The next time I was conscious it was at the foot of a stupidly big door with carvings and detailing that old Christians used to have on churches. The drabby overhang of the oppressive grey layering the sky could be seen from my horizontal positioning.I hoped it was a church or something, maybe someone more 'spiritually inclined' like that Pomeranian haired girl who read his cards once mentioned, could shed some light on what the fuck just went down. The sooner these questions get answered the sooner I can come to terms with...
With everything...
I had been running from all of it, and it caught up to me in the final stretch,
All of it so she could keep running...
I couldn't tell myself if what I had done was worth it or not. But even now everything I had done had felt so right until it was so wrong. The chrome, it saved me and my crew so many times yet was detrimental in the end, the unwavering love to someone who would always run with or without me.
My own ignorance and bliss at what was happening around me, I didn't catch the signs, Bex wouldn't have died if I didn't take that gig, hell the civilian who was only there to make ends meet wouldn't have happened to die if my head wasn't stuck on how up life had seemingly turned for me. If I just listened.
But I said I was special.
And every moment that I proved it to myself reaffirmed my resolve to the point I truly believed myself to be built different.
I didn't realize how many bodies it would leave until the only ones who would knock some sense into me were long gone.
The low overhang of the clouds darkening brought me back to my situation and why I was unable to move from whatever I was wrapped in. The feeling of weakness I felt from my, weirdly enough, pudgy little arms made me feel an overwhelming anxiety, I felt unsafe, like I could be put down and walked all over without a way to fight back. It was a wild experience going from giant refrigerators for arms with the cyber skeleton, and even before that Maine's gorilla arms to barely being able to move around in a little raggedy brown blanket, in some sort of basket.
'Fuck I don't like where this is going. What the hell did that gonk do?!' I could only express my rage at the situation by screaming and wailing around uncomfortably. My bitch baby pipes and finally getting my arms free allow me to comprehend what had become of the legendary David Martinez...
'I'M A FUCKING BABY?'
My fury must've been heard by the clouds above as small portions of the sky started to open up with rain.
At least I could take some relief from the fact that someone heard me, at least as a silver lining to the fact that I'm a baby about to be left outside in the rain.
I wanted to seeth, holler, and scream at the universe always raining on my parade, I had no answers and I couldn't tell if I would get them at all. Even surviving tasted bittersweet.
My second outbreak of flailing about in my little crib, burning my tiny lungs, and screaming my heart out brought about another response.
*Screeee...k*
The old engraved, actual wood, door screeched open as a withered and calloused hand worn from work held it open for the figure behind.
*Fss..*
The burning of a smoking cigarette was accompanied by a hollow sigh as I was lifted with my basket and an older seeming nun looked into my eyes, still filled with anger and bitterness but surprised as well.
She seemed warm like a campfire out in the badlands where there was nothing else to turn to. Her caramel-colored skin tone had crow's feet surrounded her eyes which held a depth of care and pity but a sturdiness I had only seen in the likes of Padre. The older sun-toned woman who was most likely a matron of some sort had long auburn hair sprinkled with grays and some silver hairs to attest to her age, kinda like rouge without still dressing like a teenager well into her 70s.
The pitiful softness of her eyes when they landed on me for some reason kicked up another flail of indignation and protest.
She chuckled and continued. "Heh, feisty one ain't ya," she checked me over and sifted through my blanket until a metal jingle sound was heard and a familiar gold chain was pulled into both of our view. She flipped the modernized cross pendant around and read, " 'David Martinez' huh? Well, welcome home little one. Let's go get you into a bath, you reek." A gentle ruffle of my small tufts of black hair and I was brought inside the orphanage/church house.
And for the first time in my new life, a smile was seen on my face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's been 3 years since then and I was now 3 and a half. Ever since that day the Matron, Isabella Enrique, brought me into the slum-bound orphanage I had been observing and grasping a better understanding of my new situation.
My first shocking discovery was the calendar. The year was 2124, almost fifty years after I had died. The second was our location, deep into urban Los Angeles, as I had learned from the other kids here.
Along with something much more alarming. I had asked even Miss Bella but Night City didn't exist, animals and trees, and all other sorts of fauna had miraculously come back from the brink of extinction, and most of America had been reverted back to before so much of it became the badlands.
Over these three years, I haven't spotted a single IDn port or chipped person in the orphanage, still haven't managed to get out before one of the older kids came to get me. It was with them that another insane, asinine, and downright unbelievable revelation.
Superpowers.
Fucking superpowers that just come with age and were seen as normal.
Superheroes and supervillains who I thought were just part of story time truly existed and battled each other. Hell, the whole thing had been monetized just like the corpos would've done back home.
Hero Organizations, associations, hell the government even took a piece and brought rise to national coalitions. This wasn't where I was from. There was no Arasaka to burn, no Militech to steal from, no chrome to chip, but just as many goons.
It was a whole new ballpark, like edge running compared to my life before I started. It sounded so thrilling and mesmerizing to immortalize oneself through power and heroics. But I had learned from my last life, as enticing as the industry seemed, the bad parts would be overlooked until you were just another incident that gets swept under the rug. Even the kids were enthralled in being someone who could use their powers freely and show the world how special they were. It sickened me with familiarity.
My face must've reflected how disturbing the thoughts were to me, as a burning wick of green flame came into view above my small crib and hollered. " Auntie! Davi's getting all gwumpy again!"
'Fuckin hell do I wanna kick this four-year-olds ass.'
I lifted my slightly yet still incredibly pudgy arm up as I promptly flipped the four-year-old off with no time wasted. This Moe Kamiji kid had gotten on my last nerve despite being so much older than her mentally. I mean seriously she won't give me a moment to think without screaming or assaulting my eyes by pushing her quirk.
But the charged toothy grin and returned middle finger could only remind me of Bex. Except this gremlin's love for her flame replaced Becca's love for guns.
The matron hollered from the doorway of her office down the hall. " Leave him be Moe, his ears are probably ringing from your screaming! Now keep it down, I'm busy." *Thud*
I had haggled enough over gigs once I started running the crew enough to know what it sounded like muffled behind a few walls. Especially cheap and hollow ones. What would a matron be discussing cost for? Especially when it sounded like her guest was offering something for somewhere with nothing to give in return.
This doesn't feel right to me at all...