Her grip is still tight on her soul, she doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she knows it isn’t a small amount. It hasn’t healed, not even a little bit. She hopes that’s just her not being able to tell the difference, like how you can’t tell how much you’ve grown until you measure. She has a feeling the senses of her soul don't work like that, but she needs some hope right now.
That doesn’t mean things haven’t changed.
Her soul has taken a strange hue, something like turquoise, with tendrils spreading out past the barrier that defines her, latching onto the surroundings, creating something like anchors. The PAIN is more manageable as well, and she KNOWS that she can’t acclimate, so it must have become lesser. It takes less effort to keep it all from breaking apart too which is great cause she doesn’t know if she could have maintained the effort required for much longer.
She can see the mark now, she’s spent so much time with her own soul it would be hard not to. It’s something like a scar, something like a coil, and all made of string woven together to create a thread. It’s the only material thing in this place, while everything else is half formed, this thing is solid and dense. Packed with meaning and purpose, it is seared onto the surface of her soul, taking up some small measure of space. It is vibrant, a thing of many colors constantly strobing between hues, she could look at it forever, and understand nothing of its purpose. It’s so much bigger than prediction, it is too much to be otherwise, she simply can’t manage more advanced applications with how weak her soul is now.
But maybe someday.
If she survives this.
-
Rania is pacing. Pacing, pacing. It helps her think, helps her when she’s overwhelmed. Helps her when things don’t make sense. The kids came back two weeks ago, beaten and haggard, their Scar friend nowhere to be found, and Alex in a coma, on the brink of death. Rania was sad that she’d see another child die, but that’s the thing, she hasn’t. Two weeks with no food or water and she’s still alive. How is that possible?
“Can you please stop walking in circles? you’re giving me a headache” Elian asks.
“Fuck you Elian, I’m having an existential crisis right now”
“You should just do what I do and stop caring”
“My man, my homey, my brother in christ. How the fuck am I supposed to ignore the biological impossibility right in front of me!?!”
“Maybe bionics?”
“Elian, please, what fucking enhancements do you know of that can do that? And in what world would they have the money for that shit anyway?”
Elian shrugs, “It’s the only thing that makes sense”
Rania struggles not to strangle the man.
None of this makes sense!
-
The little one is growing, she’s in a precarious state right now, no deals can save her if she lets go. He could, but he chooses not to, it’s better to learn consequence firsthand than to be saved from it. Still, it would be a shame if she died.
But if she survives she’ll be so much stronger.
He can hardly wait.
-
He sits in contemplation at what his friend just told him, it’s a…revelation. If anything could be such a thing. He doesn’t doubt what his friend saw, he is not one to embellish on his mistakes, and even if he was, the story is a bit too ridiculous to believe.
But Solomon does.
What it means he does not know, but he needs to find that girl. She could be the key to a world he’s only dreamed of. Then he can make real change.
-
Asato stands next to his son, bandaged and connected to so many wires. The maestros have done their best, they fear him too much not to, and he is not above a few executions if they fail. He is not worried, Takeshi will either live and become stronger for it, or he’ll die. The first is the best outcome, but if the second outcome occurs then nothing of any real consequence was lost. He looks at the slowly rising and falling chest of his son, of the missing arms and many bandages that cover his chest.
Bionic surgery is a convenient tool to expedite the healing process generally, it’s not the wisest thing in the world to enhance something that is damaged, so he chooses to let his son's wounds heal naturally.
A short man walks into the room and bows to him.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Sakamoto-sama, the Daidarabotchi and Maikubi are ready and awaiting your signal”
Asato puts a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Well done Jino” he says “tell them to wait about a week, I’ve gotten an…interesting report from Jason that I want to look into.”
-
The woman’s been visiting lately, sporadic moments during her struggle to keep her soul from breaking. Her form is more real here, Alex can see the chunks of brain and viscera from the missing portion of her head. The forever leaking blood and cerebrospinal fluid, the single eye that looks at everything she is and finds her wanting. She doesn’t say anything but Alex can feel the weight of her soul lighten each time, like a steadying hand keeping hers from breaking.
She doesn't know why, she doesn’t deserve her help. But she gets it anyway. And then there’s her soul.
It’s gotten…strange.
The anchors are finished, stabilizing her in a way she kind of understands? Like those spikes used for tents that she sees every now and again on her shows. But she doesn’t really get how her soul can do that, what’s out there to stabilize her with in the first place?
The tendrils have moved on, forming a spiderweb of connects between all the pieces of her soul, she feels as though she could let go, take a break and rest and it would take time for the tendrils to snap without her hand to keep the damage at bay.
She chooses to continue because she doesn’t know how to get back here. She doesn’t even know how she got here in the first place, so leaving now would just be a slower form of suicide.
She keeps her hold tight
The fact she’s still here means she’s still alive, or at least that’s what she hopes. Her friends are taking care of her, she trusts them with that, she trusts that when she wakes up, she’ll be safe.
And she will wake up.
-
Lost Hopes been pretty empty lately, he asked Clarice what was going on but she just waved him off and told him not to worry about it. She also told him not to leave the Crossroads, which did nothing to help with said worries. Everyone just left, everyone who isn’t a child like him at least, which is most of the buildings people. Clarice has been the one teaching the children that remain, which is funny when history comes around ‘cause she has to say more than two words in a sentence.
Two hands taser his sides.
He jolts up and turns around to find Jordan dying of laughter. He pouts.
{Rude} he signs
-
Michael is hanging upside down over a pit of acid, a man in a dapper suit standing across from him alongside the many surrounding armored goons. “Nice suit” he says only to get a grunt from the man.
“Micheal Dickens” He says “You’ve gotten a little too comfortable with your status hmmm? Think your untouchable because of all that fancy magic, but technology always wins in the end. Now, you’re going to tell me where the nanite core is or i’ll have to cut that rope and let the acid eat you, we wouldn’t want that now would we?”
Micheal laughs “Damn, you’ve got the villain vibes all perfected. They teach that in corpo school? Next thing you’ll ask is if I think this is all a joke.”
The man shuts his mouth with a click at that statement, positively fuming, oh how he loves to play with his food. It’s the perfect seasoning!
He takes a breath then lets it out. “That” he says pointing at the acid, “is fluoroantimonic acid, had to get a special container that it couldn’t chew through. Even you can’t survive this”
Micheal hums, “Can’t is such a stupid word, of course I can, and so could you! If you weren’t such a little bitch.”
The man’s face goes red, “you really don’t understand your position do you? You think you can fight off the wrath of a corporation, magic man? We’ve caught you with barely a strike force. You will tell me where the core is, because you are a coward.”
Michael nods, “Not wrong there, unfortunately you’re not a threat. So there’s no reason to be scared”
He goes to say something, but Micheal feels generous today so he speeds up the process and breaks his restraints, falling into the pool.
It’s pretty meh, he’s pretty sure his eyes have melted, but those are always a pain to heal, the rest of him’s just lost a bit of the dermis, nothing that concerning.
He’s honestly a little disappointed.
He swims up and emerges from the pool, all red and gorey he imagines, ah, he wishes he could see their faces, it would be so funny. He can sense them though which is enough. He gets shot a few times as he leaps from the pool but the bullets do less than the acid. He grabs a helmet and makes his hand bigger, just slightly, so that it can fit in his palm. Then he crushes it, echoing the sound of screeching metal and crunching bone. In the next moment he is behind two others, and his bone blooms like flowers through their spines, digging through them before his hands are cut off.
Oh? That’s a nice sword, fancy.
Bone comes out of the stump and he jams it in the man's throat.
It is a massacre from there, with him jumping between guards, tearing off heads and biting through throats, until the only one left is him and the businessman. He walks up to the man as he scrambles away, at this point his eyes have healed, so he can see the fear on the man's face.
“I get a few like you, you know. They always, always die. That’s what you were sent here for little corpo, someone up the chain doesn’t like you i’d guess, or you fucked up in some way that your company considers sending you to die is only appropriate, I don’t really care either way. All that matters to me is that you burned my clothes.”
The man tries to stand and run but Michael grabs him by the nape of his neck.
“I don’t think I ever caught your name.” He says casually, “a little rude since you know mine”
The man tries to break free from his grasp but Michael only squeezes tighter, making sure to be careful and not break his neck. Wouldn’t do to end this early.
“Baldwin” the man cries “my name is Baldwin”
“Good, good. That’s very good, Baldwin, now do you have a family?”
He hesitates, then nods.
“Tell me about them”
He keeps his mouth shut but a light squeeze gets him talking again.
“A daughter and two sons” he manages.
“Not married?”
“She died two years ago”
“Oh, that’s tragic, so tragic. So what do they do?”
He sniffles and cries “Jasmine’s started her studies just last year, Rorick and Edward are still too young”
“Mmmmh, good. You did good, now I won’t have to kill you slowly.”
“Wait-” his neck breaks with a clean snap.
Michael revels at all the meat surrounding him.