there were very few shoppers, and Ophiuchus breathed a sigh of relief.
She headed for food first. Some pasta pots for quick and easy use, some breakfast bars, a water bottle that she could refill, some hygiene products, and then clothes, underwear included.
It was another breath of relief to be able to find everything she needed.
As Ophiuchus strolled down an aisle to the checkout, she spotted some hair bleach and impulsively threw it into the cart with a blonde dye kit.
Maybe she needed some physical change to kick everything off. If MECH was looking for her too, she needed to make them.
It's the first thing she does when Ophiuchus gets back to her motel room. She reads the package and grabs a pair of scissors, and snipped away. Chunks and long strands fall into the sink until all that's left is a choppy pixie cut.
~I've never seen you with such short hair before.
Adan observed.
Ophiuchus had wondered where he'd gone. Guess he was back now.
"Need to change," she shrugged and unboxed the bleach to begin applying it. The smell tickled her nose worse with her enhanced sense of smell. She coughed. The tingling of her scalp felt weird.
In the end, the now blonde goes to bed in clean clothes and, for the first time in years, sleeps peacefully. It doesn't last because four hours later, she's awake, panting from the nightmare.
But it counts for something, she supposed.
Ophiuchus leaves the motel that next morning, heading west to the border and thus the closest safe house the D.A.A had.
The safe house is a bare apartment in a poorer district. It is made to look abandoned and lacked anything of value to ward away anyone who attempts to break in.
She fished for the key from inside a pipe and unlocked the door. It smells of dampness and aged wood, and Ophiuchus made herself at home for the next week.
She performed maintenance on her arm; the chilled air outside made her scarring ache, and she had definitely taken damage during her escape. A few bullets in the silicone muscle façade were plucked out, but there was nothing that could be done about sealing the holes they left behind.
She tested each connector to the fingers, feeling the buzz and tingles as they zapped her. Somehow, Cooper connected the arm to her nerves, giving her complete control over it. It was something Ophiuchus had only ever seen in movies or read in books.
It had scared her at first. It was heavy, strong—could break a bone easily. She had broken plenty of them during her conditioning. Silas liked to laugh at the pain she inflicted upon the MECH soldiers ordered to fight her.
Ophiuchus distracted herself by taking a chunk out of a breakfast bar, angrily chewing on it.
There was only one time she dared glance at what was on those hard drives. She booted up the laptop and loaded the dozens and dozens of files—lists of names and documents, videos, and reports.
A video at random opens up.
Ophiuchus is puking, throwing the laptop across the room as her own screams echoed through the speakers.
The screams and pleas continued, and she scrambled across the room, ripping the laptop apart. She gasped, vomiting again as all she sees is that harsh spotlight, the unending scorching agony and Cooper's chipper voice singing.
Never again, never again, she sobbed, she can't, she can't.
Any progress made was undone by that alone.
Nothing Adan whispers brought Ophiuchus from her catatonic state until she's exhausted and unconscious.
Ophiuchus knows she's leaving a trail as she brought herself a second-hand motorbike from a dealership using a D.A.A card.
Ophiuchus knows everything that connects her back to the D.A.A leaves a trail Soma will find and follow.
Ophiuchus can't find it in herself to care.
All Ophiuchus felt was this deep ache inside her chest, but she doesn't know about what.
As she drove through countries, Ophiuchus doesn't see the harm in some sightseeing. She doesn't see the harm in exploring and letting herself integrate back into sociality little by little.
She tried food she'd never had before and went places she would never get to go with the D.A.A. A holiday was next to impossible with that line of work and Ophiuchus found she enjoyed this living on the moving thing. She enjoyed the freedom to pick and choose where and when she goes somewhere.
She sips a beer while camping in a small seaside town in France. She sat on the decking outside while the inside was lively with music and dancing. The outside heaters are on, and she watched the ocean in the distance. Could hear the crashing waves against the beach.
It had been weeks, and Ophiuchus was making her way through Europe.
~She's here.
Adan whispered.
She.
They could only be one she Adan was referring to. Arianna. Aria. Ophiuchus's sister. Zelda's sister.
Sometimes, it's hard to differentiate the two halves of herself. Adan says it's because she's finally accepting everything. That she was healing. That she was slowly becoming Zelda again.
Ophiuchus doesn't want to agree. Wanted to snap that Zelda was dead, but he just rebuffed her.
(~No one is ever the same as they were a year ago. Everyone is constantly changing. Your change was just different. You will always be Zelda in one form or another.)
The dastardly hallucination that wouldn't leave her alone could go shove it.
~Are you going to stay or leave?
Ophiuchus…no, she hesitated a beat, Zelda, stayed seated, gazing at the ocean.
Aria pulled the chair opposite her and settled into it, the familiar creak of the wood breaking the silence. They sat in a shared stillness, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging heavy in the air between them. Time seemed to stretch.
Zelda just…basked in this moment, fingers trembling, heart fluttering.
Finally, she tears her eyes away from the sea and to her twin. Aria had changed, too. Her hair was at her shoulders, a straight fringe across her forehead. She looked older, just like Zelda did. They were eighteen now, and change was bound to happen.
Aria looked good—mature. But it was clear she was tired and worn, and Zelda knew it was not from a loss of sleep.
Zelda's chest tightened knowing Aria was hurting, grieving. She had likely pushed and pushed when Zelda reared her head those months ago.
Aria looks exhausted because of Zelda. It just makes her feel worse.
"Aria," Zelda greeted. Not even weeks later could she drop the Russian tainting her voice but she was working on it.
"Zelda," Aria whispered tearfully.
Silence fell again.
"I—" Aria stopped and looked down at the table.
"I am…doing okay," Zelda assured. "Better than weeks ago. But…healing is not easy."
"What happened?"
"Spent two years a slave for Silas. The bastard experiments on us," Zelda explained tightly. "Adan's dead. Just me left, I made sure of it. Killed the other experiments since they were all MECH loyalists."
Aria exhaled.
Zelda held out her right hand, the hand that had once been flesh and blood but now was metal and silicone. Aria took it, squeezed it, and then realised it was not flesh. Zelda does not protest when Aria peeled the glove off, just watched as Aira sucked in a breath.
"They had no use for a disabled experiment," Zelda's lips twitched into a smirk. "It was their undoing in the end."
She reached into her bag and grabbed the smaller one inside. She pushed the computer parts across to Aria. "These are all the files from the scientist's computer. There is a lot on there, but fair warning, it will not be pretty."
"You're…you're speaking as if you—" Aria stopped and swallowed. "Are you…going to come back with us? Me?"
Zelda sighed. "Eventually but, I need some time, space. My head is…loose a few screws. I don't plan to go MECH hunting, and don't plan to kill anyone, Bluebell. Just…want time to get my head on straight."
"Okay," Aria whispered, lips quivering, eyes tearing up, and Zelda's own threatened to do the same. "I understand."
This time Aria reached into her bag, sliding across a purse.
"A phone, unlimited card, identification and a memory stick with information Soma thinks you might want," she cracked a smile. "Logan thought you might not want to…come back yet."
Zelda was hurting Aria; she knows this deeply. Zelda squeezed Aira's hands.
"Thank you," Zelda smiled softly. "I promise to keep in touch."
"That's all I can ask," Aria let go of Zelda's hands as she stood. "If you don't, I'll come hunt your arse down, got it?"
There was a tease in her voice, and Zelda cracked a grin and laughed.
A laugh that felt good. So, so good to let out.
"I promise," Zelda tilted her head back and downed the rest of her beer. She stood too, offering her arm, which Aria slipped hers into. They began walking to the exit. "I plan to do more sightseeing. We do not get to go out and about very often."
They reached Zelda's bike and she released Aria to pull her helmet on. She climbed on and started the bike.
Zelda smiled at her sister. "I'll make sure to send you plenty of pictures."
"You better," Aria took several steps back. "I love you."
Zelda revved the bike, stilled and chuckled. "I know."
She flipped the visor down and road off.
"You—!" Aria was left to splutter.
Zelda giggled to herself, leaving her sister behind to stew in anger at the Han Solo reference.
Ah, an old pass time. It never got old.