The Girl behind the Red Glass - 1774, SEPT 21st, Wednesday.
In a familiar surveillance room sat a chipped yellow mug that had the label GROSSLY PRAISIN on it. Near this mug was a bright pair of yellow goggles. Inside these goggles, under the top thick plastic bar, was the engraving JACK, THANK YOU FOR BEING MY SUN. On one of the security monitors, a door buzzer went off.
“Open the door.” The intercom said.
Jack, the boy who helped Noche escaped, woke up from his nap and put his goggles back on.
“What do we say?” he asked.
“Now…”
Jack stared at the monitor. In that hall stood the orange haired boy in the stray jacket; he now looked twenty-one. He stood impatiently before the locked door. Jack pressed a button and the door unlocked.
“You’re welcome.” Jack said pleasantly, then leaned back into his chair with a sigh.
The orange haired boy walked through the open door. Compared to the neon white brightness of the hallway behind him, this room was nearly pitch black. At the far end of the room was a meter-thick red glass barrier, with large ventilation holes scattered every foot apart. In vivid white text above the glass wall where the numbers 19-16-01-18-11. Beyond the red glass, the room inside looked like a prison cell. This sight caused the calloused heart of the orange hair boy to feel a throb of pain and sorrow. While the obnoxiously loud heavy metal music did annoy him a bit, it didn’t deter his hidden feelings.
A whirl of red hair went in a circle as his sister, Spark, head-banged with all her heart to the music. Standing at seven feet tall, she was a giant with hair that went down to the floor; if it wasn’t being spun about. She wore simple ragged brown pants and a dress like shirt that curled up near her right thigh. The dress shirt was magenta with waves of purple in the lower middle. Three stars were on the front of this shirt near the top, middle, and bottom.
He waited patiently as she started whipping her head up and down, it looked like someone beating a rug. It looked so stupid that it was enough to break a smile on his face; albeit a very small one. The smile quickly faded when the lyrics started and she joined in with her death scream. While the dancing was amusing, this, was not. He coughed… And wasn’t heard.
“What did I expect?” He thought.
He then kicked the glass with enough force to dent a steel plate; the glass didn’t even scratch. The sudden impact knocked the radio off the bed and Spark was so shocked she fell flat on her ass.
“GOD! FUCK! YOU SCARED ME!”
She burst out laughing.
“Can’t you ever ask nicely for my attention?”
The orange hair boy look exasperated.
“I DID!”
Spark laughed harder.
He couldn’t help but smile too, until he saw her arms. Or rather the stubs that ended shy of her shoulders. Both her arms were missing and in their place were little stumps about a few inches before the biceps. A cold pit formed in his stomach as his eyes trailed to what was her legs. In their place, right below the knee, was metal spikes sharpened to a fine point; making it impossibly difficult to stand on.
“Four times.” He thought, “No… Five… I can’t forget Noche.”
He closed his eyes at the thought of that. When he opened them, he put the calm mask on again.
“Your dancing look stupid.”
Spark looked aghast.
“How DARE you!” She laughed, “Lets see you try to head-bang with that massive cowlick you got going on! Thing looks like a damn spike.”
“My hair is practical. So what it’s a little messy sometimes?”
“Yeah yeah, well headbanging is the easiest thing I can do these days.” Spark said, “I’d try dancing, but it can pretty hard to move slowly on these.”
Spark walked over to the radio.
“Man… Ya had to knock it on the floor.”
“… Sorry.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it.”
Spark carefully raised her leg and used the razor tip to press the off button. She nearly lost her balance, but gracefully slammed her head onto the glass.
“Well, I think we can mark ballet off my bucket list.”
“You didn’t seem to have much trouble waving your hair all over the place.”
“THAT’S DIFFERENT!” Her cheek pressed into the glass, “Its easy to stand still, or run for that matter… But moving casually is difficult.”
“If you say so.”
Spark had a slightly annoyed face with a faintly crooked smile.
“Stubborn piece of-” She thought.
She rolled her eyes.
“Its good to see you.” She said, “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you had another mission?”
“I finished it earlier than expected.”
Spark frowned slightly, a wave of concern for her brother. She knew he was pushing himself too hard, not that that stubborn bastard would admit it. Still, he had to stop. He was going to hurt himself. She didn’t care if she got hurt… more. As long as her brother could finally, FINALLY, stop suffering.
Looking at his sister, all he could feel was wave after wave of regret. He wasn’t good enough. He had to be better. Work harder. Ignore the fatigue, push harder. He could NOT allow what happened to Noche to happen to her. Not his sister. He would push himself and the world would break before be did. He had to make sure she would never suffer again.
“Don’t push yourself too hard…” Spark said “You’ve rarely failed.”
“Rarely is still five times too many.” He said.
Spark was taken aback, she looked towards her missing arm. Then back at her brother. There was a wave of sadness, not for her own body or situation, but for how he was treating himself. If only she could convince him she was ok now. But he wouldn’t listen, he wanted to carry that weight.
“Well hey, not much Edward can take from us now.” Spark smiled jokingly.
It didn’t work, he was still moping.
“That’s not true.” He said.
She sighed.
“Spark’s pushing herself. She’s doing it for my sake. Trying to act positive so I don’t have to worry for her.” He thought, “What am I doing, making life harder for her? Forcing her to smile when she doesn’t want too.”
“You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.” Spark said, “I know you still blame yourself for Noche’s death… But it’s not your fault!”
“FIVE TIMES!” He shouted.
Spark paused. Fear, concern, and sadness all intermingled in her. But none for herself.
“Noche is another pile of ash in the furnace because of my failures. You lost your limbs because of my failures.” He said, “Everything is my fault.”
“Its been two years… You didn’t know Noche was going to run into that room. Its not your fault, you couldn’t have stopped her if-”
“IT IS MY FAULT!”
It was silent.
“I…” he paused, “I allowed her to get close to me… I… I treated her like a friend.”
Spark couldn’t talk. She wanted to say something. To comfort him. But she couldn’t find the words. Even if she did, she wasn’t sure if they would come out.
“Because I LET her see me the same way… She thought she had to help me… I should have known better with the surface scout culling… With Oscar…” He said, “If I had pushed her away, she would still be alive now… But I was weak… I was lonely… I wanted a friend… And because of me, she died.”
“That isn’t-”
“It is true.” He said, “So yes… It is my fault.”
He paused. The look on Sparks face, it hurt him. It hurt too much. He felt like shit. He was the worst thing in the world. All he did was bring suffering to others. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough. HE WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH!
He took a deep breath.
“I’m… I’m sorry.” He said, “I don’t want to lose you too.”
“… I understand…” Spark said.
They were both silent for a long time.
“I have to get going…” He said “I’ll… be back soon.”
“Y… Yeah…” Spark said.
He turned towards the exit and walked away.
“HEY!”
He turned around.
“Stay safe… Please… For me?” She said.
He paused.
“Yeah…”
The doors closed, and they were separated even further. Lowering his head, he fought back the feelings of guilt. Locked them away. Then diligently prepared for his next mission. On the other side of the door, Spark raised her head.
“Edward… If you didn’t have me trapped in this room, I would destroy everything you own!” She thought.
Spark sighed and lowered her head. Then she noticed her something on the floor.
“OH GOD DAMN IT, MY RADIO!”
Elsewhere in DeathTech, in a room with purple and orange wallpaper, sat President Edward in a regal red velvet chair. His rubbery face bent backwards in an almost cartoonish way as he yelled at the phone.
“No we don’t want to buy in bulk… Wait… Wait. Did you say guns?” Edward paused, “Yes… Yes we do have a problem.”
He paused, the chuckled.
“Alright, alright. So let me get this straight. You don’t see a problem with buying DriveMetal, the strongest, AND RAREST, metal on the planet… In bulk… AS GUNS!!!”
There was another pause.
“Well that depends. I’ll give you 24 hours to fix this mistake.” Edward said, “Get rid of the evidence, make sure it isn’t traced back to us. If you are successful, I might just let you live.”
Edward hung up the phone and pinched his throbbing forehead.
“Amateurs… I might have to send my scout to that DriveMetal factory.” He mumbled.
The thought of pushing that orange hair child to the breaking point did fill him with glee. Maybe this was for the best after all. Making him suffer did sound fun. He stood up with a sigh.
“Other matters first.” He thought.
Moments later, Edward arrived before a restricted access door. It opened to reveal a giant room, and more importantly, Professor Grim chained to a metal railing nearby. He stood next to the tip of a massive nuclear missile. Beyond him, in this room that went on for miles and miles, was endless rows of them.
“Hey pal, remember me?” Edward chuckled “How’s your head holding up?”
Professor Grim stared at him with confusion.
“Just kidding, I don’t care… How’s our nukes?” Edward asked “We’re gonna need these bitches for the holidays.”
Edward waited for a reaction but Grim turned away.
“Geez, tough crowd.” He said, “Well, now we’ll have enough missiles to fuck the world 3 times over.”
Edward turned away, a grin plastered across his unnatural face.
“Let’s see how Cross deals with this.”
Timmy vs the Cloaked girl - 1774, SEPT 21st, Wednesday.
Back near the clocktower, the blind girl in red stood before a brilliant flashing light. She stood there for quite a bit, as she waited and pondered.
“I wonder if this is that mafia place?” She said, “If only there was some way to tell.”
In bold letters, the word MAFIA was written on a giant neon sign that stood before her.
Under the yellow sky, caused by the sunset, the cloaked girl and man in white stood on the rooftop. Together they loomed over the man in brown who stood in the town square.
“You snuck unto my mission.” The man in white said, “So you deal with him.”
“FUCK YEAH!”
The cloaked girl said as she pumped both arms inwards. The man in white turned to look at her as she gave a nervous glance back; he was unamused. She jumped down three stories and landed uninjured on the ground; one knee bent and her fist on the concrete.
Simultaneously, the blind girl kicked down the Mafia’s front door. Both girls were in different places, yet said the same thing at the same time.
“Sup.”
The mafia thugs all turned to the blind girl.
“I heard this place was dangerous… Not a pizzeria full of greasy old men in three piece suits.” She said, “Well, while I’m here, I’ll have extra pineapple.”
They open fired.
Meanwhile, the cloaked girl stood up and faced the man in brown.
“All you do is blow things up.” She said, “You’re the only person I know who blows for a living… Tell me, do you spit or swallow?”
The man in brown was not amused, a cold sweat trickled down his temple.
“She’s a Cross soldier. A Create User. I’ve never fought a fellow Create User before.” He thought, “I heard they’re really tough because of their Augment… Is that why I was able to run so fast and jump so high? Because of Augment?... Wait, focus… The point is she’ll be tough.”
He quietly gulped.
“AHH SWALLOWER!” She shouted.
Ignoring her, he mentally prepared himself to not hold back. Nearby, crows landed on the town hall building. Gray clouds drifted overhead, as the cold sea-salt filled breeze caused the girl’s cloak to flap. Aside from the wind and whipping fabric, the world grew silent between the two of them. The man in brown created dozens of bombs, almost as if they appeared out of thin air, and launched them all towards the cloak girl.
At the same instant, the mafia had just open fired at the blind girl. Hundreds of guns fired at her location, tearing the door to shreds and filling the floor with dust.
“Female, red outfit, bandages on her eyes, and showing up where she don’t belong.” A guy said, “It all matches. I can’t wait to collect the bounty.”
Eventually the gunfire stopped and they waited for the smoke to clear. Unharmed, but strangely a bit on fire, the blind girl stood amused. A few quickly raised their guns to shoot again, but this time she easily dodged them. The bullets that did skim her seemed to leave wisps of fire in their paths; instead of blood. A moment later, most of the guns were melted in half by what appeared to be a flaming wagon wheel.
It flew at a ridiculous speed that was too fast to follow with the eye, slicing each gun like butter. Raising her hand, the blind girl caught the flaming hoop effortlessly. A wicked grin split the blind girl’s face as she raised her other bandage covered palm; faint burn marks revealed in the gaps. A little ball of red-gold energy appeared and floated above her hand. A moment later it erupted into a massive flame. Making the wicked grin appear like a horrendous smile.
Back at the town square, the cloaked girl gracefully dodged over the barrage of bombs with a backflip. Landing deftly, she ran straight towards the man in brown. However, he had a bomb hidden behind his back. When she approached, he threw it right at her face. She dodged by sliding under the bomb. Then slamming her hand downwards, she did a spin kick with both legs.
They seemed to be pretty evenly matched, as the man in brown jumped out of the way just in the nick of time. He threw another bomb as he dodged, but the cloaked girl did a summersault and tucked under it. Her feet planted on the ground, she did a front flip over his head and landed behind him. He was prepared this time, throwing a punch as soon as she landed. She blocked with her left arm, but the punch manage to push her back a few feet regardless.
“I did that?” He thought, “With a single punch? I sent her flying that far?”
She rubbed her arm in pain, in the process a part of the cloak slid down and revealed a forearm that severely lacked muscle.
“Wot in the… She’s that strong with arms that thin?” He thought, “Augment, is incredible… But wot made her so skinny?”
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