In honor of the greatest detective across all timelines, who closed her final case on September 30th 2024, and inspired thousands to follow their dreams, including one insignificant hobby writer.
-Rusted Time-
“Inside! Inside everyone! Quickly! It’s going to storm soon!” The old lady in charge of the orphanage called out as the other workers went out and rounded up the children, and ushered them inside the old worn down building.
The children weren’t allowed to venture out past the road in front of the orphanage, and the small dirt yard filled with dying grass and weeds. Any who did were punished severely when they returned, so few did.
One of the younger kids clearly wasn’t happy with their free time being cut short, and tried to hide behind a dead tree. It only worked until everyone else had funneled inside the door, and the old lady marched off the porch to look for them.
“Sucker.” Mary laughed to herself as she watched the kid get dragged inside by the ear.
Ms Betty had a ridiculously good memory, and would mentally check off kids as they went by her. The best way to get out without her hunting you down is to already have gone through the door and been checked off- she would know, considering she’d tried sneaking out more than every other kid combined, and had gotten caught a majority of the times.
Mary grunted as she pulled herself through a broken window on the abandoned third floor, carefully avoiding the sharp glass fragments, and clutching tightly to the rotting frame. Carefully she lowered her right leg to a thin inch wide protrusion of the wall, that separated the third and second floors of the building, and took advantage of the crappy mortar that had chipped down over the years, to wedge her fingertips between the bricks and slowly shimmy her way to the east side of the building.
There were other, way less dangerous ways of getting out that she had found over the years, but those were just as likely to get her butt beat with a belt by Ms Betty, and her food share withheld for the next few days. And if there was any day she wanted to avoid getting caught, it was today.
Besides, what was life without a little thrill every once and awhile?
She grinned as she finally came up to her target, an old maintenance ladder that was supposed to lead up to the roof, but that no one had used in years, for fear that the ancient thing wouldn’t support a grown man’s weight.
The orphan girl stuck her tongue out in concentration as she grabbed ahold of a rusty handle, and carefully pulled herself around the 90 degree edge of the building, from her rather precarious position on the tiny ledge.
She couldn’t help the wide grin that split her face as she settled firmly on the ladder, and began hastily racing down it.
Oh, it’d only been a week since she last snuck out but that was already way too long! What should she do today to celebrate?
Steal food from some of those fancy stands down on Rurh street? That one pasta restraint was always throwing away cheese without any mold on it, just because it was “expired”, she could probably rummage around through their dumpsters a bit to find the good stuff, without the owners noticing and chasing her off! Maybe she should swing by the red light district and throw some rocks at the prostitutes? That was always fun. And if she was already in the area, she could try her luck pickpocketing those rich losers who went there all the time! It’s kinda surprising what guys won’t notice when they’re busy shoving their-
Mary yelped in surprise as one of the rusted through rungs snapped under her weight, causing her to slam her chin on another rung as she dropped, which also broke, and sent her falling from the second story to the hard ground with a horrible crash.
But don’t worry, her landing was cushioned by the very soft metal trash cans she smashed her head against.
“Nailed it.” Mary coughed, wincing as her side flared up in pain. She held up a hand in victory and grinned, revealing bleeding gums and a crooked tooth.
Her perfect escape now complete, it was time to go and do whatever the fuck she wanted to celebrate!
…Which she would do the moment everything stopped spinning…
“What’s all that racket!?” Ms Bettey shouted from the front of the building.
NEVERMIND! Mary leapt to her feet from her place on the crumpled trash cans, and began a very unbalanced sprint away from the crime scene.
-Rusted Time-
“THIEF! STOP! THIEF!”
An overweight shop owner ran down the street in a panic, and Mary had to stifle a laugh as she watched him run right past her.
“Wahda shuker.” She giggled as she popped another piece of chocolate in her mouth, and slinked further into the alleyway.
The place was old, run down, dirty, strangely damp, and smelled faintly of mold, but no one ever ran her out of here with a broom so it was an A+ choice in her book.
She slumped down against a rusty old dumpster, and proudly dropped the fruits of her labors on the ground in front of her- a ratty yellow towel that unfolded to show off some strawberries, three balls of hard chocolate, and (get this) a whole cupcake! All stolen during her jaunt around town.
The world applauded her with the boom of distant thunder
The orphan grinned and eagerly dug in.
“Man, adults who can work jobs and have money to buy stuff are lucky.” Mary griped through a full mouth as she popped a ball of chocolate in her mouth, and licked her fingers of strawberry juice in one go. “This is the best shit I’ve had in years! It beats Ms Betty’s stupid carrot stew a hundred times over.”
Bruised strawberries, slightly stale bread, and cheap chocolate disappeared from her impromptu picnic blanket, until all that was left was the cupcake. The wrapper even said it was “birthday cake” flavored! And it came with a perfect little candle on top!
What was it that the nerd back in the orphanage was yapping about yesterday? Something about how smell could ruin the taste of food?”
Mary took a deep breath of polluted air that smelled like stagnant water, cigarette snubs, industrial smoke, and rotting fish. Meh, honestly the orphanage smelled worse whenever rain overflow pushed sewage up their faulty piping and into the bathtubs.
Mary took a bite, and her eyes lit up as the fluffy bread melted in her mouth, and she felt something sugary crush between her teeth. It had sprinkles baked into it!? That was totally sick!
She sighed blissfully as she leaned back against the dumpster and savored the taste of the cupcake. She put effort into getting this, so she was going to milk the moment and make it last as looong as possible.
The second bite was just as sweet and savory as the first, but was completely ruined by the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Oh hou’v botta be fhiding me.”
Mary’s grip tightened, and she almost crushed her cupcake before she got herself under control. She flicked the candle off the top, and forcefully shoved as much of the cupcake into her mouth as she could fit. She managed to hastily get about three fourths down her throat before a group of three young men rounded the corner.
The group was grimy, wearing beaten up clothing, and looked exactly like what they were- a bunch of young dumb delinquents, who were out to make everyone else’s lives more difficult.
One was fat, one was unhealthily skinny, and only the one in the middle was reasonably in shape. In fact, the only reason he wasn’t the tallest was because of how slouched over he was. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of a worn-out jacket, its edges frayed from years of use. His hair was messy, hanging in uneven strands over his dark-ringed eyes.
He was a stereotypical spit-wad through and through, and the moment his eyes landed on Mary, his face lit up in cruel glee.
“Runt! Buddy, what are you doing running around these parts? I’m pretty sure you’re out past your bedtime.” The boy laughed in a friendly tone that was painfully fake. “And what’s this? You even brought us some food. How nice!”
“Fuck off Frankie.” Mary sneered and protective clutched her cupcake to her chest. “This is mine, I stole it myself!”
“Ah-Ah, you know the rules!” Frankie wagged his finger. “None of you rats go through my roads without paying for it.”
“And what if I tell you to fuck off and die, huh?”
“Then things get physical, and no one wants that. We both know that’s never gone well for you.”
“I remember giving you a black eye last time.”
“And I remember thinking you were going to bleed out when we finished with you.” Frankie’s grin became more strained. “Come on, Runt, you’re a smart girlie. I see you fiddling with broken machines from the factory all the time. You’re dumb but not dumb enough to start round three in a fight you can’t win.”
“...You’re right.” Mary admitted after a pause, licking her lips. “I’m not dumb enough to start a fight I can’t win.”
“Good! Wonderful! That saves all of us time and effort!” Frankie laughed in relief as he clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together hungrily. “Now if you’re eating all that, and not saving anything, that means you must have a pretty penny extra to stockpile. Just hand it over and we can-”
The moment he stepped in range, Mary lunged and slammed into his chest shoulder first. The two stumbled backwards, and she carried the momentum to jump and slam her head into the underside of his jaw.
The wannabe thug was completely caught off guard, and Mary took the opportunity to start laying into his chest with the hardest punches her preteen arms could throw. This close, the older boy’s longer reach was a disadvantage! At least, that’s what she thought, until he clocked her in the face with an elbow hard enough to make her stagger back.
Frank lunged for her, but she ducked low, swinging a wild fist that caught him square in the gut. He grunted, but didn’t stop. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up, right into the path of his fist.
Mary jerked her head to the side, ignoring the chunk of her hair getting ripped out, and sank her teeth into his arm, drawing a yelp as he recoiled in shock.
“You fucking BITCH! I’m going to fucking kill you this time!”
“Not if I beat your ass first!” Mary spat out a glob of blood and skin.
Frank whirled to the two boys watching from the end of the alley with dumb looks on their faces. “Moe, Bill! Why are you just standing there like dipshits!? Get her!”
The two were startled back into reality by the shout, and began running over to turn the fight into a 3v1.
Mary, stubborn to a T, wiped the blood from her split lip and rushed them anyway. Moe and Bill hesitated in surprise, which gave her the opening she wanted- a snarl tearing from her throat as she flung herself headlong into the fight. Her fist connected with the fat one’s jaw, a solid punch that snapped his head to the side, and for a brief moment, triumph flickered in her chest.
But the skinny thug was quicker. His fist slammed into her ribs with the force of a hammer, sending a shockwave of pain through her body with a horrible crunch of her rib. She staggered but refused to back down. Instead, she snarled and threw a desperate punch at his face. It landed, but poorly- he barely winced. He swung back, and his fist collided with the side of her head, making her ears ring.
She hopped back, trying to get distance, but Frankie’s boot caught her in the spine, and sent her tumbling forward- right into fatty’s fist.
She was bleeding, aching, her lip split, bruises blooming across her arms and face, but every time they knocked her down, she scrambled back to her feet, teeth bared, eyes wild. Her punches were sloppy, her body weak, but her sheer refusal to give in made her dangerous. She punched, she clawed, she kicked, she bit, she spit, but it didn’t matter. They were older, bigger, and there were three of them- which was one more than she had fists for. It wasn’t long until they overwhelmed her.
The skinny one caught her arm, twisting it painfully behind her, but Mary writhed like a wild animal. She rocked her head forward and slammed it back into the boy’s face hard enough to make her see stars. He cursed, loosening his grip just enough for her to whip around and aim a knee at his groin. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t clean, but she didn’t care. Anything was fair game.
Unfortunately, anything was fair game for the thugs as well, and the fat one tackled her to the ground and pinned her arms to her sides in a bear hug. The other boy crouched down, and the two of them dragged her up, between them, kicking and screaming.
“We got her, Frankie, fuck her face up!”
Each grunt was to either side of her, both had one of her arms gripped tightly to their chests, and had a leg holding down one of her feet. No matter how much she thrashed about, she couldn’t break their grip, and both were out of range of a convenient headbut.
“You really don’t know when to give up, do you, runt?” Frankie asked as he sauntered up, looking awfully cocky for someone with a rapidly forming black eye and a bloody nose. “You really need to learn how to stop picking fights you can’t win. Like fights with ME!”
He reared back and hit her square in the jaw with a haymaker that sent her vision spinning.
“Come on, where'd all your fire go, huh?”
Wack
“I thought you said you were gonna beat my ass!”
Smack
Mary struggled to get free, but she was completely held down, she couldn’t even raise her arms to shield her head as Frankie punched her right in the face over and over.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Crunch
Mary’s head hung limply after the twelfth hit, and a ragged string of coughs splattered the front of her shirt with blood.
Fingers dug into her skull and yanked her up by the hair to look Frankie in the eyes.
“If you’re eating all this shit without saving any, then you’ve clearly got a pretty big stockpile of more somewhere.” He punched her in the gut. “Tell us where it is, or I’ll start breakin’ bones!”
Mary grimaced and motioned for mercy with her restrained hands.
“You gonna be a good gutter rat, and show us?” Frankie asked, and when she nodded, he let go of her hair, letting her head drop limp.
Mary glared up at him through her bangs, and took a deep gasp of breath before she reared her head back and puked her guts all down his shirt.
The three boys all stopped laughing, with Moe and Bill looking at Frank slack jawed.
The bully stared down at the vomit painting his entire front in shock. “You…”
“What? You wanted me to show you where the food was.” Mary quipped, looking as smug as someone could be with a broken nose and bile dripping from their busted lips.
“You- YOU FUCKING WHORE!” The boy screamed as he slammed her in the temple, his face red as a tomato.
Mary’s vision went black for a few seconds, and she didn’t even realize she was being pulled out from between the two lackeys until she felt herself get thrown onto the stone ground.
She weakly lashed out with a fist, but a foot caught her in the chin and cracked her head against the ground.
Fists and feet rained down on top of her, and every desperate attempt to fight back only made them hit her harder until all she could do was huddle herself into a ball.
The beating didn’t stop. Even as one of them pried open her arms and began shoving his hands into the few pockets she had to look for valuables, there was always at least one of them kicking her.
“Fucking useless!” Frankie roared as he kicked her hard enough to break a rib. “No money, no food, nothing at fucking all! You should have just said so from the beginning, you deadweight whore!”
But Mary could barely make out what he was saying, because her head felt like she was ten feet under water, and all her limbs seemed to be made of lead.
“You’re a fucking useless waste of time and space!” Frankie told her as he kicked her in the gut again. “You’re trash and you belong with the rest of the junk that gets thrown away.”
Six different hands grabbed her in painful grips and lifted her into the air.
Mary struggled faintly, and even managed to get one last weak elbow into Bob’s groin, before they threw her into the dumpster, and slammed the lid closed above her.
There was some muffled cursing from outside, and the dumpster rattled as someone kicked it for good measure, but after a minute or so the voices faded into the distance, and Mary was left alone. Well, not entirely alone, there was something nibbling on her shoe that might have been a rat.
The thin pricks of evening light that gleamed through the rusted holes in the dumpster lid, fuzzed over and multiplied, before contracting and spinning above her, as her vision faded in and out. That was probably a sign she had a concussion, but she also wasn’t a doctor.
Fuck, if she was a doctor, she wouldn’t be at the bottom of a dumpster.
With gritted teeth, Mary pulled herself off the wonderfully soft mush she had landed on, and sat up. Her body screamed at her to stop moving, but she was well accustomed to ignoring it by now. Instead she kicked the rat(?) away with her foot, and lifted the lid up above her.
One of her fingers really didn’t like the pressure being put on it, but it was a part of her body, which meant it had to obey her- just like the arm, and ribs, and various other parts of her that were violently protesting against being used.
The lid opened with a creak, and Mary rolled over the lip of the dumpster with an elegant grace that ended with her landing shoulder first onto the hard concrete ground.
“Th-That’s right! You better run!” Mary spat a glob of blood in the direction the thugs ran off in. “Don’t come back or I’ll whoop your ass!”
She flicked a middle finger down the alleyway, before limping over to the thing she had been enjoying before she got the shit beat out of her for no reason.
Her poor, half eaten, birthday themed cupcake was smeared across the ground as thoroughly as the time she saw a bird get mulched by a windmill. A shoeprint was stomped right in the middle of the mess, and the candle was off to the side laying in a pile of mud.
Gingerly, Mary lifted the candle up, flicked the dirty water off of it, and held it up to her face.
“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear Mary, happy birthday to meee…”
The young girl finished her sad song, took a shaky breath and blew out the unlit candle.
“I wish for someone nice to adopt me.” She whispered under her breath and pressed the small candle to her forehead, the cold wax bending between her fingers from how tightly she gripped it. “Please, give me a good family, that’s all I want. I even got a candle this year, that means this works as a wish this time, right? R-Right?”
Something wet rolled down her cheek, and she chose to believe it was just more blood.
-Rusted Time-
The clock ticked endlessly.
Tick Tick Tick
Hundreds of clicks, unending, deafening, directly behind her ears.
Tick Tick Tick
Hours, minutes, seconds, milliseconds.
Hours, days, months, years, centuries.
All just time, all measured equal.
Tick Tick Tick
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Around her people were yelling at one another, but their voices were muffled, muted, drowned out by the clock.
Tick Tick Tick
Louder they shouted, but dull they were, unable to pierce the fog that had settled on her mind.
Tick Tick Tick
But that was how it always was, for what was the slow and grinding march of the present compared to the yearning ethereal abyss that was eternity?
Tick Tick Tic-
BAM
“I WILL HAVE ORDER!”
Tempora jumped in her seat as a heavy gavel was slammed down repeatedly.
“It is almost as though I am surrounded by children!” The man at the front of the room boomed as he put down the gavel, his voice shaking reality itself as he spoke. “This is a court of the High Born, is it not? Act like it!”
“But sir-”
“NO! I will not embarrass myself any further by listening to your petty squabbles!” Aeon, oldest of the gods, first of the concepts, and head of the Highborn Court, scowled in contempt. “Either act befitting of your chair in this court, or I will have you removed. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y-Yes sir.” The other deity stumbled over his words, bowing his head in submission as he sank back into his seat. “I apologize.”
“Oh. Right. I’m in a hearing.” Tempora blinked slowly as she remembered where she was, the High Court, the meeting place of gods and deities. “...Joy.”
The courtroom hadn’t changed at all since its creation hundreds of centuries ago. It was still just as pompous and gaudy as the day it had been made, with enormous golden pillars that held up an immaculate marble ceiling covered in flowery golden etchings that formed the shape of a sword with a crown for its hilt- the emblem of the Highborn Court.
The walls were windows of crystal that stretched from floor to ceiling, giving an unfiltered view into the depths of space, the planet they were in orbit above, and the three moons that circled with them. The central star of the solar system lit the room better than any candle, but the harshest of its light was dulled by the glass so as to not blind the weaker deities.
The floor of the court was shaped like a bowl, with rings of seats that slowly rose in height the further from the center they got, with stairs made of gold and silver that made a spider web leading from the center of the room all the way to the exit.
Each “chair” was more of a booth, each unique, completely customized to whatever the tastes of its occupant. The oldest, most prestigious gods, formed from the core concepts of the universe, were at the center.
Aeon, the personification of balance, and the twin sisters, Ordae and Entropa, personifications of order and chaos, were at the very middle of the room. He sat in a throne, with the sisters’ seats flanking it.
Meanwhile the younger and less important, a concept was, the further out in the rings they were made to sit.
Which was why Tempora, the physical manifestation of Time given form, third concept to ever be created, daughter of Aeon himself, and directly in line for the throne if anything were to happen, was seated at the very edge of the room, as far away from the center as possible.
She sighed and leaned back into her bland, completely unchanged, chair. The ticking was still there, it would never go away after all, but now it was distant, no longer crushing the world beneath its weight.
This meeting had been going on now for exactly 5 hours, 37 minutes, 21 seconds, 56 milliseconds, and 4 picoseconds, but it felt like ages.
“If no one else has any concerns, then I would like to move to the final part of our hearing, and call up our Ambassador to update us on matters happening on the surface. If you have something you want to bring up, this is your last chance.” Aeon said, glancing around the room to see if anyone else would speak up. “No one? Good. Let us proceed.”
Aeon brought down his gavel.
Across the room from Tempora, a young woman stood up from the furthest possible ring, from the only other chair in the entire room that wasn’t customized in any way. She was a pretty little thing, with a clean face and pink lips, she had long brown hair that stretched to her back, blue eyes, and wore a fine silk dress of the purest white.
She was pretty, but that was it. And for it, she was completely out of place.
The woman clutched a stack of papers as made her way down the stairs, earning scoffs and pitying looks as she passed by, and it only became more apparent just how out of place she was the further down she went.
Clothes woven out of crimson flames, skin that glistened like diamond in the light, miniature stars used as hair pins, impossible figures adorned with the clothing that just a scrap of would be worth more than the entire treasuries of the greatest nations on the world below.
These were physical manifestations of the universe that could reshape themselves however they wanted, that could stylize themselves to perfection down to the atomic level.
Meanwhile the ambassador was just a girl. Just a human given grace.
The only mortal ever allowed to step foot in the halls of the gods, in fact.
The young woman fidgeted nervously as she finally reached the middle of the room, and Tempora couldn’t really blame her. Standing before Aeon’s throne was intense, even for her.
The oldest concept looked down at the Ambassador with disinterested eyes of glowing coal, and skin of polished marble. His beard was made of permafrost from before the sun first lit, his white armor was forged of metal plates that each weighed as much as continents, and the jewels on his golden crown sparkled with miniature galaxies.
“Go on.” He said softly to the girl. “Tell us what all is happening down there.”
“O-Of course your majesty.” The Ambassador bowed deeply before beginning her speech. “The realm of mankind has begun their week-long celebrations for The Day of the Eternal Throne, and all of the churches devoted to your court are soon to be flooded with visitors, with even the least known member’s seeing respectable attendance. The High Priest seeks to outdo the celebration of every year before, so you can expect a drastic increase in prayers and offerings, even compared to usual.
“Good news for once.” Aeon hummed. “More substance is always nice.”
Tempora tuned it out and went back to locking herself away in her mind..
“Orc activity has been gradually increasing over the years. They’ve been shattered since we sealed away their god centuries ago, but recently-”
I don’t care.
“The humans beyond the ice wall are still fascinated with the strange metal tools they’ve been making-”
I don’t care.
“Tensions between the inner and outer kingdoms are reaching a breaking point, and there is talk of war on the surface between the rings-”
I don’t care.
“The current High Priest has announced his search for a successor after an impressive 513 year tenure-”
1. Don’t. Care.
“-It would seem that troubling times are upon us.” Aeon spoke with confidence, his voice booming as magic carried it across the room. “However I am certain that we will persevere without issue, as we have every time before. But, it would be helpful if we could all pay attention!” Aeon boomed, and Temporal jolted in her seat.
But when she looked up, his anger wasn’t directed at her. No, instead he was glaring lighting bolts at the person right next to her.
Tempora’s arctic blue eyes slowly slid to her left, to Mischief. The newest concept to be given form- so new, in fact, she hadn’t even decided on a name.
She was petite, with a lithe, agile frame for slipping in and out of places unnoticed. Her hair was a strange shade of red shifted in the corner of your vision, always changing, never quite the same twice, like a reflection in a rippling pond. One moment it was a vibrant fire, the next it was a subdued rust, then a hot pink, then so dark of an ember that it might as well have been black.
The young concept sunk down in her seat- some horrible amalgamation of neon colors shaped vaguely like a flamingo, trying to hide herself as every eye in the room turned to focus on her.
“I understand you are the newest to step foot in our ranks in over a century, but you will hold yourself to STANDARDS in my court, or you will not hold yourself here at all! Do I make myself clear!?”
“...Y-Yes sir.” The girl whimpered meekly, though the room ensured everyone could hear her.
Tempora didn’t care, as soon as she realized Aeon wasn’t talking to her, she immediately zoned out again.
Lulled back into the daydream, back to the ticking of the clock.
She could feel it’s call,
Time doesn't care, it doesn't shout or get angry, it just flows, unmoving, unchanging, until the stars flicker out, and the last living thing takes its final breath. Until time was all that was left.
Tick Tick Tick
-Rusted Time-
An ice cold raindrop landed in her ear, causing Mary to jerk awake.
Her joints popped as she pulled herself to her feet, and her clothes were ripped out of the dried pools of blood that had weakly glued them to the ground.
“Shit!” She hissed as she stumbled and caught herself on a wall, her head swimming like a fish being flushed down a toilet.
The sky was completely dark above her, but she had no way of telling how much time had passed since a thick blanket of angry dark clouds stretched across the sky and sealed away any trace of moon or stars.
Mary cursed under her breath, and deliriously stumbled out of the alleyway and into empty streets. A light drizzle fell from above, pitter pattering as it hit the stone.
A shiver ran down her spine, both from the cold, and from memories of past experiences. She was out too late, and a storm was about to hit, she needed to get inside NOW. She was too far from the orphanage, she wouldn’t make it back in time, and the insulation sucked there anyway. Instead she pivoted and started jog-limping towards the massive metal spires that blocked out the horizon.
“The factories are good. The factories are warm. Just gotta get inside and slip past the guards.” Mary said to herself, just to have something to hear and concentrate on besides the increasingly frequent thunder.
Within minutes, the rain thickened, turning into a relentless downpour that pounded down overhead as the girl hurried down the street. The sky darkened even further, and sheets of icy water drenched everything, soaking through clothes and plastering hair to skin. Her pace quickened, footsteps splashing through growing puddles as the rain hammered down.
It wasn’t long before the city’s notoriously bad drainage system was overwhelmed, and the streets began filling with standing water like they did every year during storm season.
But that was fine! It didn't matter, because she had made it to the factories.
Coming up to the side of a massive abomination of concrete, stone, and metal, she raced up the repeating metal grates of the fire exit, and climbed up to an emergency door that was a faded rusty red.
Putting all her speed into a charge, she slammed into the door, only to bounce off with a freshly bruised shoulder.
“It’s locked up!?”
She pressed her ear against the cold metal door, and strained her ears, but no matter how hard she listened she couldn’t hear the endless churning of machinery. She looked up, and squinted her eyes through her fingers at the smokestacks. She could barely make out anything in the storm, but when a bolt of lightning illuminated the clouds, it didn’t highlight any of the massive billows of black smog that was constantly churned out into the sky.
The factories were shut down. The factories never shut down.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Mary jostled the handle, and rammed her bleeding shoulder into the seam of the door, a few more times, trying to force it open. “NO! Fuck!”
A horrible crash of thunder from a nearby lightning strike shook the ground and startled her so badly that she slipped and had to catch herself on the railing. She gave up on the factory and rushed back down the stairs with a limp, her feet splashing in icy ankle deep water as she got to the bottom. All the houses were built above street level, and had stairs leading down from the doors, specifically because of how often it flooded this time of year- all the streets were used as impromptu bayous to hold water.
Mary raced through the empty streets in desperation, frantically trying every door she passed, her hands slipping on the slick handles. Her eyes darted toward the windows, scanning for any low enough to smash and climb through, but it was futile. Every entrance was sealed tight, the entire city boarded up, hunkered down to weather the incoming storm. She cursed under her breath, knowing her frantic search was only wasting precious time.
And that’s when Mary saw her.
Through the pounding rain, barely visible in the misty gloom, a woman stood in the middle of the street. Mary froze, squinting through the downpour. The figure was difficult to make out, but what little she could see made her blood run cold. The rain couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to phase through her, like she didn’t even exist, or part around her instead. She was bone dry even as the world around them began to flood and drown.
The woman’s hair was a glowing cascade of brilliant gold that seemed to catch the faintest glimmers of light, and waved ethereally in the wind. But what truly stole Mary’s breath was her eyes. They were molten gold, glowing like embers, and casting a faint illumination around her as they moved slowly, curiously, across the empty street.
Then, without any reason to know Mary was there, the woman turned and locked eyes with her.
Mary's breath caught in her throat, as those burning golden eyes pinned her in place, like tacks securing her to a board, making her feel utterly exposed, frozen under their unblinking gaze.
Then the woman smiled, those bright eyes quirking in hidden amusement, as she turned back around and walked down the empty street, skipping through the knee deep water like it wasn’t even there.
“H-Hey! Wait!” Mary called out, her voice barely audible over the wind and rain.
But the ghostly woman didn’t stop, and so Mary chased her.
The rain was falling from the sky in sheets, now, she could hardly see her own hand stretched out in front of her, and the weight of the water threatened to push her exhausted body to her knees. But she refused to give in, and plowed her way through the nearly waist deep water with the same stubborn tenacity that had saved her life just as many times as it had nearly killed her.
But no matter how hard she pushed her beleaguered legs, the woman was always ahead, barely visible through the sheets of rain, always just a few steps beyond reach.
Every time Mary blinked, she seemed to vanish, slipping into the mist like a wisp of smoke, only to reappear further away, at the very edge of her vision, slipping around a turn, or into an alleyway. The harder Mary pushed, the faster the woman moved, her glowing golden eyes flickering briefly through the rain before melting back into the storm.
“HEY! WAIT UP! DO YOU HAVE A SHELTER!?” Mary’s shout was drowned out by the storm.
She followed the lady, banking her survival on the faint hope that she was headed to a shelter to escape the storm. She followed her out of the city, up onto higher ground, and past warning signs that had been flattened by the wind.
But instead of a shelter, she was led to another part of the city’s endlessly cannibalizing industrial projects.
The industrial excavation site was a mess of muddy chaos under the relentless downpour. What had once been a carefully cut pit looking for metals, was now a flooded basin, murky water rising rapidly in the massive bowl as the rain pounded down, turning the ground into a slick, muddy, deathtrap. Cranes and excavators sat motionless atop a nearby hill, hastily secured with tarps flapping violently in the wind.
Sections of the pit walls had already caved in, large chunks of earth sliding down into the rising waters with sickening sloshes. Pools of rainwater lapped at the edges in violent waves, pulling more dirt and debris into the flood below. The skeletal remains of scaffolding jutted out at awkward angles, some half-submerged, others barely clinging to the crumbling edges.
The woman was standing at the edge overlooking the site with an odd look on her face, her light brown coat fluttering in the wind, somehow completely dry.
As Mary reached out to grab her, she vanished. Just… disappeared, like a mirage swept away by the rain.
“Wha-”
Mary’s words were cut off as the ground beneath her feet gave way. A scream slipped her lips as she plummeted down the slick, muddy slope, arms flailing for anything to grab, before slamming into a piece of metal scaffolding, knocking the wind from her lungs. The structure groaned dangerously beneath her weight. Mary scrambled back, her heart pounding, desperately grasping the cold railing as the rain beat down on her, threatening to pull her into the churning waters below.
The scaffolding groaned as it swayed in the wind. Behind her, part of the pit wall had collapsed, a wide section washed away by the relentless downpour, leaving the scaffolding teetering on the brink of collapse. Mary’s pulse raced; she knew it wouldn’t hold much longer.
But then something caught her eye. The wall collapsing had revealed a faint shimmer in the mud, just barely visible through the downpour. Squinting through the rain, she saw it: a gold glint peeking from the exposed wall. With trembling hands, she reached out over the scaffolding, and wiped at the muddy dirt, revealing a thin, shiny chain.
Curiosity overpowered her fear as she tugged on it, pulling the chain free. Slowly, a rusty gold pocket watch emerged from the slushy mud, its surface tarnished but unmistakably valuable.
Worlessly, she ran a thumb over the massive crack running down the center of its face, marveling at the feel of the tiny details carved into its surface.
SNAP
The scaffolding finally gave way, tearing itself from the remaining supports under the hammer of the rain, and crashing violently into the pit with the sound of rending metal.
But Mary didn’t fall with it.
Just like the woman, Mary was gone. Vanished, like a mirage in the rain.
-Rusted Time-
Tempora was one of the last to leave the courtroom, after the meeting was adjourned, specifically to try to avoid getting talked to by anyone. She really just didn’t want to deal with the other concepts right now. Apparently it was “bad manners” to just warp away out of the court, but then again it wasn’t like anyone trusted her using magic to begin with.
Unfortunately her plan was immediately derailed by a certain annoyance.
“Hey! Clock woman!” Mischief came running and slid in front of her, cutting off her path.
Compared to the (frankly overblown) attire of the other concepts, Mischief’s outfit seemed cobbled together, as if stitched from the patchwork memory of a forgotten dream. Her clothes were a chaotic patchwork of fabrics, textures, and colors that shouldn’t work together but somehow kind of did. One sleeve hung long and loose, draping over her hand,, while the other was cut short, hugging her shoulder snugly.
She stared up at the manifestation of Time with eyes as mismatched as her clothes. One eye gleamed with a serpentine green, its pupil twisted into a three-pointed star. The other was a vibrant tabby orange, its narrow slit resembling a cat’s, sharp and cunning with a mischievous glint.
“How’d you do that? You were totally asleep, and sitting right next to me, too! But somehow Aeon only saw me fiddling with some yarn.” Mischief puffed out her cheeks and looked up expectantly. “I want to do whatever gets him to ignore you!”
Time glared down at her coldly.
“No you don’t.”
“But I do!”
“No.” She said honestly, her voice hostile and chipped like ice. “You don’t.”
Mischief seemed to realize she had made some sort of mistake, and visibly shrunk under Tempora’s gaze.
“Oh, don’t mind my sister, little trick. She’s a cold and uncaring sort. It’s best not to bother with her.”
A voice called out, and Tempora could feel a vein on her forehead throb.
Mischief blinked, her eyes swapping in confusion as the space around her rippled and she suddenly found herself down the hallway, in the arms of another woman.
“Nova, it’s so nice to see you again.” Tempora forced out with a painfully fake smile. “You’re looking good today, did you pin an extra star in your hair, by chance?”
“I did, actually, thank you for noticing.” The concept of Space ran a hand through her inky dark hair that sparkled with the riches of the cosmos- bright stars and swirling galaxies, mixing with deep purple nebulas.
“Sister?”
“Yes, little trick, I’m her sister. I’ve known her longer than anyone, so I can tell you that there’s no reason to feel bad.” Nova gave Mischief a motherly pat on the head, before looking back up with bright purple eyes and skin like bronze metal. “Picking on the lesser concepts is rude and ill befitting of your position, sister. You could at least try to have some dignity fitting of your position.”
“Nono, it’s my fault! I was the one annoying her!” Mischief pulled herself out of Nova’s hug, and waved her hands frantically. “I started it.”
“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, Tem is rude to everyone, that’s just how she is. She doesn’t care for others, because she can’t. It’s not in her nature.”
“Excuse me?” Tempora cut in with an offended tone.
“Am I wrong?” Nova raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Time is one of the cruelest things in existence. Even the cruelest acts of wanton destruction give the chance to build something better afterwards. Time’s only purpose is to limit what can be done, and what we can have. It is a relentless march to nothingness. Time cannot care, because all it can do is take.”
Several long and scathing rebuttals pressed against Tempora’s lips, but she bit them back, and managed to keep her face passive.
“Not even going to deny it?”
“If I corrected you everytime you were wrong, not even I would be able to find time to do anything else. Some of us have actual responsibilities and better things to do."
Almost as if to prove her point, there was a tug at the back of her mind, a pressure that would build into a migraine if left alone for too long. There was another time anomaly that needed to be destroyed.
Tempora didn’t stick around for a response, she turned and marched down the hallway with a meaningful stride in her step.
Mischief watched her go with a frown. “If you two are sisters, you should treat each other nicer.”
“We used to, a long time ago.” Nova let a forlorn sigh slip her lips. “Once I had an awkward but kind and earnest sister. But time is cold and uncaring, all it does it take. Time took that away from me.”
-Rusted Time-
Mary was dying, she was certain that’s what was happening. She had smashed her head as she fell into the pit. This quiet, unreal place felt too dreamlike, too detached from the storm she’d just been fighting for survival in. This had to be one final hallucination, the brain’s last flickers before shutting down.
She lay sprawled in a vast, endless field of damp grass, the rolling hills fading into the mist in all directions. The night sky above was a deep, quiet void, endless and starless, casting the scene in a dim, somber light. A soft, misty drizzle fell from above, cool and gentle. A drop landed on her forehead and rolled down her nose, caressing her as it slid down her cheek.
Everything hurt. Her arms hurt, her legs hurt, her insides hurt, her head was in agony, but it was all fuzzy. Distant in a way. Like she was floating above it.
She could hear a very faint ticking in the back of her head, which was weird because she’d lost the watch. It had slipped from her grip, and she had no idea where it went.
…
If she was going to die, she decided that this wasn’t so bad of a place.
A sleek black high-heeled boot came to rest beside Mary’s head, its polished leather gleaming in the misty light. Startled, she glanced up and found a woman towering above her- that she somehow hadn’t seen approach in this completely empty field?? The space around her seemed to hum with her presence, as if the air itself bent to accommodate her.
The woman was tall, very tall. Even though Mary might have been short for her age, she could still tell that this lady was abnormally tall. Maybe seven or so feet. Her figure was draped in a midnight-blue gown, embroidered with cool silvers and hints of gold that shimmered slightly, like the sky at dawn or twilight. Intricate patterns of silver and gold wove through the hem and sleeves, like constellations resembling the intricate loops of clockwork gears, celestial bodies, and the twisting lines of an hourglass
But her face… her face stood out. She was somehow even more gorgeous than her clothes, but she looked almost too perfect. Like it was made by someone who understood the concept of beauty, but not what made it appealing. It lacked warmth, it was expressionless, like someone took bullet points of what made a woman attractive, and checked every box on the list, but forgot to put any personality or expressions on the face.
Like a doll.
A random thought flitted through Mary’s mind, about how it was sad that such a nice face was wasted looking so expressionless. She didn’t have a nice face, hers was covered in nicks and scars and freckles, but she could at least smile.
Tempora stared down at Mary, her icy blue eyes piercing through the misty gloom. The longer she stared into them, the more certain she was that she could see faint blue gears spinning behind them. It was like they were mechanical, alive in their own way.
"...You're not a watch." Tempora observed bluntly, her voice as cool and detached.
Mary chuckled weakly, her mind still hazy from the pain. "That's a strange thing for death to say."
"Time anomalies aren't supposed to be..." Tempora tilted her head ever so slightly, the gears in her eyes seeming to pause for just a second. "Human."
"Does that make me doubly anomalous?" Mary managed, though her laugh was faint, almost delirious.
"In a way," Tempora replied, her tone flat, clinical. "But it also makes you much more dangerous."
Mary didn’t have the energy for a witty response this time. The day’s events, her injuries, and the fatigue finally caught up to her. The small orphan went limp on the damp grass, her eyes fluttering closed as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Tempora stood over her, unmoved. "...This is nothing personal." She murmured, raising her arm. A blade materialized in her hand, shimmering like liquid silver in the rain, poised to strike. "It's just my job."
“Tem is rude to everyone, that’s just how she is. She doesn’t care for others, because she can’t. It’s not in her nature.” Nova’s words echoed in her mind, soft but sharp. “She’s a cold and uncaring sort. It’s best not to bother with her.”
Her grip tightened around the blade, fingers digging into the handle until it cracked under the pressure.
Was it true?
She had eliminated countless time anomalies before, some even alive enough to fight back. But this was a child. Could she really go through with it?
The answer was instinctive and immediate. She absolutely could. Her duty was all she had, it was her purpose. If she refused to carry it out, what reason did she have for existing?
…but should she?
“Time is one of the cruelest things in existence. Even the cruelest acts of wanton destruction give the chance to build something better afterwards. Time’s only purpose is to limit what can be done, and what we can have. It is a relentless march to nothingness. Time cannot care, because all it can do is take.”
The blade slipped from her fingers, falling like another raindrop in the storm, and sank to the hilt without any resistance from the dirt. Tempora knelt down, gently scooping Mary into her arms. The girl felt impossibly small, as if she might be blown away by the wind at any moment.
"You have no idea how lucky you are," She tisked. "Any other day, I wouldn't have even hesitated."
But she knew all too well, luck didn’t really exist. There was only being in the right place at the right time.
-Chap End-
This is an on and off story that I will be updating every once and awhile. It’s not going on my main schedule, I’m already juggling too many books at once, but it’s something I feel like I need to do.
o7