Broken. Numb. Vincent wandered the colorless world before him. Where was he going? It was a question without an answer, for even he had no thoughts about his destination. He moved with instinct and instinct alone.
The streets that he walked down were lined with crumbled buildings, marked with bullet holes and recent strife. Littering the ground were corpses and pools of liquid. He didn’t need to see color to know that it was all blood. The bodies in front of him looked no different than a common citizen. Some of them were mobsters, but most were most likely part of the rising militia that began to side with Archard. How sad it is to be so misguided by someone. It’s even sadder to give your life to something that ultimately meant nothing. If Vincent was still capable of feeling pity, he most certainly would’ve empathized and pitied these fools. Still, he felt nothing as he stepped over each body. How far had he fallen?
Just a mere month ago, he would shutter at the thought of a dead body and faint at the notion of people dying on his behalf. He couldn’t even fathom killing someone. But as he looked down at his hand, he saw that it was still a lightless black color. It didn’t even occur to him that he was still in his Altered Black form. The more he stared at that void-arm, the more he thought about how it crushed his enemy to death. However, what stuck out to him the most is how he literally felt nothing when he did it. After all, his arm was made of nothing; it couldn’t feel.
With each step, the world around him felt more desolate. There was no difference in things besides their shades of grey. Color still eluded his eyes. The more he walked, the more he let go of his mind. He let his body move on instinct and his mind flow freely. There was no restraint to his mental waves, and so, they spread out over the city like a ripple in a pond, getting thinner the closer they got to the edge of London.
Those waves bounced off and reflected off of everything. When they returned to Vincent, he could sense what exactly they reflected off of. And he continued to pay attention to them.
Body. Lamp. Glass shards. Car. Body. Gun. Body.
Subconsciously, he would take note of each thing that his waves would interact with before immediately forgetting about them. Was it because his mind was empty? Was that why nothing stuck around for more than a few seconds? The way that he would cycle through all of the different things he sensed made it seem like…
Am I looking for something? he asked himself. What am I looking for? Where am I walking to?
He felt like a bird flying during migration. His mind was dragging him around, but he had no idea why. Or maybe it wasn’t. Like most times in his life, perhaps he was just wandering around without a purpose. And honestly, he didn’t really care. He didn’t have the capacity to care anymore. Where there were once emotions, there was just cold logic. But it wasn’t intelligent logic; just logic left behind in the absence of humanity.
Then something interesting caught his attention. A few of his mental waves came back to him with multiple times the size and strength. Whatever was reflecting those waves was amplifying them, much like echoes of a hollow cave. How could that be? The more he focused on trying to sense what his waves bounced off of, the more he couldn’t understand it. Whatever was causing this, it had an alien feel to it. It couldn’t register in his head.
But for some reason, he was drawn to it. Something about it seemed so familiar yet foreign.
For the first time since his fight, he walked toward something with purpose. Like a beacon, he planned his route with nothing but this presence in mind. The closer he got, the more he sensed something underneath those waves; something that was not him. There was something else lying beneath those waves. He couldn’t understand what it was but he could feel its…intent. It was calling to him. It was beckoning him to it. It wanted him.
Before he knew it, he found himself standing in front of a tall, black obelisk. It stood towering towards the sky, sitting away from anything else. It was in the middle of an open, yet deserted public square. Nothing had existed there for a long time. Only dust and scattered trash lived there.
You’re so lonely, Vincent thought. Are you like me? Are we both nothing?
He walked up to the obelisk and stared into it. At first, it looked to be as lightless and deep as the voids that Vincent produced; it looked to be the same color as his arms. But the further he looked, the more the differences were apparent.
Speckled in the darkness of the obelisk were hints of colors. The more an eye looked into the obelisk, the deeper it went. Depth seemed endless. There were swirls of purples and green, mixed with explosive reds. It was a spectrum of colors present that were unlike anything he had ever seen. Like the gossamer colors of a clear, night sky. It seemed like space itself was trapped within the obelisk. Or maybe it was space.
Why can I see these colors? His hand reached out to touch it. I want these colors. I need them.
The moment he came into contact with the obelisk, his mind was overwhelmed. Instantly, his six senses were stimulated beyond their limits. Each one had several stimuli that sparked through them, sometimes at the same time. They were things that he never experienced…or at least not yet? Wait, that didn’t make any sense. It was like he was experiencing memories that weren’t his, but at the same time, they felt so familiar.
A science lab. Green lights; white lights; chemical smell; cold floor.
An angel in the sky. White light. Glowing. Glowing. So Bright. A headache beyond all pain. Hate. Hate. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATEHATE.
Why do I hate this angel?
A ruined world. Miles of collapsed buildings. A sky forever darkened. The smell of death.
Lonely. So lonely. I’m all alone. Black. Dark. Void.
An obelisk. Hope. Four pillars of hope. Bells. Ringing. It’s time. Release.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Don’t abandon them.”
Then white. Then nothing.
***
“Are you almost done, Zander?” Eliot asked, kicking his feet.
He was pacing around an open square toward the southernmost point of the city. In the center of the plaza was the towering presence that loomed over him. Standing almost 100 feet tall, stood a black obelisk. It cast a large shadow that was elongated by the setting sun. The only reason it wasn’t obvious to see from miles away was because its base was at the bottom of a large, square dip in the cement. It looked like a construction project that only managed to put on a single set of stairs before being abandoned.
“Almost finished,” Zander answered, not looking up from his blue notebook.
His eyes were vibrant with purpose as his entire concentration seemed to be affixed to the obelisk and to his notebooks. Feverishly, he was scratching down whatever he saw on one side before quickly moving to another side of the pillar. He looked so cute and nerdy when he was into something.
“If you need anything,” Zander said, “ask Hal. He’s probably smoked a whole pack in boredom by now.”
Stepping out of the shadow of one of the alleys, the trenchcoat-wearing detective flicked the butt of a cigarette out of his mouth. He lit another one and took a smoke.
“I still got halfa pack left, Mr. Glasses,” Hal grunted. His eyes causally darted from one entrance of the square to another. “Unlike you, I’m watching our perimeter. You never know when one of those Libra goons will come a knockin’. Besides, you’ve seen how the citizens have begun to form small militias in Archard’s name. Even though we’re in the Slayer’s old territory, we can never be too careful.”
“That's true,” Eliot agreed.
“At least someone gets it. So, pipsqueak,” Hal said, looking at Eliot, “you really think Vincent can handle the Godfather?”
With determined eyes, Eliot responded, “I know he can.”
Hal took another puff. “I suppose we ain’t got a choice but believe in him. Whatever.”
There was a moment of silence that naturally hung in the air. The sun was just about to crest beyond the horizon, bringing the purples and blacks of the coming night with it. There was only half an hour at most before the day would be gone. The group was cutting it close, in terms of visibility.
Eliot couldn’t help but look up at the stars that were starting to twinkle in the sky. Only a few of the brightest ones managed to push past the light of the day and make themselves known. Something about the night sky looked so familiar. No, it felt familiar. As the days since this journey began went by, the night sky reminded him more and more of Vincent. It was strange. He couldn't quite put it into words, but there was something beneath the surface that felt the same when he looked at the sky and thought of his friend.
Now that I think about it, Eliot thought, his eyes slowly drifting toward the obelisk, this also feels like the night sky.
“Eureka!” Zander shouted, walking out of the pit. “I’m finally done! Man, whoever is writing these things either loves to write or is incapable of explaining their thoughts cohesively.”
“That’s wonderful to hear, Zan!” Eliot said with a smile. “You’re so talented. Now come on, let’s get—”
He stopped. A cold chill ran down his spine…and then it kept going. And going. And going. There was no end to this sudden drop in his stomach; like there was an endless abyss for his worry to sink into. It was a sudden feeling. It felt like a ghost was watching him and the feeling never went away. In fact, it only got worse.
With the rest of his might, he turned with wide eyes to look at his companions. He watched each of them return his worried look with equally on-edge faces. Zander dropped the pencil from his hand, while Hal’s cigarette dropped from his mouth.
With a quickness that only a veteran of danger could have, Hal swopped over and grabbed Eliot by the arm.
“Blondie!” he yelled. “Over here. Quick!”
With a reckless amount of speed, all three of them rushed and hid behind a full dumpster that sat just at the edge of one of the alley entrances. There was a good line of sight to the obelisk, and the coming night sky gave them the protection of darkness.
With bated breath and cold sweat running down their necks, they lie in wait.
Whatever they were all sensing, it was monstrous. And it was getting closer. Even though none of them knew how to resonate or even what mental waves were, this force was so powerful that any person could sense it. It’s a kind of sixth sense that all humans naturally possess—some more sensitive to it than others. But regardless of capability, all people can hear thunder crash or feel a spear enter their stomach. This mental feeling was no different.
As the source of their fear came closer, they began to hear what sounded like multiple bells—some high, some low—coming from the obelisk. It got louder the closer the monstrous entity got to them.
Once they got so close, Eliot could sense something else underneath the sheer pressure of danger. There was a single feeling emanating from the approaching entity. It was the feeling of nothing. Emptiness. Loneliness. How sad! It was colder than anything he’d ever felt, like jumping into the Arctic sea without clothes. But even so, there was something pitiful about it that he couldn't place his finger on.
And that's when the figure showed itself. Stumbling like a starving, rabid animal, a human emerged from the shadows. It swayed as though it was partway into a delusion, barely cognizant of where it was going or what it was doing.
Hal cocked his gun. “I’ll take care of it in one shot,” he said in a hushed tone.
“Wait,” Eliot replied, placing his hand on Hal’s shoulder. “Zander, doesn’t that figure look familiar?”
“What are you…” Zander started to say. He leaned his head in and squinted. “Is that…”
Eliot looked back at Hal and Zander with a confused and slightly horrified expression. “I think that's Vincent.”
“What?” Hal asked.
“But how can that be?” Zander added. “Do you see his arms? They’re completely black. A-And he’s not acting like himself. What’s with that haunting feeling I’m getting from him?”
“I-I-I don't know,” Eliot responded. “I don’t know what happened, but it at least looks like he won.”
“I guess,” Zander agreed. “I still don’t think we should make ourselves known. Something doesn't seem right. Let’s just wait and see what he does.”
Ok,” Eliot said.
“Agree,” said Hal. “But I’m gonna keep my gun ready to go, just in case.”
As quietly as they could, they watched the sulking figure of their best friend saunter toward the obelisk. As he walked, some kind of dark liquid dripped from his body, leaving a trail behind him. No matter what was in his way, he walked right through it like it was nothing. If it took too much effort, then his blackened arms would shove it to the side like it was made of paper. Trash bins, cars, stones, lamposts—they all moved aside for him.
When he made it to the base of the obelisk, he reached his hand out and touched the surface. Within the blink of an eye, that monstrous feeling in the air evaporated. His black arms disappeared, leaving his regular arms in their place. And just as suddenly, Vincent collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
“VINCENT!”