//LULL DETECTED IN THE ACTIONS OF (SEBASTIAN CORMIER PERSEPHONIA): SHIFTING PERSPECTIVE TO GATHER ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

//TARGET DESIGNATED AS: (GARRET TAGGART), CHOSEN OF TAREL THE HUMAN EMBODIMENT OF WILL.

//INITIATING….

Garrett bit his thumb in frustration as he stared down at a completely fucking useless map. He’d drawn it from his memories in his last life, so why was it all wrong? What was once a cliff was now a completely flat prairie, and he couldn’t find any of the hazards he’d cleared early on in his last life. How was he supposed to save humanity when he couldn’t use any of the memories he’d earned?

“Garredd. Dere’s anodder.” Damian Ilovich slurred, stumbling over a log to smash his drunken face into the soft peat below. “He says he’s like you, whatever dat means. If id means he’s gonna gibe me as much booze as you do, then I’ll be his besd friend.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Garret spat, not even shooting a glance at the useless drunk as he stepped over him. There was no way that man was ‘the best scout in existence’. He’d been so fucking angry after his son… died… that Garret could only keep him placated with alcohol. “Get your armor on. Your new best friend might try to kill me.”

Garret slowly sauntered through his impromptu camp, filled with a good fifty people he’d remembered were pretty competent from his last life. He’d been with three of them when he died, and he still had to find the other sixteen before anyone else got at them. Coleen called out to him as he walked by, frantically waving her hands to try and get his attention.

She’d been one of those three; a sniper who’d followed him through thick and thin. She’d been shy, reserved, and extremely clingy. So much so that he’d doubted she was the real deal when he’d first seen the energetic and self-confident woman who she now was. He’d have to find out what made Coleen the way she was in his old life to get the real her back.

“Good, Garrett. I’ve got the reports from our scouts right here, and before you even ask, it’s not good news.” Coleen said with a slap of her hand against an expertly drawn map. “Nothing you showed us lines up with what’s real. Whatever your ‘Embodiment’ told you, he’s wrong. There’s not a lake off north, we couldn’t find the salt mines that were supposed to be to the west, and obviously there’s no lightning for our people with electric cores to charge up with on a completely flat and low prairie. But we found a–”

“No.” Garrett held up a hand to get Coleen to stop. “I know what I saw. Keep looking for the landmarks I told you about. The land doesn’t change; it’s your cartographers and scouts who are wrong. Get it right this time.”

“But–” Coleen started to argue, only to be quieted yet again by Garrett. She frowned and backed away, but reluctantly nodded. “Fine. We’ve only been here for two weeks, so what’s another four fucking months chasing an imaginary landscape?”

“Don’t talk back. I’m in charge here, so you listen to me. You’d still be stuck doing fucking nothing back with all the other idiots if I hadn’t chosen you, so be grateful.” Garret said haughtily, turning away from Coleen before she had a chance to argue. “Do your job, which is to do what I tell you to do.”

Garrett ignored the angry mutterings from Coleen as he walked away, frustrated with how different she was than the real Coleen. He moved up getting her back to normal on his list of priorities, just under ‘save humanity’, ‘find Sebastian Cormier’, ‘find the people Tarel said were important’, and ‘find everyone from his old life’. It wasn’t a long list, but each of those items could take years to cross off.

Frustration bubbled up in Garrett’s throat. Nothing had gone right ever since he killed Damian’s fucking kid. It hadn’t even been his fault; the little idiot had charged a monster, and Garrett wasn’t strong enough to safely fight it. The kid had gotten in the way of so many attacks, closed so many openings, and Garret had just… snapped. A sword through the head, a few maulings from the tiger-bear thing, and Damian’s eight year old son was dead.

Of course, Garrett wasn’t a monster. He’d mourned the kid, and he’d tried to make amends with booze and women–only the former of which Damian had accepted. But after that, everything went wrong. The landscape was different, the starting town was different, even the system was a little more complicated and fucky than he’d remembered. Hell, just clearing that first hazard had taken almost a month and a half.

“Damn it.” Garret spat, smashing his fist into a stone shelter someone had raised. “I’m surrounded by fucking morons.”

“It looks to me like you’re surrounded by humans.”

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Garret snapped to put a face to the voice he didn’t recognize. It came from a slightly mossy-looking suit of armor–dark green covering a slightly off-white interior that looked like it would glow in the dark. He couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman speaking, but he already didn’t like them.

“Yes. Morons.” Garrett repeated. “You included. Tell me what you fucking want and get out.”

Moss-armor tilted its head to the side and clicked its tongue. “Not ‘or’ get out? You’ve already decided that I’m not worth dealing with? A fellow chosen?”

Those words put a screeching halt to Garrett’s frustration. “You’re lying.” He said warily, but there was something about how moss-armor carried itself that said otherwise. “Tarel would have told me you were coming.”

“Ah, yes, the once in a blue moon communication from our embodiments. They have their own little cliques too, you know.” Moss armor chuckled. “I don’t know who chose you, and I don’t feel like telling you who chose me, so we’re at an impasse. But we could be reluctant allies if you’re willing to listen to me.”

Garrett snarled and crossed his arms. Moss-armor just chuckled lightly. That was somehow the most terrifying response it could’ve given.

“Fine! Fucking fine!” Garret said in exasperation, throwing his arms up and turning around. “Come to the command tent. I’ll hear you out before I kick you out.”

Moss armor laughed brightly as Garrett stormed away, following at a generous arm’s length. Garrett’s nerves were already shot enough as it was, so his patience for power-grabbers was at an all-time low. Depending on what this person wanted, he might be spending his afternoon digging a shallow grave.

He threw aside the shoddy tarp covering the tent and snarled at the four people standing over a detailed geographical representation of their surrounding two miles. “I need this place. Get out.”

None of the four were from his old life, so they didn’t matter. He hadn’t even learned their names. They muttered in annoyance while slowly gathering up their shit, almost as if they were going as slow as possible just to piss Garrett off. If he still had his old core, he would’ve hurried them up. But this fucking piece of shit he had now wasn’t good for anything. Even if Tarel had insisted it was tailor-made for Garrett alone, he wanted it gone.

“Lord almighty, you people are fucking aggravating.” Garret hissed and shook his head as the last straggler finally left. He turned to see moss armor waiting patiently outside of the tent. “Well? What are you waiting for? Come say your piece.”

“Is that an invitation? I’m not coming in without an invitation.” Moss armor said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You know how cores are. I’m not going to get killed because your core lets you do something to trespassers.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Garrett muttered under his breath. “I extend an invitation to whoever the fuck you are. Is that good enough?”

Moss armor uncrossed its arms and nodded. “Yes, and thank you. I will accept your invitation.” The tarp swung ‘shut’ behind moss armor as they walked across the generously sized tent to stand at the other side of the geographical recreation. “Now, to get to business; I’m a chosen just like you, if that wasn’t already obvious.”

“It was.” Garret said impatiently. “Do you know why the world’s all wrong?”

“No, but my Embodiment is looking into it. When our communication function is recharged I will know what is going on. But that’s not why I’m here.” Moss armor said with a wave of its hand. “You haven’t been very secretive about what you’re doing. It’s putting a lot of chosen on edge, and not in a ‘friendly competition’ kind of way.”

Garret bit back his retort as he actually processed what moss armor had said. “So you represent a… what… a coalition of chosen? And you’re here to silence me?”

“Oh, stop being so paranoid. I know that’s not your Embodiment.” Moss armor chided. “I’m gathering information, just like anyone who wanted to survive more than a few years on this world would. I’m willing to trade that information for a spot on your little team.”

“We’re not little. And why would we trade? I could just capture you and torture it out of you.” Garret threatened, slamming his fist down on the table. “Give me a reason not to.”

Moss armor didn’t flinch at Garret’s threat. “In my last life, Sebastian Cormier killed me after I killed one of his companions. I know that man a little too well, and I know that he wouldn’t kill a child. But that was before everyone else’s memories got reset. I want to find him.”

Oh. OH. A wicked grin split Garrett’s face as the possibilities swam through his mind. He could focus on the actually important things while moss armor did all the work looking for Sebastian in his place. And all it would cost him was… nothing, actually.

“Welcome to the team.” Garret said with saccharine sweetness and a hand outstretched to shake. “I look forward to knowing what you know.”

That seemed to faze moss armor. It stared at Garrett for a few seconds, then nodded and accepted his handshake.

“Good! I’m going to make sure everything’s running well. You’ll tell us everything you know after dinner.” Garrett marched out of the tent, obviously pleased with himself as he went.

Moss armor stared at him as he went, and at the flap for a few seconds after he’d gone. It shook its head and sighed, looking down at the map that Garrett had damaged in a moment of anger.

“That might have been a bad call.”