Visiting the hospital never got easier.
For an eternity passed and arthur stood collecting sweat on his forehead and hands and taking conscious breaths alongside a stomach that could be a gold medalist gymnast from the number of flips and lurches it was doing.
he was frittering away time.
But he was swiftly pushed aside. Soon, his cybernetics jerked on as it examined the individuals while free-falling.
"MOVE!!!"
Then he tried balancing with a railing—slip. But his clammy palms had forsaken him and the examination of returned zilch. "What the…" So he shut it off to see again. A Man armed from head to toe was the culprit alongside two others who litter-carried someone to the front desk. And arthur could tell they were less armed than the guards back at the Corporate District, but that didn't make them any less intimidating.
And then he looked at the litter, for the Man had a smirk on his face and was unresponsive despite being rocked back and forth. His only article of clothing was a heavy velvet terry-cloth robe pitched like a tent in the groin region.
So arthur averted his gaze.
But the armed Men pushed their way to the front and brandished their weapons at any man, woman, or child.
"WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY! Our client is stuck in a simulation."
"I'm afraid there's a line—"
"He's a platinum NineLine member."
Then the front desk Nurse immediately called two other Nurses and a droid and they rushed them to the emergency room.
"Hey! That's not fair!" A Man within the crowd barged forward and pumped his fist with fervor. "My Daughter and I have been waiting for an hour. You let a dozen guys go before us, even though we were in line before them!" His clothes had holes and the only person in his immediate vicinity was a little Girl who couldn't be past five with unkempt brown hair that went in different directions, with dandruff and other garbage sticking to it. "I need a doctor—" One of the armed Men pulled out a pistol and cut him off.
And the Nurses and hospital Staff were the only ones who didn't recoil away while everybody else took an additional step or two back, even while distanced. They became big lumps of throbbing neocortexes. The line stretched and curved alongside the hospital's base outside the door with some bleeding into the streets.
"I'll take care of this and regroup." The two NineLine Men nodded and escorted their Client with the Staff and the last Guard remained in the lobby and covered their rear.
"Y-You…can't do this…it ain't fair…" The Father tried to rebel and stood in front of his Daughter.
Then the NineLine Soldier's eyes glowed while looking the Man up and down with a smirk and said, "No cybernetics? And by the look of it, no money either. No wonder you were skipped over so much." In derision, He added, "I almost feel bad for your daughter. she'll have to suffer because of you."
So the Father's face contorted with rage while lunging and before the NineLine Soldier could fire, a blur tackled him.
"What the hell!" He looked where the Father was thrown and saw arthur crouched with outstretched arms.
But no words were exchanged for the brief skirmish turned into a stare-off.
"How the…" He looked back and forth at arthur while hitting his head a few times to fix the optical cybernetics or mind or whatever the issue was before regaining his bearings and pointing his pistol. "Who the hell are you!?"
Soon the lobby found themselves against the wall watching the scene unfold, more out of curiosity than sympathy. The NineLine Soldier took a step back with his gun in hand while crouching and holding out his free hand with fingers spread toward the crowd as if to hold anymore wannabe interlopers back.
"Daddy!" The little Girl jumped from her seat and ran to her Father. But once She landed, her body keeled over and coughed.
"No! Stand back, Sweetie." The Father tried to turn back, but the Guard moved the pistol from arthur to him.
"Do you want to get shot here!? Who told you to move!?"
"Enough." arthur stood upright and positioned the gun back on himself with his voice cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. So ounceless from fear that it overpowered the hopelessness of the situation while assuaging the Father and Daughter.
Then the Gunman's teeth were about to crack apart from the amount of force applied and a hint of a growl was heard. "Do you have some sort of deathwish or something? This doesn't concern you." He stared into arthur's eyes. Defenseless. Nowhere to run with a gun pointed at him. So who could blame him if second thoughts entered? But that's not what was seen. 'Sharp and daring' were the only words upon that steely glare with unshaken pupils solidifying true defiance.
"If you plan on shooting him, I'm getting involved. It doesn't need to lead to that," he kept his hands before him while standing a reasonable distance.
Then, a weight was lifted. The Gunman mumbled something while holstering his pistol and departing, which spurred a domino effect of arthur letting go of his breath and the little Girl racing to her Father in a warm embrace.
So he looked at this with a smile and a burning bosom before taking his position at the front desk, for no one dared move as if paralysis had overtaken them and turned them into scarecrows.
"If you're here for anything mental health-related, we're backed up. For anything else, what do you want?" The front desk Nurse was stapling papers and signing off on forms without looking at who She was conversing with.
"Want to get in front of me?" arthur signaled for the duo to cut him, but the Father declined with the little Girl weeping and shaking in his arms to the point of inconsolability.
And the Father said, "Thank you, but I'm fine. She'll cheer up, I promise. Come on my little Gazelle." He consoled the fretful child and spoke in low tones and picked her up and went outside the hospital and never returned.
AHEM!
"Oh, sorry!" arthur approached the reception desk and asked, "Ma'am, is that a constant occurrence?"
"What?"
"Why aren't people being served equally?"
"We serve everybody, but people who pay more get precedence. We're a business. Are you here for something or to ask questions? You can get out of my line if it's the latter."
Then arthur's lips thinned while biting at them. "I'm here to see my Mother, Igraine Pendrake."
"Ah, it's you, the son." The Nurse finally looked up and quickly logged him in using her cybernetic eye. "You're logged in, but there's a message I've sent to the patient portal. It's important to read it."
"Um, I can't access the patient portal. Can you tell me right now?"
"Give me a minute." The Nurse tapped a few things on the computer and continued, "Ah, you're someone with permission. Anyway, your mother's account is delinquent. You'll have a grace period to return the account to normal standing before we vacate her room."
"By vacate, you mean—"
"Remove her, yes. Instead of worrying about others, you should be more worried about yourself, no?"
Soon sour-faced yet not surprised. It was only a matter of time but hearing it hit him differently.
"I'll figure something out."
"I'm sure you will." The Nurse went back to handling paperwork.
arthur left. But the walk was plagued with fleeting thoughts of money and occasional pangs of guilt and regret.
"You're such a loser that your mother has to suffer for it." "Your mother must be so disappointed." "Imagine her on the side of the road because you couldn't pay a measly bill since you daydream about—"
CRASH!
"Hey, watch where you're going!"
"I'm so sorry!" he immediately assisted the Nurse and picked up the tray of needles and utensils.
"Huh? Arthur, it's you."
"Um! Nurse Joy, how are you?"
"Besides you throwing me to the ground? Fine, I guess." She pats her scrub and dust plumbs off before fixating on him and pushing her black hair behind the ear. "If you or your friend plan on staying here all day, you can forget it."
Then arthur gawkily chuckled and responded with, "I'm sorry. And don't worry. I learned my lesson from last time."
"Mhm." She gathered her things and walked away. But before making it far, She stopped and said, "I'll come around to check on your Mother after doing my rotation. She seems better but there's some cleaning I have to do in her room."
"Is it the usual?" arthur didn't get a response, but he didn't need to. he knew what She meant.
●
"I heard a blonde-haired man was causing trouble in the lobby. You wouldn't know anything about that, right?"
he didn't reach the door before being subjected to a light tongue-lashing. So he scratched his head and took his Mother's pouty face full force. But he lied. he didn't think anyone would believe it, let alone his Mother, but tried anyway. "I don't know, Mom. I wasn't there at the time."
"Mhm." She shook her head. "How many times do I have to tell you not to get into trouble? Come in! Come in!" She outstretched her arms for an incoming embrace, but those few words caused her to cough and her chest to rise and fall rapidly before regaining composure.
"I know." arthur moved to her side and lightly tapped her back.
"You certainly don't seem to listen." She threw her arms around him in a warm hug and kissed him on the forehead. "I love you regardless."
But he had to be careful not to squeeze too hard since her weakness was felt throughout her frame. And She wasn't emaciated, but the intravenous drip was the only form of sustenance She could put down. "I love you too."
Then arthur felt her hand going down his spine while in the embrace. "Is everything alright?"
"Of course!"
So he looked at her when they broke the hug and asked, "How's everything? I saw Nurse Joy on the way here, and She said you made a bit of a mess."
"It's fine. She brought me some pudding, and I didn't throw it up like last time, so She left. But I threw it up after." She looked down at the other side of the bed. "I tried to clean it—"
"Mom!"
"Don't worry." She raised her hands with a slight chuckle. "I couldn't raise my legs. So I had to ring poor Nurse Joy." The chuckle stopped and soon became downcast while finishing her thought. "Pretty pathetic, aren't I?"
"Don't talk about yourself like that. You aren't a burden, especially to me." arthur moved over to the other side of the bed with a few napkins and approached the mess, but it made him question what She ate, for it went so far that the only logical end conclusion had to be chugging seawater.
The vomit was clear on the wooden floor just before the beige curtains. Affixed on the room's walls were bland photos of scenery and the only sound were from the occasional beeps of the machinery.
"I wish I could go outside again." Her wistful look cast out the window.
"You will soon. I promise."
And the sunlight barely entered the room, but the stray rays graced her skin while arthur rose from the ground, "Woah!" His Mother's porcelain skin illuminated like a star.
Soon a wry smile crossed her face and She shut her blue eyes and said, "You're a wonderful son." Contradictory. That came to mind even through the blushing. And obviously, the promise wasn't bought but She wanted to save his heart amidst the fog-like sadness across the room. "Anyways, how is everything?" Then She looked him up and down and whistled. "Not too shabby. Not every day do I see you in a formal get-up. Are there any special ladies you haven't told me about?"
"No! Nothing like that…" he tried to hide his blush, but it only led to his Mother laughing hysterically. "But no, I didn't have a date. It was an interview Mordred set up for me."
"Oh? How did it go? And how's Mordred? I haven't seen him in a while."
"Mordred is good."
"The interview was that bad, huh?"
"It didn't go well, no." The Voices flooded in as the words left his lips. "She can see how much of a failure you are." "A delinquent account and a delinquent son. What a line-up." "She's going to die because of you." arthur pinched the bridge of his nose while leaning on the wall.
"So…"
"If you weren't late to that interview because of your selfishness, your mom could still have a place to get treated."
"Arthu…"
"Poor Mordred might get fired because of you."
"ARTH…"
"Stop trying to be anything but a fail—"
he was blown out of his thoughts with a pillow to the face. "Woah! Mom?" Then he looked at his stern Mother.
"I've been calling you—" She broke into a coughing fit and keeled over.
"Mom!" he ran to her side but was cut short by a raised hand.
"I'm fine…"
For the lagged breathing was coarse to the ear, he stepped back and watched his Mother's health slowly decline day by day. Then something deep tried clawing its way out as his fists clenched.
"Don't worry, Honey. I'm honestly fine. It happens occasionally, but they're helping a lot here." She tried to put a cherry on top with a smile. arthur didn't buy it.
Soon, the enveloping silence weighed on the room and a dropped pen would sound like a boulder crashing from the tenth floor. arthur didn't dare move, as it would solidify the moment and make it all too real and rolling sweat was pronounced and cold when occasionally brushing his shirt.
"Are the voices still bothering you?"
"Huh? Oh…no, it's fine."
"You know you can't lie to me." She sighed and said, "You can't blame yourself for that night. And I don't want you to put your life on hold for me."
"Huh?"
"I appreciate you checking up on me daily. Sometimes, you come by more than once, and I like that. But I don't want to hold you back."
"I-Is…is that what you believe?" Trying to form a response was hard with every word popping up becoming evanescent and rendering him a fish out of water. Then She said nothing and averted and continued messing with her hands and the blanket. "I'll never leave you, Mom. Where you go, I go."
Soon She responded with a sigh and said, "You never listen to me." But She couldn't help but smile and stopped messing with her hands and blanket. "You've always been a kind boy. That's what makes you special."
"It's nothing important, any—"
"I know what you're going to say. 'Anyone else would do the same.' But that's not true. This isn't a kind world."
"You're starting to sound like Mordred."
"I don't approve of stuff He says and does, but a broken clock is correct twice a day." So many lectures from his Mother about being too nice and, simultaneously, not being like Mordred. "Anyways…" Her tone shifted and arthur focused on what would follow. "Has anything weird happened to you recently?"
"Come on, Mom! I thought you were about to say something serious."
"Excuse me? This is serious."
"You always ask me this, and the answer has always been the same."
Then She looked down and exhaled, for it seemed something was lifted off her shoulder while life entered like a dried river being restored from blockage removal. "Well, that's good."
"Are you ever going to tell me why you ask me about this 'weird' thing?"
"Hmm?" She cocked her head to the side. "Is it a crime to check up on my son?" arthur couldn't do much against feint aloofness and decided to drop the subject.
Then the silence set in again.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Why don't you turn on the TV?"
"There's nothing good going on," She said. "And the news isn't any better…"
So he looked out at a sky basked in bright orange and confirmed his suspicion via neurallink. Time moved faster than expected. And he turned to his Mom, who knew—"Don't worry. I know it's getting late. Make sure you get back home safely—OH! And make sure to eat! You're getting far too skinny, young man! And take that suit to the dry cleaners."
Then arthur closed the distance and gave her a firm hug while following it with a kiss on the forehead and said, "If you need anything, just call me."
"It's my job to be the worrywart, silly."
●
"Fucking meatbags."
A cigarette drop followed by a stomp, for it physically irked him to be here, so He moved with supremacy that befitted a stately figure and people moved to make room. They would rather cause a fender bender than hit him.
And even with graying thin hair and wrinkly skin, you couldn't confuse him for a geriatric person. He wore a black leather jacket and jeans with a red shirt. His right eye was covered by an eyepatch. He walked to the front desk, but a blonde snatched his gaze—a young male leaving while helping an old female down the steps.
AHEM!
Then his lips curled while looking down at this female.
But the nurse wasn't paying attention and asked, "May I help you?"
"Who was that male?"
"That narrowed it down for me."
"The male. Blonde. Dirty suit."
"Arthur?"
"That's his name? Provide me more information."
"I'm not at liberty to give that out. Patient confidentiality and all that."
"How much?"
"How much what?"
"How much for the information?"
"I'm sorry, I simply can—"
"One thousand."
"Sir?"
"Two thousand."
"I can't—"
"Five thousand."
Then she bit her lip and looked back and forth from the Man to something on her desk just out of view before deciding.
●
arthur cleaned the glass pieces in his bedroom that nearly tore his feet and washed his hands before his stomach turned on him.
"Where's the canned chicken?" So he rummaged through the cabinets within his small apartment, which could house a single individual and any additional occupants would be packed like sardines. It was oddly enticing when he was first shown it, the chevron flooring sealing the deal. There was no television or furniture. But it was enough for him and he couldn't complain until the food became undetectable.
So he opened the nearly empty white refrigerator with the plastic brushing against his hand when swinging the door and opening the crisper drawer. "Ah, there it is!" And the cold air revitalized him while stiffening his dress shirt.
But he mentally backtracked so his mind couldn't wander to the interview and turned the worry toward Madam Bathory. "Where could they have gone?" he knew it wasn't unusual for kids to up and leave—his best friend, Gawain, did it back at the church—but he couldn't get rid of the burgeoning concern. "I'll look for them after I eat."
And he opened the can with the salt smell filling the air while the steel cover was pulled to the side to display the chicken—stringy like spaghetti. he prepped and washed a foam plate, adding water to the few drops of dishwashing soap in the bottle while shaking it until suds formed. Then he cleaned until a message dropped into his neurallink that couldn't be ignored and immediately popped into his vision.
MESSAGE FROM THE OFFICE OF THE SHERIFF
CITY OF SODOM
EVICTION NOTICE
Mr. / Mrs. Arthur Pendrake
This is your FINAL NOTICE regarding a WRIT OF EVICTION obtained by TILDEN FUNDAMENTAL IMPRESSIONS III APARTMENTS LLC for possession of 545 CORAL CT APT 2A. You must vacate the premises by 9:00 a.m. overmorrow.
he couldn't finish and swiped it away. The Sheriff's seal letterhead is still as clear as day in his vision. Soon the plate fell and he slumped to the floor with everything distancing from him.
"Looks like you'll soon be homeless." "No job, no home, and soon, no mother either. How sad and pathetic." "You'll be panhandling like that homeless man you just helped."
"H-How…" The word was roadblocked initially before careening out.
Then he went through his call log before tapping a name closer to the bottom. The phone rang twice before a sharp voice on the other end was heard.
"Yes."
The response caught him off guard before finally getting his feet under him. "Um, y-yes, is this Miss Stahl?"
"Speaking."
he exhaled and continued, "Yes, this is arthur of room five-forty-five—"
"I know, mr. pendrake. What can I do for you?"
Then, ignoring the curtness, he said, "Ma'am, I was just informed that I'm being evicted in two days."
"Yes. Is there a problem with that?"
"Yes." Unable to hold back heat, he said, "Isn't there a process to these things?"
"Usually, there is a court summons and some days to vacate you. However, you can't even pay rent; what makes you think you can fight this in court? I simply cut out the pussy footing and had the judge sign off on the eviction notice. Save everyone on time."
"I was only a few days late, and the rent price increased without my knowledge, but I was in the process of coming up with the money."
"Would've, could've, should've. Late is late, mr. pendrake. I even provided you with two days to leave. I didn't have to do that. Now, if you don't mind, I'm extremely busy.
"Wait! Can you at least tell the neighbors to turn down their music—"
"They pay their rent. Now, good luck to you." The call ended.
"Where are you going to stay now?" "You try to help others and can't even help yourself." "You are nothing. You'll never be anything more than a delusional person with aspirations bigger than themselves."
arthur couldn't take all this. So knees to chest while rocking back and forth with shaking hands from looping thoughts nestling within the forefront of his mind. "I-I'm so-so s-sorry…" For sorrowful tears fell while trying to figure something out, but the rising and falling of the chest was accompanied by a pang that threatened a hole in his heart to form and grow and consume.
Then his mind soon turned sharply and entirely from his apartment to when he was a child in a burning building. A remembrance that took zero energy, for the smoke still lingered in the nose and mind and didn't leave until a knocking at the door startled him to reality.
"Huh?" he looked at the door before wiping his face and standing, hoping it was anyone but the sheriff's office, but only darkness came from the other side of the peephole. "Is it night already?" It couldn't have gotten that dark in the span of his arrival, cleaning, and cooking.
And the door seemed large until he swung it open and met something larger—an older Man staring down at him.
He was large and rugged, like a biker gang member with a no-nonsense face. This wasn't someone he'd hang out with, but he swore they met somewhere, even if it alluded him.
"arthur pendrake." It was more of a statement than a question—a formality on the checklist. But there was something off about His voice. It was robotiking.
"Um, yes, that's me." Then his body pulled him down before his mind could, as an explosion burst from his apartment room alongside a temperature increase similar to an open flame with an immediate and violent gush sending debris in all directions, for the building, above and below, crashed and people fell through.
So arthur's eyes widened as the Man's outstretched arm had a contraption sticking from the top that went back in place, followed by a kick that sent him a foot into the air before eventually landing in the Man's grasp, where he was lifted casually. "GUH…" his feet dangled, trying to shimmy out of the chokehold but it was unrelenting. And he tried to punch and kick, but that was also fruitless, for flinching or pain wasn't registered like a mosquito or fly attacking a lion. "W-What…do you want…" he barely managed to get the words out while being robbed of air, for it was like being underneath a hydraulic press—crushing you out of this world.
Then the Man pushed through the apartment like death itself while carrying arthur like a sack of potatoes and dragging him through all types of wreckage: rubble, glass, and canted pieces of debris stabbed into his body.
But arthur cared more about the chaos in the background. Some alarms blared and people ran up and down the hall with palpable commotion while he was alone with this berserker, which wouldn't be long-lasting since he slipped in and out of consciousness due to asphyxiation. "He has heavy cybernetics…"
Then the Man finally acknowledged his existence and lifted and slammed him against an existing wall that hadn't initially caved in from the explosion.
"Hgggh." his face reddened with air entering his lungs. But now his body screamed and rattled and before a single thought could enter, an immense force weighed on his back and nearly bisected his spine.
Soon the Man rummaged through his pockets with no words spoken, for every action was vacuous and served a purpose.
"W-What do you—AHHH!" he was silenced when the heel pressed his lumbar. But a stench caught him off guard before more registered. And unfortunately, he was familiar and resonated with said stench. Rancid: burned hair, bad barbecue, and melted plastic all accumulated and amplified tenfold. So distinct and unforgettable. And he followed this trail to the explosion's epicenter, where his upstairs neighbor was dead and burning with body parts missing and his eyes cooked within their sockets. Then his stomach lurched as vomit and bile threatened to spring forth, for even his guts were in his throat.
Then the Man knelt and pulled arthur up by his hair, but no yelps or cries were heard for numbness dulled him.
"Why'd you kill them? Why'd you kill those people?" he slipped from the Man's hold with a few hair strands missing. And anyone would've capitalized on that moment to escape or launch a counterstrike, but he stood there with resolve burning and whatever foreboding feeling burgeoned that instructed his instincts to make a break for it, his heart sideswiped it.
But the Man wouldn't allow this and reached into his back and pulled a handgun with a barrel longer than normal and unwieldy for anyone other than him. It was a smooth, black matte and didn't seem to have a pistol slide but had a silver ejector port on the side.
"So you killed them for what? What could've been so valuable that you'd think so little of human life?"
"You have intestinal fortitude, I'll give you that. It was their fault for being weak. If their fleshy bodies couldn't handle a grenade, it's on them. Just like this will be on you." The trigger was pulled before arthur could rebuttal and so he moved to the side. And sure the upper receiver being knocked back was deafening, but the weapon's carnage was even more so, for the spot where he once stood had a decent-sized cylinder that tore through the ground and exposed the apartment to the first floor. The Man didn't move a single inch and blew the smoke from the gun and said, "The indicator on my tracker says you have something of mine. I prefer to get it back in one piece for the full prize. But I don't mind half the reward if you cause me too much trouble."
Then the pain throughout arthur's body refused to be ignored, with quivering legs and his vision going from blurry to clear to blurry again.
Soon the Man shot twice and he evaded both.
"Hm." The older Man looked at him more intrigued than angry, almost like a science experiment. "My neurallink says you have basic cybernetics. So, how can you evade my bullets without any enhancements?" He put the pistol back.
But before arthur responded, the Man appeared before him. "So fast!" he couldn't even process a reaction before quickly getting grabbed and lifted. "¡¿ƃuıop noʎ ǝɹɐ ʇɐɥʍ-ʍ"
And He looked around arthur's body but not the gawking one would have for someone they liked—no, this was menagerie-esque and involved inspection and investigation, yet nothing was found. But the blow that nearly knocked him out came so fast and unseen that pain hadn't registered. So he was lifted and slammed to the ground and was instantly put near unconsciousness from blood secretion frothing from the mouth, for trying to lift his arm or keep his eyes open took everything.
Then the Man put a hand into his left and right pocket while arthur could only watch, pronely, until the Man held a silver coin and examined it with his cybernetic eye.
But out of nowhere, a small explosion hit him in the face with enough force to assail arthur's body. TIC—the silver coin fell and rolled several feet away.
"That bitch." The Man blew away the plume of smoke around his face. And his head didn't fly back nor was his skull misaligned, for the only damage sustained was the upper part of his clothing that was torn to shreds and exposed cybernetics. He completely ripped that off and displayed muscles that put arthur's to shame, for there was no more room to grow. god kept pouring the mortar and never turned the machine off. So statuesque and heavily marbled that the only place to see such physiques was in a museum, as the paper-thin skin possessed vascularity and striations with a Christmas tree back and feathered triceps, while the subcutaneous cybernetics made it guesswork if the machine or muscle was denser, for the ground cracked and waned with a cry for mercy with each step.
Then the Woman appeared. "Wait!" Silver. And it was the silver you'd never forget, especially after slamming into the Man at speeds most tracking neurallinks would be ineffective at capturing. But was She also here for the coin? What was so important about it?
And the Man didn't budge and smiled as if courting the attack to put it in its place. Soon a battle between an unstoppable force and an immovable object ensued.
"Should've known you'd get here first, you chrome dome freak!" Her attack was halted and She pushed off to fire more rounds. But all the bullets did was irritate the Man as they fell off like rain.
"A female with a foul mouth. Make fun of my cybernetics all you want meatbag, but your weakness will never disappear." He stretched his arm and a contraption lifted from the top.
Then arthur screamed while wide-eyed, "GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!"
But She was already ahead and got out of the line of fire while the rocket hit another part of the room and blew away a good chunk of the building with arthur's limp body blowing further away and almost launching completely out to his death. "GRRR~~" So he squirmed from the edge with his begrudging body while a clash ensued that he couldn't crane his neck to see. Yet from the brief grunts and banter, it didn't sound good for the Woman.
"Damn…why do I have to be so useless…I couldn't save them back then, and I can't even save them now…" His teeth clenched so hard that they threatened to break while being taken back to his younger years.
Fire and smoke flowed to every corner of the building with flames bellowing from the windows.
"Daddy!!!" He tried slamming his fist against the inflamed door, "OW!" And instantly retracted it. But every exit was blocked off with debris, smoke and fire.
"AHHHH!!!"
"HELP! Please! Someone! Anyone!"
The screaming scratched his covered eardrum and carved its way into his psyche while seeping into his mind and causing tears to seep down his cheek. But the few seconds of respite from using his hands to drown out the suffering were stolen by the strangling smoke. Then…He couldn't hear anything. All the sounds but the crackling flame had vanished.
And happiness fluttered through his heart.
But the smoke within the room collected up top and slowly crept down while He watched it move toward him like some living thing with a mind. "Umm…" He didn't want to play tag with it and backed away and got a clear image of the room.
For in the corner sat a knight upon a fiery piece of furniture, undisturbed and gazing at him while ash circled like a storm.
"mister? Are you not hot?" he didn't move or respond and sat amidst the continuous hell throughout the apartment.
BAM—the door violently broke with a man walking with burn marks, soot, and even dabbles of blood littering from head to toe and in between coughing fits, he managed to say, "Son…are you…there?"
"Daddy!" He flung his body with all his might and his heart raced while tears fell on his already rheumy face and met with a sootblacked shirt. For his Father, those tears must've felt like bullets.
So they embraced within an engulfing apartment. But it didn't matter as they wanted to hold one another to ensure this moment was real and they felt safe. Safer here than outside. Safer here than anywhere.
Then his Father breathed and held him tighter than ever before as if He would slip away and be gone forever with the beating heart heard within the embrace. Soon they moved when creaking and falling debris were too much to ignore and He nearly leaped into his Father's lap and stared around.
"It's okay, Son. I'm here now. Let's go!"
"Where's Mommy?"
"She's outside waiting for us."
"We have to get the man first."
"What man?"
"The man in the room with me. See…" He tried to point but the knight vanished and the spot flamed with floors crashing through each other and the room growing ever hotter.
"We have to go!" His Father threw him over his shoulder as the duo made their way through the burning building. But it didn't take long to run into dead and burning bodies that had fallen and become eternal vigils sprouted within the mind with their ash and smoke becoming votive candles for Arthur. "CLOSE YOUR EYES, SON!!!"
But his plea fell on deaf ears and Arthur couldn't help but ask, "Why aren't they moving, Daddy?" But getting no response, He yanked on his Father's shirt while piggybacked. "Daddy!"
And subdued crying reached Arthur, who saw tears flowing down his Father's daubed cheeks, mixing soot and grit until becoming one and besmearing his face.
"Why are you crying, Daddy?"
Still, no response came and He also cried and continued to look at the corpses left behind in that burning building that seemingly burned alone and forever against the vale of tears.
His Father raged, raged against the light of the fire until no longer.
Tears and tears. Then and even now, he could never forget the tears lost that stung and swelled his eyes.
"It's over now, you irritating female."
Still unable to turn his head, his heart raced. "No no no no no no no no."
So his body and mind incanted no alongside every molecule, cell, tissue, organ, and even his very being gnawing in helplessness… except his heart whispering—whispering to do something. The only thing that hadn't turned on him yet. "I can't watch them die like last time…like Father…"
Then this opened the dam for the Voices to flood: "she'll die because of how useless you are." "You even lost her coin." "Look at your new home. You couldn't even protect the building. Now, more people are dead because of you."
But his heart pleaded and combated the mind and body which railed vehemently against him. "god…please…let me save her at least…"
And something deep responded and surfaced. Soon a blue aurora light subcutaneously rose with energy returning and swirling within his palm while time and space converged within the epicenter and a handgun sprung forth. "What is this?"
The handgun had significant weight, for it was white and blue and of decent size and length but nowhere near as long as the one dodged not too long ago. It was unlike anything he'd seen. A one of one. So clean with sharp edges along the side and with the felt sensitivity of nascent power teeming through of a sleeping giant ready to be awakened.
Was his prayer answered? he couldn't think about that yet.
So he turned to the fight with the silver-haired Woman grounded and on the verge of being pancaked by a foot.
"Oh?" The Man looked at arthur, who didn't think far enough ahead to know what to do. So his finger was at the ready with no plans to pull. What if he accidentally killed him?
"Shoot him, you idiot!" Sprawled out on the ground, the Woman pointed and screamed, "Kill him!"
But he didn't listen and kept the weapon leveled.
"Where did you get that?" The Man's eye wheeled through the weapon. "I can't even get a read on it." He briefly mused before a name was audibly heard: 'Luce.'
Then the Woman saw the wasted opportunity and maximized it by latching something on the Man. And it beeped, and the beeping got louder and louder.
"Wait!" arthur watched her run toward and past him before jumping from the second-story building to the ground. "Take that off of—" Before he could warn the Man, the thing exploded and engulfed the entire floor with a blast that sent him out of the building and into the air.
Soon the handgun turned into motes of blue light while the light emanating from his skin died down, and a tingling sensation crawled up his back and jolted him. But this was all insignificant to the feeling of falling from the second-story building with fire on the heel.
So the last thing he remembered before blacking out was the ground racing toward him, then the silver-haired Woman looking down upon him. And after that, nothing.
●
The city's light penetrated the black cloak yanked over it with the ferocity of a rushing sun while monolith buildings stood and attracted those worldwide like femme fatales with glittering jewels for a skyline that pushed against its desert surroundings in a constant standoff.
Truly impossible to sift through the cacophony. But if one did, they could hear a faint cry—a cry from a young boy.
"I'll…save them…I have to…"
The rain beat him down while stumbling through an alley with the neon luminescence from the high-rise buildings reflected on the rain-swept lenin cheeks and sootblacked tattered clothes that weighed and limped him to the open road.
Then the suffocating air rode his chest up and down and up and down again, all the while holding himself up by the building's side while his little heart beat itself out.
So much has happened that he couldn't process it without throbbing in anguish. Yet he couldn't remember.
Who is he hellbent on saving? What even happened?
Soon his thoughts distanced and became further disorienting and confusing when attempting to cast his mind back, akin to dunking one's consciousness in and out of water with each submergence drifting him further and further from clarity.
It was an exercise in futility to keep trying.
It didn't matter. A feeling was all he needed.
So refocusing on the police sirens driving by and bumrushing them with flailing arms like some madman while yelling, "Wait! I need help!" But they didn't stop. Now on the main road, he looked and looked, but no help was around.
And the signs around him were unreadable, for it was an endless row of open stores with the signage inextricably coalesced into a neon concoction.
But he refocused and tried catching up with the police while the world grew in ever-sharper distinction and quieted with all sound leaving through the backdoor for even sirens fleeing from him grew distant with every step and whether the world moved away from him or him from the world didn't matter even though he swore it narrowed as darkness encroached on reality's four corners.
Then he about-faced but was met with the same ordeal of everything distancing like he were the epicenter of a catastrophe, for darkness was the only welcoming host.
Soon he ferried himself into the void and fell to his knees while raindrops hit and he punched the ground, for whether it was rain or tears from his cheeks was anyone's guess. "AHHH~~~!" And he grasped his head and fell backward with rain still dousing the cold, coarse, and wet sandpaper sidewalk. His only greeter.
But he'd been here time and time again, and even amidst discombobulation, this felt familiar and akin to muscle memory while never softening, for he didn't know who he was trying to save yet knew it was someone.
And the burning sensation within his heart ignited with a want to rise but couldn't. Not emotional or mental limitations—no, this was like trying to sit up with a mountain on your chest.
"Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why!!!"
For moiling zapped his energy and rendered him stupored—stare into the night bereft of stars. Dark, depressing, disquieting.
Then People with no faces or mouths or features of any kind crested out and niggled with an uncanny stalking dread and prowled within the darkness in single file while just behind was an emerging object fast approaching—a familiar careening giant glass wall that he couldn't pinpoint where he'd seen last.
"No! No!" The Group stood in their implacability as if death wasn't looming. "WHY ARE YOU STILL STANDING HERE?! RUN AWAY!!!"
Still waiting for movements that never came.
"Why…are you doing this to me?"
But no cries or shouts could reach their ears if they had one, and soon the wall shattered, the People and then him. Consciousness slipped and the ground swallowed him whole with the eternal darkness drifting him like some vagabond seeking refuge upon a comforting bed.
All of a sudden, his right cheek grew hot.
●
arthur grabbed his right cheek and nearly knocked the silver-haired Woman out while She woke him.
"Wake up!" She smacked him.
And this was enough and a red handspread streaked across his face. "It's that same dream again." His hot cheek then settled in. "Why does my face sting?" As he touched it, "OW!"
"That was the only way to snap you out."
But the words didn't register like they were being filtered through water. Yet, he was grabbed by the silver hair and recanted what he said. To call her cute and beautiful wasn't justice enough. For her lush platinum-blonde hair waved gracefully, and doubly for her movements with skin as white as freshly fallen snow through which you could see veins and circuitry. A beauty people would kill and die for.
"Hey, dipshit. Do you fucking hear me?"
"Huh?" he was driven out of his stupor with a hand wave. "Oh, sorry!" Then he looked side to side and was met with wreckage, for you could smell the age of the building. "Where are we?"
Vines reached the ceiling and wrapped around the entire exposed ventilation system and foliage sprouted through the floor's crack with light streams making their way through the broken windows and illuminating the rising dust and particles while mounds of grit and metal shavings piled on the outskirts, and very few boxes remained, one of which arthur tried sitting up from but his body ached and groaned.
Then he was stricken with a thought. "Wait!" he looked at the broken window and then opened his neurallink.
8:33 A.M.
"No no no no." arthur covered his mouth and backed up with his neurallink providing another notification:
Notice: You have ten missed calls.
Soon he couldn't hear anything until a loud "Huh?" dragged his attention. She cocked her head to the side and asked, "What's wrong?"
"How long have I been out?"
"Oh." She placed a finger on her chin and thought briefly. "Half a day at least. It's morning now. I went out, did a few things, and you were still drooling on that box. Don't you have a neurallink? Or is one of those that works with only WiFi?"
Then arthur looked down and saw water spots along the box's top. But all he could do was brush his hair back with both his hands. "Nearly a day wasted…"
"Cheer up, cupcake." She jumped up on a box and ceremoniously extended her arms. "This is my warehouse. It's pretty safe for now. That includes from post." She sat on the box, leg on top of leg.
"Post?"
"You don't know who post is?"
arthur shook his head.
"He's the one that blew up that building and the one YOU FAILED TO SHOOT WHEN I TOLD YOU!!!"
But he ignored that and the look levied against him. "Oh," he reflected and his body became sore again. "I don't know what his deal was. He found me in my apartment and looked in my—"
"For this?" She pulled out the coin and started playing with it. "I realized I dropped it somewhere and started triangulating its location. That's when I found you. I guess post was doing the same, but I thought I killed the tracker when I nabbed it—"
"Nabbed it?"
"Yup!" She said, popping when enunciating the 'p.' "I stole it from a corpo."
His mind rushed a mile a minute. "I'm an accomplice...much less a theft done to a corporation!" he looked and was about to ask something before…"GUH!" he found a knee lodged into his gut and keeled over while gasping for air like an asthmatic. "w-why?"
Then She kneeled over him and slid the coin back into her pocket. "What do you know about the coin, and what was the deal with the gun bullshit?"
Soon he knew what this was about.
"How'd you do it?" She said and stood up and crossed her arms while resting her weight on her back leg. "You don't show signs of having any cybernetics besides a shitty neurallink. I didn't even know those versions were still around. So, what's your deal?"
Cough—arthur inhaled a handful of dust through his mouth and coughed, "Who are you?"
"You're right! Let's exchange names." She flicked her hair before stating, "I'm Gwen. I'm an operative of the Rising Tide. And you are?"