Posted: 11.14.1998
Date: 12.29.2195
Time: Evening
Continued from [p15]: Flight [T-minus 7...]
The Hammer Falling [T-minus 6...]
Uncomfortable only barely begins to describe the situation I'm
in.
Extreme peril might be better.
I'm cheek-to-cheek with Phoenix. Don't know if that's his real
name or not. Probably not, but I've lied about my name to people
before so who am I to pound the gavel? I'm on my stomach, my other
cheek on the rough street, Phoenix is sprawled awkwardly on top of me,
his weight making it a little difficult to breathe. But Phoenix is
not the problem. Phoenix isn't the one making this situation uncomfortable.
No, it's the third person completing our trio.
His name is Sahris. The scythe shoved half a meter into the ground
half a meter away from my nose is his. He put it there. The
foot pressing into Phoenix's other cheek also belongs to Sahris.
"Get the glitch off of me," I say, the words forced.
The voice coming from somewhere above me is oh so calm and oh so confident,
and rippling. "Unfortunate that you ally yourself with this person
reclining so lewdly upon you, my fragile amethyst. Friends are to
be chosen with care. In this moment, I fear that you have chosen
most hastily--and incorrectly."
Phoenix speaks, right against my cheek, his short breath moving across
the side of my mouth, tickling. His tussled hair fills my ear, irritating
my lobes. As he talks, the uncomfortable feeling grows. "Sorry
about this. I really have no idea what his problem with me is."
I want to move my shoulder against my ear to stop that tickling sensation,
but my whole arm is trapped and Phoenix keeps talking. "Bizarre person
isn't he? He's been talking like that the whole time. Formal--and
archaic in my opinion. I'll bet he thinks he's better than all of
us."
I think about grunting a response, but Sahris speaks, suddenly kneeling
close to our faces, but somehow still keeping that boot pressing down on
us. "Your beak opens often, little sparrow, and I am not sure that
you even know what you are saying."
"Oh, I know," Phoenix says.
"Useless words from a confused and frightened mind," Sahris says.
"You disappoint me in the extreme. I must admit that I expected more
from one of your legacy, one who has a tradition to uphold. Why do
you toy with your destiny as if it were that of a child?"
Phoenix speaks to me this time, "See what I mean? Where is he
getting this j'aa from?"
Sharis leans even closer now. I can smell his proximity, the grit
on his boot, the strangely pleasant odor of his breath, the liquid he used
to wash his hair. His sweat. Nothing familiar about any of
that...oh wait...yes there is. One more smell suddenly becomes more
prominent than any of the others. Blood. Its stench
is thick and real. Sahris smiles, looking directly at me, teeth white
and perfect. I get the impression that he is somehow controlling
what I can and can't smell. He wanted me to smell blood.
Of course this can't be true, but that look...that smile demands
a different conclusion.
"The bird and the gem," Sahris whispers, looking at us in turn.
"How appropriate. Two things of great beauty, yet only one breathes
and is alive. But my allusion is not reality is it? In this
case, is not reality the prefect lie? It hides the perfect truth,
does it not? Oh, I suppose both of you would refute a state of non-life
currently, wouldn't you?"
"Well," Phoenix begins, "I was dead once, and I would have to say that
I didn't--"
"You say you were dead, little sparrow? Once? Well,
then you shall be again--by my hand, and by no other."
"Sure, I can live with that, if you'll excuse the pun, but let the girl
go."
I let that comment slip because it's too difficult to talk. Sahris
is really putting the pressure on. A few sharp gravel rocks feel
like they're poking through my cheek. A little longer and I'll be
able to breathe through the holes they're making. Mind flashes to
Aran. He brought some Technomancers with him this time, along with...a
few others. A curious menagerie if there ever was one. Then
again, who I am to notice. I've had wirewitches as companions.
Small ache at that particular thought. JACK. I wish
she was here. I need a hug, and the one Phoenix is giving me right
now is not really doing it for me. I need
a friend a touch
and
Just where the glitch is Aran? I thought he was nearby.
And just where the glitch did he dig up this Sahris?!? I can only
describe Sahris as disturbed--in ways I've seen and in ways I haven't.
What I've seen, I wish I hadn't, and what I haven't, I don't want to imagine.
I think Aran tangled with him earlier today. Don't know what happened
between them, and I don't know why Aran is letting him stick around.
I'll have to query him later.
Of course, my assumption is that I'm going to survive all of this.
Again the tickling is in my ear, Phoenix speaking: "Don't worry I'll
think of something to get us out of here."
A harsh, grating sound. It's Sahris pulling his scythe
from the ground. I watch as the weapon rises, revealing its thin
edges to me a centimeter at a time. No dirt sticks to the blade,
and I can see my reflection looking back. Self stares, holding my
gaze, framed with strokes of blue. The first time I've looked
at myself? It can't be, can it? My image reflected in a
weapon | nopaew
and I don't like it. It's not me. I reject it.
Then the scythe is up, out of my vision, out of sight, but the image
of myself remains.
Sahris speaks, "I suppose you think that I will make this a quick death?"
"It'd be nice," Phoenix says. "I have an appointment with my physicist
in a few hours. She and I are planning on experimenting with the
laws of rela--"
"Oh, I am afraid that I will not be able to oblige you, little flightless
one. I prefer a much different approach to death and dismemberment--one
which I believe to be, oh how shall I put it? Creative.
Yes, that is the word."
"So you're the poet, and you're going to write my eulogy?" Phoenix asks.
"Well said," Sahris replies, spinning that scythe. Whish whish
whish. "Quite right you are."
"How cute," Phoenix says to Sahris.
Wait. Phoenix said something to me also, at the same time
and in the same breath. How did he do that? Wait, what
did he say? Almost lost it there. I think I felt his words
more than I actually heard them, his lips moving against my cheek.
He said: Touch my stomach.
Touch his stomach? Why? How the glitch am I supposed
to do that? One arm is crushed underneath my stomach, and the other
is trapped between us, with my hand sticking out the other side.
The blood stopped flowing to my hand a few minutes ago. Can't feel
my fingers much less move that entire limb. At least, I doubt it.
The scythe has stopped spinning. Sahris is speaking, voicings
thick with a gloating intent. "Red is such a glorious color."
"I like light blue," Phoenix grunts.
"Everybody has a little red inside them," Sahris says. "Show me
yours."
"Oh glit--," Phoenix exclaims.
Straining my eyes I see that he's pulled that scythe back and, oh,
now it's headed down this way, but Sahris moved his foot from Phoenix's
cheek and Phoenix lifts up slightly, and I send the command for my arm
to move, but I'm not sure if it's working, only I felt the upper part of
my arm move and I hear a soft thump, and just perhaps that was my
hand hitting Phoenix's chest, his grunt sounds somewhere close to
my ear, and then I hear a click and somehow Phoenix's arms come
tight around my waist, and then we're rolling over, Phoenix on his back
and me on my back on top of him.
I can only take half a breath because I hear a faint hum and
then my intake of air is cut off, my mouth covered by some invisible veil,
a soft hand only nanometers away, and then there is a shimmering in front
of my eyes and the sensation of a light cloth clinging to my body just
outside my clothes, whisper mufflers over my ears, only one thought through
my mind goes: personal pulse shielding, but my body jerks in involuntary
reaction to that scythe coming down.
curved
death
down
to
me
Scratch off another skinsuit is the ludicrous thought through
my mind as the blade of Sahris' weapon punctures my stomach, slicing cleanly
through my skinsuit first, and then through my body, burying its tip deep
into Phoenix's chest.
Only it doesn't.
Instead, the blade never touches me. It just--dissolves.
Before it comes into contact with my cringing body, the blade seems to
spark and smoke in a violent shimmering. Uncontrolled yell
of shock from my throat goes nowhere but back inside my mouth, echoed through
my bone structure. Sahris' attack was powerful. Virtually the
entire blade is consumed by the thin layer of shielding covering my body.
I think all of the metal would've been destoryed, but Sahris appeared to
pull his attack at the last nanosecond.
Sahris pulls back a stump of a weapon.
Shield down. I can breathe again. I do, in and out. Wonderful.
Moving now, up. Get up! I break from Phoenix's grip
and stand, examine self--cheek and right arm are bruised, large tear
in right hip of skinsuit, glitch, can see some blood there, feel
dirt on face and in hair, but feel okay, hearing that buzz again though--and
I stare at Sahris, trying to focus. Can hear Phoenixstaticgetting
up behindstaticme, mumbling, fumblingstaticforstaticweapons
probablystaticstatic.
STATIC!!
I hurl myself at Sahris, vision blurring, and static blaring in my head.
I'm mad, blinded, and I collide with nothing as Sahris moves effortlessly
out of my path, only felt the barest hint of his cloak on my fingertips.
Missed!
I spin on one foot, gaze back to my prey. I want brutal physical
contact. I want to hurt back.
Sahris' back is to me, so I attack. My hand just touches his shoulder--up
there--and then it grabs at escaping molecules. So fast!
He moves so fast! Then I'm up close and personal with Phoenix.
Couldn't stop, but Phoenix almost gets his arms up in time. He's
holding a weapon. One arm comes around my back. What's this,
protectively? Must be a reflex.
"Back in my arms?" Phoenix asks.
Glitch him. I take a step to the side, the broken embrace.
Turning, Phoenix on my other side now, Sahris is holding the remains
of his weapon at Phoenix, pointing, accusing. His voice is controlled
as he speaks, one eyebrow raised slightly, "You just ruined what you cannot
comprehend. I cannot believe that you did that. You have no
idea what--I am quite upset you must know. I just do not know what
I'm going to do about you, sparrow."
"Uh...oopsie?" Phoenix responds in the manner I'm beginning to attribute
to him. Still, he brought his weapon up, training it on Sahris.
I think there's something lethal beneath his surface, but maybe
that's just the gun he has impressioning me.
"What do you want with us, Sahris?" I ask, barely resisting attacking
again. The static wants me to. I want
to, but...
Sahris lowers his accusation arm and turns his eyes to me. "I
am but a shepherd."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Phoenix asks.
"We're sheep." I say.
Sahris displays teeth in a disturbing smile. "Give the blue crowned
lady a prize! We have a winner!"
"A shepherd doesn't kill his sheep--"
"Ah," Sahris replies, "you understand so little, so very, very
little. You cannot understand though, that is not your place.
Understanding is for the shepherd alone, not for the sheep. Sheep
have no purpose save for obedience. Why will you not obey?"
I'm moving toward him. Static. Not swiftly,
just with determination. I hear Phoenix shift his feet, but he makes
no move to restrain me. He must've seen thestaticlook
on my face. I speak as I walk. "Should not the leader have
the interests of his followers in mind? If he doesn't, he is not
fit to lead."
I'm almost to Sahris as he speaks, "You haven't considered one thing."
"And that is?" Almost.
"What if I simply do not care?!?" And then Sahris releases
his damaged weapon and grabs for me. He succeeds, but I'm ready for
him this time, landing two staticfuzzstaticbuzz enraged punches
in his stomach before he can pull me too close to attack any more.
Pain immediate sets into my fists, but he grunts and exhales, and I see
a look of...shock? Surprise? Pain? I'm not sure exactly,
but I like it. He masks it quickly, but it was there. Caught
him off guard there. No, that's not it. He was expecting
me to assault him, so his surprise was due to something else. But
what? I hurt him? Is that it?
I don't struggle; something tells me that it would be futile.
His hands are at the small of my back, pressing, supporting me almost tenderly,
but his touch is revolting--spiders crawling on my skin--cringe
my natural reflex.
"You are ever so fragile, pretty one," Sahris says. "I must remind
myself, or I would be apt to break you into pieces."
"Let her go, Sahris," Phoenix commands from behind me. "J'aa eater!
It's me you want."
How heroic. Still I suppose it's nice of him. Though
I'm beginning to get the feeling that words are useless with Sahris, wastes
of time and breath.
"What I want is what I want, sparrow," Sahris says. "Do
not presume to know me and my desires! They are my own!"
He sounds angry suddenly.
His hands move up my back and to my neck, fingers all over the place,
then just as quickly back down, and an unzipping sound reaches my ears,
and now I'm struggling as he spins me around, holding me at the stomach
with one powerful arm, facing Phoenix now, oh, I realize that my skinsuit
is open in the back, down to the lower part of my spine, the corners of
the suit at my now bare shoulders, my marked skin visible to his leering
eyes.
He utters a single unintelligible word. To my ears it sounds like
drifting.
But there's so much static that I could've heard wrong.
Then he drops me. I'm still struggling so I land awkwardly and
off-balance. I roll away and manage to stand, spewing every insult
and curse I can think of in my enraged state. He appears distracted,
considering something.
Phoenix rushes to my side, still leveling his weapon at Sahris.
"Should I shoot him?" he asks.
"I should have known," Sahris says, looking at me. "Your people
always manifest themselves without warning. Unexpected, but not unfortunate.
Quite
fortunate in fact, for you and the sparrow. It appears that you
are his salvation today." He turns his back and begins to walk away,
stooping to pick up the weapon that once was. His back is to us,
ignoring.
Glitch that. "Shoot the g'ekk," I say. The static
made me do it. It's buzzing so LOUD I'll do anything to
satisfy it.
Phoenix barely nods, and multiple silverish streaks dart from his weapon.
Sahris sidesteps the first several blasts, but then a single beam hits
the hand holding the handle. His entire arm is flung forward, the
ruined scythe flying from his hand.
He doesn't even pause, but continues to walk, bending to the ground
only to recover his un-weapon once again. And he continues away.
After a few seconds, I stop looking at him, too confused about the whole
encounter to even think about it just now.
Static fading...
I feel cold.
"Here," Phoenix says, "let me help you." Fingers at my back, at
my skinsuit. He's zipping me up back there.
"Nice tattoo. Very, um...nasty."
All zipped up now, I turn to face him. "Where the glitch is Aran?"
"Don't know. I think he went to check on some of those 'perfect
people' he's got stashed over there. Well, at least he thinks they're
perfect. I'm not so sure. I mean, they look normal I suppose--no
extra limbs or heads. Still...I don't know."
"They're not perfect," I say, "just pure."
"Ah, yes, that was the word. Pure. Sorry."
Phoenix surveys the area. "Do you think you'll be okay for a few
minutes? I need to check on something. I'll be back if you
want to talk about all of this Sahris business."
"I'll be fine. He didn't inflict any serious wounds."
Phoenix nods. "I'll meet you over by the Rusted Whale?"
"Sure."
He leaves, moving off to "check on something." I'm alone and by
myself in the middle of the square--The Square In Which (2)syl And Phoenix
Encountered Sahris. Amazingly, the square is fairly unlittered.
Decorative artwork in the direct center of the square is the only item
that sets it apart from the rest of the surroundings. Tall structures--buildings
and the like--tower all around me, dark and heightened unnaturally by men
and women of past and present. Those structures look down on me now.
There aren't as many as there were a few days ago. The riots--can
hear them in the distance and in the not-so-distance--have taken their
toll on the city. Aran told me they've been raging for two weeks
now, unabated and unchecked. No signs of an eye in this mad storm.
This isn't normal. Undirected violence can't last this long.
Nobody stays mad at nothing this long. It can't continue. Can
it?
Riot, the incorrect nomenclature. I think it's become war.
But one with no purpose, and I think that's the worst kind.
The square opens up on one side right onto the docks where the Rusted
Whale rests like a dead giant. No telling how long it's been
there, unused and unusable. What a piece of refuse.
Aran thinks he can fix it. Well, that other technomacer--what's
his name?--thinks he can fix it. I'll believe that when my eyes
behold it.
Suddenly, I want to sit down. Walking over to one side of the
square, I do, next to one of those buildings leaning over me. The
sun, which had only been setting as Sahris attacked, is gone now.
Good, that ball of fire was a sickly red infected with graying streaks.
Resting with my thoughts, losing track of time...
The Bleed haven't made it this far yet. (Shiver)
It won't be too long. I warned Aran and the others, told them what
I saw. Glad they believed me. Of course, I'm not sure it really
matters. I don't think even Aran and those technomancers can do anything
about The Bleed.
As if my thoughts were projected, summoning, I hear footsteps approaching
me. Look up. It's the knight of chrome--my knight of
chrome. Where were you a few minutes ago, oh knight?
Wait, it's darker now, more night. How long have I been sitting
here? More than a few minutes.
The same as before, he's wearing that long trenchcoat. It looks
tired--a few more burns and holes now. His boots clunk and
grind
on the street, crushing rocks into dust.
"Glitch, where have you been?" I say. It came out more forcefully
than I intended.
"Here," Aran says, dropping green food pellets in my lap, "you need
to eat." He stares at me for a second, then at the wall beside me,
pausing, then he sits down beside me, bulky metallic forearms resting on
his knees, compacted wings scraping on the building's surface. His
hair is jagged and all over, spiking downward and upward and out, falling
at random over his firm face, shining red and black in the light of nearby
lamps and explosion fires. He lets out a stilted breath. I
can see wounds still unrepaired all over his exposed mechaflesh, micro-wire
bundles exposed and fluid tubes leaking internally. Recent battles
have taken their toll--the price the warrior must pay.
Food pellet enters my mouth, bitter. "Where were you, Aran?"
His head remains, unturning. "Making sure The Pure behave themselves.
They're getting scared, and their fright is increasing with time.
Every little thing is making them edgy."
"Sahris attacked us. Phoenix and me."
I have his attention now, silver reflecting eyes turning toward me.
"Did he hurt you?" Gray spheres flicking over my body, looking for
red."
"A little, but nothing serious. He was trying to kill Phoenix
though." I tell him what happened, everything. It doesn't take
as long as I thought it would, but I'm more confused about it than ever.
Aran bows his head and closes his eyes when I'm done. He only asked
me a few questions during my telling, and he showed no emotion at my answers.
Not a shock.
"I will deal with Sahris," Aran says silently, after a moment.
"He will learn."
"Aran," I say.
"Yes, syl?"
"Talk to me." My knight.
Aran speaks in low tones at first, his lips moving minutely, methodically.
He tells me stories. He tells me stories of pure humans and impure
wirewitches. Of the conflict. Of Technomancers.
Of the man of string, that horrible abomination. Of the war.
He tells me a little of numbers also--of five and three. Of friends
constructed more of metal than of man. Of the struggle and the
pain. He doesn't tell me everything--he doesn't need to--but
what he tells me pulls a thread of my heart, insistent and full of ache.
Oh,
such loss. I think I'm about to cry. Not for what he told
me, but for how he told me. Can't even really explain that
to myself, but it happens before I can analyze it further. Wetness
on my cheeks. Small streaks only, don't want to be out of control.
Release is brief, but the marks are there, slick trails leading from my
eyes to my chin.
Vulnerable--the two of us in this moment. I saw inside
him a little there, and I'm not sure if he realized what he let me do.
He's tired of it all. I think he wishes he were somewhere else, maybe
even someone else. I saw that. Perhaps some insight
of mine, or maybe it was proclaiming itself boldly. Did it before?
The last time we met? I don't think so. It wasn't that
long ago, but somehow I think we've both been through some experiences
since then. He is vulnerable to me right now, opening up, talking
to me, telling me those things.
I realize now that I trust him. I'm not sure why, but I do.
Had a conversation with JACK awhile ago in which I had come to different
conclusions. JACK thought he was dangerous--to the two of us.
I was probably a little confused at the time. I agreed with her.
Now, I'm positive I was wrong. Oh, he is dangerous to be sure, just
not in the ways everybody thinks. Not dangerous to me. At least
not directly. Still, something inside tells me to trust him.
"Aran," I say when he's finished, "look at me." I want him to
see me how I am.
He does, seeing my tears. What do I see in his eyes?
Those gray orbs peering. How does he see me? What colors
am I painted with in those monochromatic eyes? One day. One
day I will find out. The mystery will be known to me--the mystery
of him.
"What is it, syl?"
"I'm sorry," I say, not knowing what to say, and not knowing why I said
that. Then, before my eyes can release any more liquid, I find
myself scooting closer, snaking my arms beneath his trenchcoat, around
his body, pulling myself to him, laying my head on his chest. Some
indescribable need within me made me do it--some craving for physical consolation.
Somehow clinging to Aran, knowing what he is and what he does, satisfies
that. (Don't try to explain it, just feel it, angel!!!)
He doesn't move right away, but then I feel his arms come up behind me,
against my back, holding me gently, but there's so much strength there.
So much strength held in check, as if cradling a whistlewisp, fragile and
ready to shatter at the faintest tremor. My ear against his chest,
I can hear his inner workings, his heart beating, gears and cogs spinning,
fluids racing and rushing, electronics, and I realize how alien
he is to me. How inhuman.
embrace the Technomancer
embrace the technology
embrace, and you will become
But he's warm and I don't want to let go, because he's holding me, protecting
me and--mind flashes to an alley where...where...where something
happened, what was it? Someone held me and..and...and what?--my
mind tells me not much else matters in these seconds. (Just
feel it, don't try to explain the glitch out of it, angel!!!)
I don't tell Aran anything. Not now. Not right now.
He wouldn't want to hear that anyway. I don't tell him stories.
I don't tell him of the witches of wire. Of the circus and three
dead Dokks. Of the killing. Of a haven and a fallen
Guardian-8. I don't tell him of the clown who haunts me with secrets.
Of
calamity. Of the riots and that dark image on my back.
And of the child, my child. Of my visions of doom. Of survival.
I tell him none of this, because I don't have the words. Perhaps
there are no words for how I feel and what I am. Or maybe I'm just
scared.
I realize that Aran is whispering something to me. I'm sorry.
He's repeating it over and over. What could he possibly have to be
sorry for? Especially towards me? Is he even talking to me?
Doesn't make sense, but maybe he doesn't know what else to say.
"I know," I say, it's all I can think of, the most comforting thing.
I find my eyelids heavy, an effect of the food pellets. The warmness
from his closeness is soothing. I'm sleepy, thoughts dissolving into
blurs, and them I'm drifting off before I can say anything else, but the
image of chrome, my knight remains behind my eyes and the beat of his heart
remains in my ears.
silence....................................................................................................silence
Waking... I'm awake now, in a bed. Where? Ah,
eyes opening, a nondescript room, blank walls except for a single white
door, bare floor, bare ceiling, bed made of metal hastily covered with
a thick blanket, a smaller blanket folded beneath my head. Couldn't
be Aran's bed. Could it? It is made of metal...
Still in my skinsuit, but it's been patched, can't see my skin anymore
through ragged holes. I've been patched too. Wounds feel a
little itchy and stiff, but definitely clean.
Standing, I try to run a hand through my hair, but there are three clips
there, holding my hair back away from my face. I remove one and find
that it is little and shiny and silver. Interesting. My curiosity
is aroused at who put them there, but the clip goes back in the blue tangle
up there where it can do some good.
Out the door I find myself surrounded by purity, all of them gathered
together in this temporary shelter constructed by one of Aran's Technomancer
companions. No sonic shower today, something about the necessary
parts not being available. Ah, glitch.
Outside, the first sickened rays of the sun are beginning to show.
The sounds of riots and battles are not to be heard. Has it stopped?
Doubtful. Probably just a short cessation in this area. Smoke
hangs over the city like a hand waiting to crush an egg. Glitched
smoke.
Aran swoops from above me, landing with an sense of finality, vibrations
from his impact resounding all through my bones.
"Did you sleep?" I ask
"Not last night," he says, his wings folding. Shhhinnk!
"I had a few more problems with a couple of The Pure. Right now,
the wirewitches are giving me less grief. That'll last--as long as
Kreep controls himself."
"Kreep? I don't remember meeting him."
"He's a Technomancer also. He's a little on the wild side, not
to mention unpredictable."
"Unlike you?" I'm smiling.
"No, just like me. But control is a thing constantly struggled
with when you are a Technomancer. I know this, and I deal with it
in my way. Others deal with this battle in...different ways."
He has a slight flair for dramatics, but I find myself liking it.
"So you--"
But my question never gets asked because Aran suddenly looks over my
shoulder, past me.
"Visitors," he says. Even before I can turn to see for myself
he says, "Three of them...all wirewitches."
The three wirewitches are just entering the square to one side when
I turn around. Aran must've known they were there before they were
visible. Technomancer abilities.
"Stay back, I'll handle this," Aran says, pulsing blue lightning beginning
to crackle around his hands. Some new ability? Don't
remember seeing him use this the last time. Of course, I'm not entirely
sure I was watching when he killed that eoa. His wings are expanded,
partially blocking my view of the newcomers. I duck down a little,
obtaining a better look.
Recognition.
"Wait, Aran!" I shout, as Aran moves forward. "Don't shoot."
All the wirewitches except the obvious leader are beginning to change.
Aran's arms are hissing and popping with some blue energy. Glitch!
Going to be a fight if I can't put a stop to this. I'm running now,
ducking under Aran's wing and moving in front of him, he ceases his forward
movement. He doesn't quite walk into me, but I can hear that energy
crackling behind me, oh so near, his wings in my peripheral vision, almost
surrounding me, a blatant display of protection.
"You know these wirewitches?" he asks.
"syl, we have found you at last," the lead wirewitch, JACK, says to
me, stepping forward, leaving the others a few steps behind.
"You were looking for me?" Am I truly surprised at that?
I don't know what I feel.
"You left without warning," JACK says. "We have been looking
ever since."
Ever since? "I--I had to leave, JACK. I couldn't
stay."
JACK looks at me wordlessly, her hairstalks moving to some unknown rhythm.
"You shouldn't have done that. I was worried. When the riots
broke out, I was afraid that you had been killed."
Mind tells me that she switched from using "we" to using "I" and that
should mean something. It does. But I push that down,
avoiding. Looking over JACK's shoulder, my eyes meet with 2-85's.
He's in the form of a weapon, spiked and sharp, but he's recognizable.
Avoid. The third wirewitch eyes me impassively, dangerous
in her present state.
"syl, this is PIIX," JACK says, then, just as quickly, her attention
moves to Aran, her liquid eyes hardening, agitated.
"Aran, it's okay," I say to my knight, and the crackling fades in intensity,
but it doesn't go away completely.
Then the wirewitches are changing back. 2-85 looks exactly the
same, and there's a tugging somewhere inside me, in my chest. Avoid.
PIIX is taller than both 2-85 and JACK, a solitary hairstalk protruding
from her forehead, arcing back, resting over one shoulder.
Wait, somebody is missing--the incomplete family. "Where
is--"
But of course my sentence is never finished. This time it's because
the air directly to the left of JACK is sparking, now shimmering, and then
Kiiziiziixii appears. She brushed her hands through those metal snakes
on her head and brushes her arms, shivering a little. Is that a mocking
smile on her face?!? For what?!? "Hello, (2)syl."
Behind me Aran swears, his hands crackling again, a cold heat fills
the air behind me. Just what abilities does he have?
"How the glitch did you do that?" I say before my mind tells me not
to. The wirewitches aren't shocked. They knew she was there!
Cosmic
glitch!
Kiiziiziixii smile fades. "Sorry, can't tell you that one.
Oh, and I thought I told you to watch your language. You shouldn't
let your tongue run wherever it wishes."
Aran is muttering something behind me, something about not detecting
this (grumble) woman. "You know this lady, syl?"
"Aran, meet Kiiziiziixii."
I can hear Aran's feet shifting. Did the crackling just get
louder?!? "I'm thrilled."
"She saved my life. I trust her." Besides, I still need
some information from her.
"Trust fails us often, syl," Aran replies. "It is a fact you must
accept in this world. Do you actually trust this modie, or
are you just trying to avoid conflict?"
Of course I'm trying to avoid conflict! I want to say.
Still...do I trust her? Truly trust?
"Trust doesn't fail us, " Kiiziiziixii says, "people do.
Maybe you trust the wrong people, Technomancer."
A philosophical debate? At this time?!? What is going
on?
"Or maybe you don't trust enough?" JACK adds.
"Hypocritical words from a wirewitch, but maybe," Aran says, "it doesn't
matter in the end. There are ways around trust--I've found a few
of them. I'm still alive regardless, trust or no trust."
Kiiziiziixii's reply is lost in the sound of a disturbance coming from
the direction of the Rusted Whale. A Technomancer approaching,
moving like a charging eoa. Aran curses, move vehemently than before.
Didn't recognize the swear word, but his tone demands that it be one.
Have to remember that one for later.
"Everyone, stay still," Aran says as he moves to my right--I'm out from
under his wings--and confronts the Technomancer. He hasn't released
his hold on that blue energy pulsing around his hands. A knight
always keeps his weapons online. "Kreep, what's the situation?"
My eyes tell me situation is glitched. Kreep appears to
have all of his weapons on display, razors bristling and arms flexing,
impossibly clawed hands curved downward, blades for arms flashing.
His hair is a blur, hanging down all over, in his face, catching on all
those sharp points plaguing his metal skin. He's shiny and black
all over, red and gray reflections distorted all over his body. My
eyes see his eyes, and I can tell. I know. He's mad,
struggling to contain something which wants out--is clawing to get out--is
going
to escape.
"Wirewitch!" Kreep roars, his voice, small explosions.
The wirewitches behind me are changing. One glance at JACK tells
me she's ready for a fight, her body sharpening. Kiiziiziixii is
holding something in her hand. Can't tell if it's a weapon or not.
She is watching as if removed from the situation. A war hidden
beneath a guise.
Aran holds up his hands, palms forward. "There is no threat here,
Kreep. No danger. There is no reason for--"
Kreep takes a step forward. "Wirewitch!"
"They just arrived, Kreep, calm down."
I step closer. "Aran--"
"Stay back, syl," Aran says, his eye gleaming. "Tell the witches
to move back."
I give JACK the look, and she nods her head slightly. The wirewitches
back off. Kiiziiziixii remains in place.
Kreep is not taking this well. Circuitry glitch, electron pathways
colliding. A blade arm flashes forward, centimeters from Aran's
face. "Why? Wirewitch! Why?"
Aran is a rock. "You have reached the wrong conclusions, Kreep.
Your processors are screwed, and they're feeding you bad data."
"Lie."
"No!" I shout. Situation dangerous--increasing.
"Lie," Kreep says, his blade swinging close to Aran. "Wirewitch!"
Aran is a stone. "There are no others, Kreep. These are
the only ones."
"Lie!!" Kreep screams. "Lie!! Lie!! Lie!!
Lie!! Lie!! Lie!!"
"No," I say again, this time to Aran, pleading. "Don't let him
do anything, Aran. They are my friends."
The blue crackling is pulsing now--ready. Aran's voice comes,
steady as usual. "You must not harm them, Kreep. Go somewhere
else. We will talk about this later, I promise. But you must
go. You will go."
Amazement on my part. Kreep actually relaxes. He's
considering what Aran is saying--somehow the words got through whatever
sanity shields he had up. His face calms, and he stands a little
straighter, not hunched and tormented as before. His arms lower,
non-threatening now. Kreep's voice is different when he tries to
speak with control. "I..."
...storm passing...
...no...
...just the eye because...
...Kreep takes another glance at the wirewitches and his gaze stops
on one of them, wait, what's this? Recognition? Surprise?
Difficult to interpret. I can't get my head around to see which one
it is he's looking at in disbelief when...
...the storm is back...
...yes...
...repressed anger releasing...
...in the form of a lunatic Technomancer screaming the name Ijissa
as he launches himself into the air, over Aran, whose blue lightning fills
the air, too bright, so bright that I'm blinded. Then the mad Technomancer
descends upon me, but in my visually impaired state, I can only see a dark
blur and them I'm pushed aside like I'm composed of air. More blue
lightning and shouts and grunts are around me. Battle, and I'm
in the middle of it. I cover my head, and pray that the metal
giants around me don't crush my head. Movement all around.
Everywhere. All of it close. Foot in my back.
A split second pause in the battle occurs and I roll over, springing to
my feet.
That's when I see JACK, lying on the ground in a pool of wirewitch blood,
Kreep laughing, standing over her, blue liquid dripping from his body in
a thousand wicked rivers.
Continued in [a33]: Blood Sun [T-minus 5...]
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