“I—JUST—CANNOT—BELIEVE—YOU!”
Martha’s voice echoed across the underground halls of her legacy, both inheritance and her magnum opus. Converting a mad scientist hovel into a sprawling labyrinth of the future was no easy task—especially with the time she had wasn’t at all free. The usual trappings of what people would think of were there—the tubes that lined and dug into the cave-like ceilings, the various machines that jutted from the reinforced walls glittered and blinked in idle. Even energy surged about, crackled in the air above, with the coils and rods to catch the stray bolts at the edge of the dark corners.
But all of it was chic. Not one surface was dirty, at least not for long. The floor everyone walked on was buffed, reflective office tilts that were dyed of grey. While they were far away from the lobby, which had nothing but refurbished furniture—a wrap-around front desk with a capable hostess to greet anyone worthy of coming in. Even a breakroom with a nice layout of water coolers and snack dispensaries that Martha was oddly giddy and proud over.
Oh… If only she was ranking her brain over that. And not over the fact that the one thing she didn’t want happen not only did, but has been happening behind her back.
Martha swung her arm as she turned towards her son, “I trusted you! For all of the things I have to keep track of, or create, or get involved with—to the point of suggesting feng shui for defenses against the damned—And I thought—I hoped—that the only thing I didn’t have to think only so much less agonize over was my mature—intelligent—thoughtful son--!”
She only felt the sudden loss of weight, mass.
Martha peered down, to see that her arm’s fallen off.
Her sleeve fluttered gently as she moved what she believed to be a relatively short stump. The small woman saw the metallic white splatter began to stain the floor and had to distract herself from the immediate sadness from that. Following that trail with her eyes, she saw her fallen arm slowly but surely lose its form, turning into a puddle of still mercury.
The small woman proceeded to sigh. It was always awkward to fetch the pills with only one arm.
Nonetheless, Martha reached into her suit pocket, pulling out a silver canister that she could barely wrap her fingers around.
“I could help if you—” Richard finally spoke up, after maintaining silence.
“I feel like you’ve helped enough,” Martha sneered comically, letting the metal can slide down in her hold. “Thank you.”
As her fingers were now positioned around the top of the canister, Martha used her thumb to unscrew the cap, steadily until it popped off. Martha quickly opened her mouth to load the pills, as fast as the soft “ting” of the cap hitting the ground echoed across the chamber.
Reeled the canister back, swallowing the pills whole, letting her head still hang as she felt the increasing mass.
She felt the bones manifest from her stump. The muscles tense around the skeletal structure with a tight hug. Martha always had this… Inclination or quirk whenever she regenerated, to wiggle her newly conquered limbs as the veins neatly weaved themselves and the skin to coat the limb in question.
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Martha lowered her head back. Looking at her hand as it was still metallic-white, which turned into a rather mournful gaze.
“Can you blame me…?” Martha watched as her skin tone flushed back to normal. “To get you far away from any of this…”
“And yet, what you are—and the people working for us… You’re the future of humanity? Wouldn’t I end up here anyways?”
Martha looked at her son, her lips pursed.
“Well, Smart Alec—” Martha still tried to mask her malice with a sugary tone. “The whole point is—was—since humanity doesn’t really take well with sudden change—at least not everything burns with me. At least I’d have you, something that I’ve created and nurtured… At least you can do whatever you wanted without this baring down on you.”
“But I have chosen what I wanted to do, Mother…” Richard rubbed at his forehead, messing up his swiping fringe in the process. Martha had to bite back against shouting at him to fix it. “It’s clear that you’re swamped. It’s clear that you need extra eyes on everything—”
“Honey, you’re partly responsible for a near-successful Terrortide—” Martha rebutted.
“And I take full responsibility for my part to play. I should’ve realized how desperate she was, and how that turns into its own form of strength when they truly have nothing… But that doesn’t change the facts that I’m about to list.”
Richard held out two fingers. “1) You were the one that captured her, forgotten about her... If she was scrappy enough to regain strength through my dealings—she was a ticking time bomb that would’ve escaped somehow regardless. And 2) It was your plan that she stole. A plan that should’ve been under a lot more locks and keys, and even then—must have had the firepower to seal the secret. Discarded plan or not, that’s still information that could be used against us.”
The young boy let his hands fall to his sides. Shaking his head.
“We’re both at fault. Yet another sin that our family managed to wrack up.”
Martha took her son in. Not seeing the coddled boy—that deserved the spoiling and everything within this wretched world… And saw a peer.
And it hurt her.
Martha turned on her heels, looking upward towards the crackling ceiling above.
“They say that the reason humanity was cursed to become Consumed, dealt with the bloodshed we wedged against the Subsumed started to take a physical toll. The exact moment we denied being nothing more than monsters, the actual ones cursed us to take on their hides, morph us into copies of them. Just because we wanted to break away, use anything that we could to survive the harsh winter nights…”
Martha wiped a rolling tear.
“I-I know I talk endlessly about Fate picking on us particularly—how our family were merely protectors against the darkness, proud huntsmen that took Subsumed hide not just as trophies, but fashioned into warnings for those terrible things…”
The small woman rose her arms outward. “And how we’re the haunted. Plagued with sicknesses, terrible luck… Lives cut short. I’m the only one of our family in recent history that’s survived past 40. Everything that I’ve done—and will do, is to free us from this stupid curse once and for all. To cheat death, so both Subsumed and the Fates can go somewhere else—to take the much needed walk they deserved… A-and I get it, you’re such a smart boy—but--!”
Martha felt a much needed hug from behind.
“I understand, Mother. I’ve been understood. That was the other reason, other than me being much darker than you realize… I just want this weight off your shoulders. The Fates love their displays of defiance and this is mine. If I have such a high chance to be damned regardless of what I do—then I’m going to do what I can, versus nothing at all.”
Martha didn’t waste any time. She let herself disincorporate, reform, and is now faced with Richard so she could do her trademark hardy, heartful hugs.
“Oh Richiiiiiiiiie~!” Martha started to blubber.
“Now now, Mother—” Richard patted her back. “We can have a good cry later. Now, we have to plan…”
“Plan…” Martha nodded, then sniffled. “I’m working close with Mayor Huntington in designing the Festival… From top to bottom, this is gonna be the snare that finally catches that girl. The only thing I’m being a total worry wart about is the firepower we have, since our New People supply is now limited…”
“…Don’t worry, Mother. I know some friends.”
Martha looked up at Richard, with a gleaming in her eyes. Her eyes brimming with pride for her beautiful, smart boy.