When I came to, I was disemboweled on a dirty cutting board, stewing in translucent blue smoke and greasy yellow light.

My innards, long red wire veins and mechanical scrap, were cleanly partitioned and separated into distinct components groups. I briefly felt the need to scream, but even my artificial voice was denied — my central processing unit was entirely disconnected from my chassis.

Despite everything that happened, the root of my situation had not changed. Here was the truth: I was still a single, jagged, unseemly crystal, though my hue had deepened to a shimmering crimson; a scarlet so rich that it would put fresh blood to shame. And before I could panic, I spotted a familiar figure sitting near me.

“You’re back in the land of the living,” a masked Jaxl said, glancing at me over the brim of a newspaper. “Hope you don’t mind the mess. It isn’t kidnapping if you’re not a kid, right?”

I mentally flinched. How did he know I was awake?

“You start glowing whenever you’re conscious,” he said. “Connect yourself back to your vocalizer — I don’t want to play another round of charades today.”

Taking stock of the dismantled drone pieces around me, I found the black box that allowed me to talk and jammed in some Ether wires. The speaker produced a harsh, scratching noise that slowly warped into a flat, monotone voice.

“Can you hear me?” I tried.

“I’m not sure,” Jaxl said. “You tell me.”

I made my displeasure known with a disgruntled noise and began the slow and arduous process of rebuilding myself. I had a blueprint stored in my head; at the very least, it would be less arduous than trying to put a living being back together.

“Hold on,” Jaxl said, lowering his newspaper. “Need to keep you dissected — vivisected — for a little longer. Think you can handle it?”

My gaze was involuntarily dragged through the room, touching and disregarding low fluorescent lights, blocky black machines coughing up steady thin streams of blue smoke, freshly-painted red workbenches, and a wall filled with a replicant of every tool ever made, past, present and future. Then, before I realized what I was doing, I reflexively asked a question:

“Where’s Owl?”

“Alive but hospitalized, along with half of the team. They won’t be awake for another few hours.”

“That’s… a relief.”

I deflated, straightening out my panic and disorientation into coherent thoughts.

Why was I so worried over somebody I just met? Only a few days have passed since we tried to murder one another; there was no reason to feel anything towards a person who only dealt with me on contractual obligation.

And yet, something was happening to her. To me.

Was there anything we could do to stop it?

“Heard what happened from Sier.” Jaxl stared at me for a moment, then crossed his arms. “You’ve probably seen enough, so I think it’s about time we talked. About everything. What was the last thing you remember?”

A vortex of black. Casual cruelties.

Mounting conspiracy.

“What was that place?” I asked, recalling the bullets and shrapnel flying my way. “There wasn’t… anything about it online.”

“‘Course there wouldn’t be. Plenty of generation-old refugee camps near and on the Frontier’s border, but nobody gives enough of a shit to do anything about it.”

Malnourished bodies, empty eyes.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I started. “There’s technology to solve that. There’s teleporting trains and instantaneous transport and magic that I’ve never seen before. Entire demiplanes of existence. How can there still be people like that?”

“Easy. It’s nobody’s problem.”

“...Nobody?”

“Countries have a duty to look after their own citizens. The Oracles only care about their Relics and agendas. Everybody’s barely scraping by. Don’t have enough time or will to care.” Jaxl shrugged. “That’s just how the Frontier is. How the world is.”

“Why? Isn’t there… Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“Easier still. Sure, you can give a starving man a meal, but that’ll only last ‘em a single day. What after? Even if you have work to give him, he might not be physically or mentally capable. You have to keep pulling on them until they can stand on their own two feet. Nobody wants to deal with that.” Though his face was covered with a mask, I felt him frown. “And if good intentions were enough, none of us would be here.”

I didn’t want to accept it. Deep within, some part of me strained and fought against the realization; there had to be something the Oracles, the world’s governments, and some third party could do.

There had to be something I could do.

“It’s not your responsibility,” Jaxl offered. “The sharpest blade can’t do jack shit against a famine or plague, unless you consider killing everybody a viable solution. I can’t foot your bills and pull you out of danger forever — you’ll have to learn how to survive on your own two feet, and fast.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

As much as I hated to ignore the injustices engraved into my mind, there was brutal truth in his words.

Hopes and ideals without anything to back them up were empty and worthless sentiments that would be washed out in the first rain. If I wanted to do anything at all, I needed more strength, more resources, and the knowledge to guide my Stigmata, my only permanent weapon, where it could make the most change.

Fighting was the only thing I knew, and I wasn’t even very good at that. Twice Cassandra had given me mercy; she could’ve easily finished me and Owl off during our second encounter, but she ignored us for some reason.

Jaxl filled me in on what happened after I passed out. Apparently, the two members of the Rings assisted in taking down Husk and left with their objectives in tow. Sier sustained several gunshot wounds while covering for the great escape, leaving her in a healable, albeit unhappy condition.

“Everybody’s still alive,” Jaxl added, “Especially thanks to your quick work on Owl. Poor gal can’t catch a break, it seems.”

If it wasn’t for the sudden appearance of the Rings, she wouldn’t have been caught off guard and mortally wounded in the middle of battle. Remembering the exact circumstances that brought me here, I propped myself upright and made my voice as steady as possible.

“Did you know?”

“Hm?”

“The Rings. Did you know they would show up?”

I stared at Jaxl, scanning for signs of deception. Faster heart rate, change of posture, eye placement.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and said, “They were bound to show up at some point. Unluckily, or luckily, depending on how you want to take it, you had perfect timing.”

Entirely truthful, as far as I could tell.

“What will happen to all the people that lived there?” I asked.

“Same thing that happens to the rest that live in the Wastes. They’ll either adapt, or die.” Jaxl got up from his seat and sat on the table’s edge. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. If it wasn’t you, somebody else would’ve harvested the Husk — and knowing most modern Hunters, probably have leveled the entire city without any regret.” He looked at wrist, where a cracked watch flashed a golden dragon sigil. “And sorry about lying last time. Your actual consultant is here.”

The workshop’s door creaked open, and Nina waded through the smoke-filled room with a cart full of wooden crates. She wore a black suit with matching gloves and frown, and just under her right cheek, like strange freckles, was a splash of partially congealed blood.

“You missed a spot,” Jaxl said, gesturing to his mask. Nina ignored him and sat on a bench in front of me, stubbing out her smoke on an overpopulated ashtray to my right.

“Hey Vivi,” she said, breaking into a tired grin. “I don’t know what this guy told you, but I’m not living a double life. Just working multiple jobs. Happen to work as a broker of various… things, sometimes.”

“A well and certified Hunter,” Jaxl added. “Decently ranked, you know.”

“Shush, you.” Nina wiped the blood from her face and flicked it into the nearest trash can. “Anyway, I think we need to clear a few misunderstandings up and fill in a few blanks. For us, collectively, and for the sake of future work.”

That didn’t sound good. I’ve already seen Jaxl in action — there was no way I was going to win against him.

“If you’re going to kill or betray me,” I said, “don’t tell me about it. I just want to be happy.”

For a long moment, Nina stared at me. Then she looked at Jaxl and said, “What the hell did you do to her?”

“Pretty sure she came pre-traumatized,” Jaxl grunted. “Their Stigmata was active when I found them.”

“I’m not talking about that.” She picked me up and held me in her palms, holding me with gentle fingers and worried eyes. “I really thought they’d treat you better. Gods be damned, knew I should’ve been there for longer. How are you holding up?”

The mirth in her gaze was gone — perhaps it was never there at all — yet the warmth remained, one of the initial sparks of hope I decided to place my trust in.

It struck me that this was the first time somebody was ever worried for me. I wasn’t sure what to make of it; I didn’t know if I could.

“Nice suit,” I said.

Nina’s eyebrow rose. “Thanks, it’s bulletproof. But I’m not here to talk about me, I’m worried about you.” She reached into a crate and pulled out a gunmetal grey arm, holding a honey-combed shoulder-socket to me. “Let’s delay that topic for now. Stretch your pseudo-meridians in here, see if it works.”

I did. My Ether tendrils spread through the rounded doll joints and thin wire-like pathways inside, filling it up with my essence. I experimentally wiggled the fingers, almost able to clench a fist.

Like a starving animal being presented with food, I fixated only on the arm — all other thoughts, positive and negative, vanished into the recesses of my consciousness.

“Absolutely ace,” Nina said, grinning like a wolf. “Pull out whenever you feel. It’s only a prototype, the real thing’ll have some maneuverability.”

“I thought you said you needed a month?” I said.

“I did! But that was if I had to start from scratch. Luckily there were some extra corpses around with cybernetic augments, so I decided to get chopping. It’ll take a few days, maybe a week to get something with combat functionality.”

A little atrocious, but I did plenty worse myself already. I practically vibrated in her palm, wishing I could hug and thank her in a way that didn’t involve speaking in monotone or accidentally hurting her with my excited winds.

“Best tell V the catch now,” Jaxl suddenly said, as though sensing my joy.

“I was just getting to that,” Nina said, quietly.

“What catch?” I asked.

Nina looked away from me. “The short version is that I need help with something money can’t buy. I… want you to save Owl.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her Stigmata is breaking her down. I don’t know how longer she’ll be able to hold on.” She put me down and rubbed her temple, breathing a long breath through her nose. “Those who develop them are expected to live for two, maybe three years. The maximum record for longevity is five years, and she’s… she’s already nearing that. I think she’s planning on using Whitelight to cut that part out of her, but I’m not sure if that’ll work.”

Destroying cancer cells before they can spread.

“Why not?”

“For ordinary people, Stigmata are closer to an infection, a corruption. If they’re dealt with early, maybe there’s a chance. But for Owl, I’m not sure how much will be left if she cuts out that part of her. She only activates it every once in a while, but the effects are tearing away at her.”

“What are the symptoms?” I asked, hesitantly.

“Besides increasing power, there’s delusions, hallucinations, abnormal bodily mutations, dramatic shifts in personality, and general instability to name a few. Some terminal cases have recorded nonsensical conversations with voices only they can hear.”

If I had a stomach, it would’ve dropped then.

“Vivi, you’re a special case,” Nina said, clasping her hands together. “I’m not sure exactly what’s going on with you, but you seem to be much more stable and actually have some semblance of control over your power. It’s the last thing I can believe in — I’m out of options and time. Even giving it a try, that's all I ask for.”

I stared at her in total silence, feeling the weight of the plea and following information on my mind.

Out of curiosity, I tried turning off my wind. No matter what I did or thought, it kept on blowing from a crack settled deep within.

“I’ve already decided to help her,” I replied. “I appreciate the additional data and assistance.”

A strangled thank you muttered its way out of Nina’s mouth, followed by surprised laughter and a long sigh of relief. She began saying words and ideas while discussing what to do next with Jaxl and me in a dialogue I could probably recall later, but I was already disconnected from the scene, spirited away by the realization forced upon me.

If five years of casual Stigmata use was the limit for the human mind, I had already used mine for three hundred years straight.