Things weren’t looking good, 30 needed to distract himself. He checked out other views on his screen, views he often ignored.
There in the food court a few refugees were messing with a placebo, stacking up plates as he went through his route. Harmless fun.
Near the entryway a soaking wet man was stopping anyone who would listen, he held a flag that hung limply, a trail of water tracked his mad circles as he paced. Totally fine!
In a balcony near the top of the spine, former reserve members were daring each other to balance on the railing to pass the time.
To him this was all the model for what society could be.
He turned his head right when the current ressy started to wobble. Onto the library.
No one seemed that interested in the books themselves, but they had cleared out space to make a dueling arena. Nonlethal of course. He made a mental note to check this feed out later when he wasn’t busy, it would be fun to watch.
May as well check in on Hailien’s group, how were they doing?
From the view of a television: four figures stumbling about beneath dull red light, dragging behind them a fifth individual, bound but not gagged.
The figures are too quick and he loses sight of them, on to a new view:
Hailien shouts something back at their prisoner. He’s just as tall as her, and both individual’s sizes are highlighted by how dense and cramped these passages have become.
It’s clear they have been traveling for a while. The other three, all exhausted, see Hailien yelling at him, and view it as an invitation to finally acknowledge him.
A third camera angle, more suitable for what is about to transpire: One of them, the larger of the two boys, cups hands to his ears and screams. Clearly mouths the words “I can’t take it anymore” and desummons his Remark, freeing the prisoner, his reason for doing so alarmingly clear.
He runs at their prisoner. The prisoner, suddenly free, holds up a hand in a gesture of mercy.
But then that large hand clamps down on the poor boy.
The cameras don’t pick up audio. He says something and the former prisoner summons his Remark, a massive weapon he wields effortlessly with one hand.
He puts the weapon to the boy's neck, but instead of a decapitation there is a transfer, the boy is now where the prisoner was, and the prisoner is in the boy's spot.
The Remark hangs in the air impossibly for a bit before clattering to the floor.
This is all quite, as the youth would say, confusing. 30 shrugs, chalks it up to Tricks being Tricks, and changes the view before anything else transpires. How was Devon doing anyway?
…
Dive trudged along dutifully, like a good crewmate.
Even with their captive’s never ending rant, he thought he was doing good acting like he wasn’t there.
”The ‘alls ‘ill squeeze in… now!” The man rasped, his accent uniquely interminable. “The ‘alls ‘I’ll squeeze in………NOW!” Dive jumped when the last word finally came.
He signed to Collapse covertly, Hailien had made it clear they were not to talk back to him. “What's he’s saying?”
She frowned. “I think he’s trying to get the walls to crush us.”
Dive certainly hoped not. But before he could respond he scraped his elbow on a rusty pipe.
The sudden pain was enough to make him scream.
His Remark flickered, for just a second. Not long enough for Spratz to escape, but enough to make him smile.
Hailien turned her head back at the sound.
Their prisoner laughed loudly, his constricted body shaking up and down like a fish on land. “It’s ‘orking, it’s ‘orking! You’ll all be crushed.” He tried to push his hands together to demonstrate, but Dive’s Remark presented any movement more substantial than a twitch.
Hailen held up a hand to halt their movement, and then walked over slowly. She positioned herself between Dive and the buzzing red alarm that coated the hallway in red. Her bulk devoured the hue.
She snapped her finger, took out her Remark, and sliced Dive’s hand off.
Collapse was the only one to react appropriately. While she was terrified, Trip looked bored with the whole thing, and Spratz smiled like he had expected this.
Another snap and his hand was back where it was supposed to be.
Dive let out a weak gasp of joy that he knew sounded pathetic.
He was on his own face like a reflex, feverishly letting himself confirm his hands return, leaving tactile scratches frantically, for if he was to stop he had no guarantee his hand wouldn’t be cut off once again.
“You really, really, really, didn’t need to do that,” Trip said, his wide lenses burning bright red. Collapse nodded.
“Ey dont ‘isten to ‘em.” Sprats barked, seeming miles away. “The boy ‘eeds to ‘earn when to follow ‘oders.”
She hooked a finger in Spratz’s direction. It made Dive flinch.
“You have a job to do, keep your focus up and keep your Remark on him,” She grasped his hand, her fingers like the feeling of waves at dawn. “I reversed the damage by snapping my fingers.” She paused. “That was a choice.”
Without any care she brushed Dive aside. “We keep moving!”
They were back to walking in a straight line, wandering a hallway that seemed to get more and more narrow with every step.
Spratz was singing a song now, an off tune one that registered as familiar, but was so hopelessly butchered Dive couldn’t even guess what it was supposed to be.
“Is it hard?” Collapse signed, gesturing at Dive’s razor wire Remark that imprisoned the giant.
“Yes.” It was all he could do to not desummon it on reflex. It felt like clenching your jaw, at first it was easy, but as the minutes turned to hours, you wanted nothing more than to be free of the burden.
And at this point, it was a burden.
“You doing okay?” She signed. Referring, obviously, to the removal of his hand.
“I knew it was her trick. Heard Devon talk about it a lot,” Dive signed back, not looking her in the eyes. “So… I wasn’t scared.”
Collapse didn’t respond for a long time.
Finally she signed back in coldly, “I would have been.”
She left it at that.
Spratz began singing.
“‘Ere comes the casket man with a ‘rand new baskit.”
Collapse understood before Dive.
“Don’t,” she signed, “just don’t react.”
Spratz was luxuriating in the song, stretching every syllable to the length of a stanza.
“‘Watch ‘ow the caskit man ‘ill cause quite a rackit!”
Hailien and Trip kept walking, focused on the goal of escaping this red tinted purgatory. But how? Had they deafened themselves in the last five minutes, why did they show no sign of distress?
“The Caskit Man ‘ooses, you won’t ‘ave to beg.”
Maybe he was the only one who could hear it, what it was really saying. It was a celebration. This man has killed his friend, and he was gloating about it. He hadn’t seen her death, and that made it feel all the more awful. But he couldn’t let this freak get to him. Plunge wouldn’t have wanted that.
“Watch the Caskit Man push a bitch right over the-“
That was it. He yelled something without realizing he did so, and lunged at the man, who in response opened his mouth in a wide toothless grin.
That was when it all went wrong.
The man was free now. Dive had unsummoned his Remark without realizing.
The man touched him and he felt changed. Spratz Remark appeared like a death sentence and squeezed his neck flat. There was something happening to him, something irrevocable. The sword pressed deep on his neck but didn’t cut flesh.
No, he was horribly aware that Spratz could kill him now and was making a conscious choice not to. This was deliberate.
Spratz calmly walked forward and presented Dive like a reward to his crewmembers, pointing forward.
“I give ‘ou a choice you never gave me. Let me walk out of ‘ere and the boy survives.” All three of them were staring not at Dive, yet their expressions were not ones of sympathy, but disgust. Dive couldn’t understand it.
”They… they switched places.” Trip said, obviously not true. He would have felt it.
Dive stepped forward, hands raised.
”What's this about, Spratz?”
He stepped forward again. He needed them to know he was okay. Why was Trip looking at him like that?
…
”Don’t move another inch, Spratz!”
Dive remained in place, expression growing paler by the second.
Spratz walked forward, his steps cautious and sullen for someone speaking so confidently.
“What do you mean?” Dive asked, his face confused, “Spratz isn’t moving at all?”
Heading to Collapse, Spratz reached out with a disturbing familiarity.
Trip stabbed him with his Remark in the legs. He was just trying to cripple him.
Spratz's body went strange and fell in a way it shouldn't have been able to.
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Once it hit the ground, his body and Dive’s both shimmered, and changed.
By the time Spratz laid dead, he wasn’t Spratz anymore. He was Dive. He had always been Dive. It had been a fucking Trick.
Trip screamed and ran to Dive’s body, trying to rouse him. But it was pointless. He had stabbed Dive in the gut, thinking it was Spratz's knee.
Spratz, unharmed, laughed harshly, his voice like buzzing static through the lens of the camera.
With a bow, the ogre of a man walked backwards into the red glow of the hall until the only thing visible were the white pinpricks of his eyes. No one followed him, they were still processing what Trip had done.
The boy's face was a prison of flesh, cratered by zits that would never fade. His eyes glazed and half closed. Trip’s hands hesitated above them, debating whether not to shut them for good.
“Fuck… fuck this… this shouldn’t have been… it shouldn’t have been him.”
There was a hand on his shoulder and he jumped. There was Collapse, trying not to cry. She shimmied to the side and placed her hand in Trip’s. With a solemn nod, they shut his eyes together.
The red light above them flickered, then went out.
They were getting far too used to this.
“Hey, hey!” Trip yelled as Hailien marched forward, “Where the Grand are you going?”
She turned slowly and looked straight through him. “To avenge our fallen comrade.”
From somewhere far away the mad laughter of Spratz echoed. His voice seemed to come from the hissing pipes themselves.
”No.” Trip said confidently. “We can’t- we can’t keep going on like this.”
Hailien cocked her head. “I don’t want him to kill any more of us,” she said flatly.
”Sidetracked.” Collapse signed with urgency. “Kill the Constants.”
”The Constants are powerless and worship a dying despot. The man who killed our friends works for a power that is much larger than Lemure could ever be.” Hailien said, in a tone that sounded to Trip’s ears of boredom. “Have you heard of the one they call The Shadow of the Arch?”
”What?” Trip said. It wasn’t a question for who that was, it was a question directed at the subject entirely. Why did he care? Why was she telling him this? Their friend had just died, what was this monologue?
Hailien looked at her hand, flipping it over and over again. “She has been eying this town for a while, a expansionist without mercy or reason, those two were agents for her, I believe. As is anyone you see with a purple-“
“Dive died!”
“I met her once, she will eat the world if it’s offered to her on a platter.” Hailien continued. It was like he didn’t exist.
”Did you hear, our friend-“
”His killer is getting away. Is that what you want, Trip?” She hooked a finger in the direction Spratz had ran, his laughter now only an echo. “For this man to run free?”
Collapse signed something Trip didn’t see. Like it or not Hailien had his full attention. He looked down at his feet. “I’m done.”
She flinched. Finally something had gotten through that dense head of hers. “We owe it to him, as we do Dive and Stumble.”
Collapse bought out her card reluctantly. There was her former name written in cursive letters, a punch card detailing three years of misery, and there, right in the bottom, Hailien’s stamp, which freed them from their indentured slavery.
The vow they had all made to her, it now seemed more like a debt. Freed from one commitment only to be shackled to another.
”The holes don't owe me anything.” Trip said. “Neither do you.” He tore up the punch card. With some annoyance he realized he should have done this years ago.
He tapped Collapse on the shoulder and gestured towards the body of their friend. With a grunt of effort on the count of three they were able to lift him. Trip grabbing his legs. Collapse his shoulders.
”What are you doing?” Hailien asked.
”Trying to find a place to give him a decent funeral, do you want to join us?”
Hailien said nothing.
“Huh, I guess not.”
One of the pipes burst and gas shot into the air, temporarily blinding Trip. When it dissipated, Hailien was no longer there, though he could hear the sound of her Remark dragging across the harsh metal floor.
”Let's go.” The two of them slowly walked with Dive’s body through the opposite direction, the sound of metal on metal getting quieter until it and the hiss of the burst steam pipe was one.
…
Adam didn’t enjoy being in the placebo’s head.
Killing someone by going straight through their brain was (pardon the pun) a no-brainer. It was straight to the point, the exact level of tact and grace appropriate for an art as disrespectful in its nature as killing. But the placebos head was bereft of all but flesh, no brain or sensory organs. It was horrifying being in there. It was like opening a door, expecting a floor, only to find a bottomless pit.
He zipped back into Devon's hand, her grip always comforting.
“Lets hold back on aiming for the head.”
“What? Why?” Devon said, as she casually sliced him through a charging placebo, the being fell in two neat disconnected sides.
“There’s nothing there for us.” He used the moments before the next attack to observe the now prone placebo. The slicing in half had rendered it harmless, each half lamely lying inert. “Slicing off their limbs, or themselves in half, seems to do wonders.”
She smiled, he felt her gut going into overdrive as its serotonin production was doubled. He didn’t even have to do anything this time.
Wham! A large placebo, two and a half normal placebos tall, dented the concrete with a triangular sign that signaled (in simple pictograms) the consequences of littering. Devon hopped back and threw Adam. He dutifully rocketed through the left arm.
The big one attacked again, this time the impact sent the gravel unearthed by the first attack flying. Adam caused Devon to put up a hand, couldn’t have her blinded.
He came back around to finish the job. The second arm fell off like the limb of a tree before he could attack again. The big placebo yelled and collapsed, its busy eyes now clear and confused. It mouthed words it did not have the sounds for.
”Behind you” Adam had slipped back into Devon's waiting palm.
Her elbow jerked back and Adam went straight through the neck of the stunned placebos, halting its momentum.
Still in her grip, Devon's reach wasn’t sufficient enough to complete the job, so Adam reached out. It wasn’t far, a few inches out from her hand. He severed the neck from the body.
They had gotten their share of the placebos, Tremble was working on her own quota. She was fighting five of them at once, seeming to have no problem but delighting in the viscerality. The ones she fought were full of holes and slashes she created, and yet they still stood.
It felt needlessly cruel, why not kill them fast and quick? He knew Devon wasn’t doing it out of any love, but he appreciated how to the point she was.
”Lets leave her to it” Adam said, “I’m sure there's an exit here. We’ll meet back up with the others, and-“
“Vetoing that.” She gestured at the placebos, still coming out from behind the many houses.
Each one had a piece of string on their person. For some it was tied around a limb, so tight as to cut off circulation, for others it was sticking out of their body, hanging limp as they toddled forward.
The strings were familiar.
He buzzed an alternative emotion to the viciousness she offered. Contentment, living to see another day.
“We let her finish the job, this isn’t our fight.”
Devon exhaled sharply, almost a cough. “You told me yourself I should have killed Clyde when I had the chance.” In her mind, Adam was surrounded on all side by her derison, she wanted him to feel weak in there, outnumbered by her own assurance.
”You went into shock less than a minute ago. You’re in no shape.” He let out a yelp as he was suddenly put to use, his hyper honed reflexes borrowed for a microsecond, “DEVON!”
She paused. They had traveled five meters in a few seconds.
One hand was outstretched, gripping a now whimpering placebo. In the other, she held a black piece of string, a part of Clive no doubt. It went up in smoke in her hand.
“He’s just string now, it shouldn’t take long. I don’t even…” She paused, a sudden dull pain in the head overtaking them both, “-I don’t even feel bad.”
He sighed. “Just don’t overdo it.”
“Easy to do when you don’t have to.” She said in a sing-songy tone.
There was a surge of adrenaline, followed by a surge of dopamine, as Devon went into a sprint, using him to go from body to body, rendering each harmless in one slice or two.
She bounced from one target to the other, always zeroing in on the strings, always succeeding. She was following their trail, going against their current as they streamed out from alleys and crashed through picket fences.
They had gone through four blocks now, the crowd of placebos were thinning.
The next one was a woman trying to bludgeon them to death with a watering can.
Adam was prepared to give her a painless death, but Devon tossed him aside. From a vantage point on the dirt. Devon disarmed the woman, then gently lowered her to the ground, soothing her with kind words before ripping the dangling string from her eye.
The placebo closed her eyes. It seemed to be at peace.
”Thank you.”
“Oh how touching… I’m sure the automaton will appreciate the eternity you resigned her to,” someone said.
A wheezy cough from their right. In a small fenced-in alley section behind a large white house sat what remained of Clive. He was out of his Needle form, making his lack of limbs and empty space where flesh should be all the more disquieting. The remains of a face attached to a bare torso.
“I got to see inside them, you know.” He tried to smile, there was a large part of his face missing, revealing exposed teeth and gums. Every few moments he would cough up string that lit up the grass around him in small controlled blazes.
“If you saw what I had felt, you would have realized that's not quite a,” another cough that shook his whole body. “Mercy.” A part of his shoulder collapsed to the ground like sand, it started a small fire on the grass before being put out by Clive’s remaining hand.
“I did too. They’re not thinking creatures, not in the way we are, that doesn’t mean they’re not entitled to life.” Devon approached him slowly.
”You have a funny way of showing that entitlement,” Clive said, “you killed most of them.”
As if sensing this was a raw nerve he suddenly changed expressions, and scooted closer to the fence he was already close to, until he was pressed into the paint.
“Anyway, you did them all a favor. Did you not sense them?”
”In what way?” Despite himself he was curious. Devon picked Adam up and gripped him hard, a sign that made clear he would be used sooner rather than later.
Clive looked away from them, so the part of his face that was sans flesh was straight on.
“When my Trick took up residence, I was surprised to find there was someone else there. It was a voice that was as much a stranger in that body as I was. It was screaming when I let myself in. Pure unadulterated fear. And that wasn’t because of me, every one of them was the same. They were in bodies that weren’t their own, screaming to get out, and this was when I entered, let me remind you. They were all already possessed, or… someone had possessed them with unwilling consciousness, I’m not really sure. The thoughts I head were not happy ones. Anyway, they’re automatons, but there's someone at the wheel, an unwilling driver who can’t do , and they can’t slow down the bus….” He looked up at Devon and gave her a knowing look. It wasn’t meant for her. “Don’t you feel foolish?”
Grand, he sounded so tired.
Another few steps, Devon's shadow covered Clive completely, “Do you recognize me?”
Clive looked at her, not understanding. “The fuck do you mean by that?”
”Do you recognize me? The night on the pier, the man you murdered?”
He smiled, seeming to get it. “Oh yeah… that was a fun night.” But then he frowned. “I’m confused. You’re obviously not his kid, so why do you-“
There was a crash. Three white fences beyond them, someone had broken through the sky.
The blue of the atmosphere and white of the clouds fell in chunks that frazzled and cracked when they hit the ground. The walls of the neighborhood screens of some kind, an illusion that was now profoundly broken. The dust obscured whoever was responsible. But from Clive’s cruel laugh, he seemed to know.
He hit the ground and laughed. “The cavalry… the fucking cavalry!” he waved with his stub. “Hello there- hello there, you old- you were right, she’s a challenge, your-“ he paused to cough up phlegmy strings, dark and ashy “-your turn~”
With a mad dash of strength he threw himself through the fence like a battering ram. With remarkable quickness despite his lack of limbs he skittered over the next two fences and was en route to the sight of the break in. Devon followed close, under her breath muttering curses Adam heard quite well.
There were words in her brain that only made sense to deliver to Clive. she did not want to leave them unspoken. He felt the speech she had prepared, how every word had been chosen so carefully.
He could see the shape now, it was a large being, like a giant orb with muscular limbs, Clive crawled towards it, but the thing was faster, trotting towards Clive with intent, and revealing it’s identity quick enough for him to scream. They had seen the shape before, all three of them.
Clive stopped his approach. He backed up, terrified.
“Karol… I thought Jeavell would-“
With a massive bloody hand, the beast that was Karol’s Needle form ripped Clive’s head clean off. What remained of his body fell lifelessly to the ground and flamed out into a fine black powder. Licking his lips with a wiry fork tongue, he opened his ponderous mouth, and ate Clive’s head like it was an apple.
Adam felt the words in Devon die along with Clive.
Karol belched, and wiped the black from his lips with a napkin he pulled from nowhere. “Of course. It tastes of soot and ichor, the Needle was wasted on him.” His beady little eyes looked up, he blinked twice. “I wonder Devon, will you taste any better?”