Cold.
Pronounced by a lack of the warmth of normal human emotion, friendliness, or compassion.
chk—! THUNK!
"Ah—! My back—! Gentle, you damn morons!"
My body hits something hard.
Way too hard.
My spine bends wrong, and my head slams into something cold. Metal, maybe. At this point, it hardly matters. The impact sends sparks behind my eyes, lights bursting and sliding through the dark like shifting headlights in the night.
"Help me—"
The words barely make it out.
Are they coming from me?
I can't hear what anyone says next. My ears ring too hard, and the noise around me smears together into something useless.
"Take off her..."
Something like that, right?
I wouldn't know.
My torso screams.
No, my whole body screams.
Every little movement sends hundreds of needles through my skin, stabbing from the inside out.
"Wake—hey…"
Stop.
Stop shaking me, you dumbass.
Can't you see I'm trying not to move?
Every push, every pull, every stupid hand on me makes my head throb harder. Pressure builds behind my eyes until it feels like something might split open. My teeth clench on their own while my breath catches halfway in my chest.
I try to stay still, trying to glue myself to whatever the hell I'm lying on.
And right when I try to breathe in—
"Hk—ngh! K—h!"
"Cough! Cough! Whatthe hell, man?!"
My voice came out with no sweetness in it. My throat felt dry and raw with every swallow, and then the smell hit me.
Fuck—what even is that?
Acrid, with a chemical edge sharp enough to hurt. It claws straight up my nose and forces more coughing out of me while my hand flies up to rub at my dirty face. My eyes water instantly.
I force my eyes open—and they burn even worse.
It feels worse than getting pepper sprayed.
What the fuck did these people put in this shit?
I don't even get time to think before a bright light slams into my face.
"MY EYES! TURN IT OFF!"
I yell without thinking, my lungs screaming, my arms flailing everywhere. My hand catches something—someone's clothes, anything, I don't care. I yank hard, trying to drag whoever it is closer just to block that damn light.
Another grip digs into my shoulder and shoves me back down.
Hard.
Confusion floods my veins, thick and heavy like ink. My eyes flutter, refusing to stay open or shut. Shapes crowd around me like a blanket of black.
I cant see them.
I fight without direction, shoving back, cursing.
The thick acrylic covering their helmets comes into focus in pieces—grime smeared across it, scorch marks eating over parts of it, others cracked, some outright shattered.
A few of them didn't even have helmets. Their racial features show through right away. I'm sure I've seen these people somewhere. Maybe it's the clothes they wear. Maybe it's the way they move.
Whatever.
I tear one arm free and shove one of them off me with everything I have, then drive my leg into the nearest person's groin.
My hand comes up on instinct, my palm opens up while shaking and I lock my eyes on the same person.
I stare and will it. Blood rushes to my head, pounding behind my eyes.
I yank my hand back toward my chest like I'm pulling a cord.
He—no, whoever it is—jerks forward violently. Their body pitches down like something invisible grabbed them and slammed them toward the floor.
Heavy.
SNAP!
The acrylic visor fractured with a sharp crack. Shards broke loose from the helmet and scattered like leaves.
Hands grab me again. Too many to count, and much harsher than before. I twist and shove at whoever is holding me.
The struggle becomes too much.
The table—no, gurney—tips over, knocking me down like I weigh nothing.
My body slides off the edge and slams into the floor on my side. The impact punches the breath out of me. Pain shoots through my ribs and arm at once, freezing me mid-scream. My vision stutters like a grainy film while my teeth bite down.
I'm pretty sure a few tears started running down my cheek.
Something screamed.
It didn't matter if it's me or just my imagination.
A scream is a scream.
A sound follows—metal buzzing. Every pitch rings clearer than the last.
The hum crawls from near my belt outward, echoing through the space around me.
And then—
KR—RNNN—g…!
All at once.
Every sound hit me together.
The entire room slammed into my ears in one overwhelming surge. It left me distorted...
Disoriented.
"hff—hff—HFF!"
Was I always breathing this hard?
"Ar...ood...see? Al...good?"
I lift my head toward the voice inching closer. The blurry face peels apart in uneven patches until the figure sharpens enough to make my eyes hurt.
Lucas.
Look at you. No stupid grin on your face anymore, huh? Damn ghoul.
His blue and white hair is plastered to his head in ugly clumps, sticking out like wet branches. Grime smears his face, sweat cuts pale lines through it, and his eyes look like he hasn't slept since the world started burning.
"Say something you fool. And, put your hand down."
He said, his voice low and exhausted.
Huh? I'm not a fool you dumbass, you are.
"Some...t-thing. Hehe-argh...fuu."
The moment I tried to pull in a deeper breath, my chest lit up with white-hot pain. I looked down and finally noticed the back of my hand—covered in band-aids, my grip locked tight around my casting device. Tight enough that the little screen on its so-called ass kept flickering on and off.
Slowly, I loosened my grip on it. My hand shook while I lowered it, fumbling at my belt before finally clipping the device back in with fingers that fought me every step of the way.
Lucas edged closer, careful this time, until he was standing right in front of me. Everyone else seemed to calm down after that and promptly fucked off somewhere.
"It reeks in here." I muttered. "Sulfur…smoke?"
The smell clawed into my lungs the moment I breathed again.
"Just stay still, will you?" Lucus said. "I can't mend your ribs if you keep movin' like that."
I ignore him and push myself upright anyway, reaching behind me to brace my back against the fallen gurney.
Damn it, so much for a backrest.
Lucus clicked his tongue and shot me a glare sharp enough to cut nothing.
That's right. Stay mad.
He drops his pack beside him and yanks it open, digging around before pulling out something shaped like an insulin pen. Mostly blue, with a bright green cap.
I don't even get time to protest before he pops the cap off and jams it into my side.
"Wait—!"
A sound tore out of my throat—something I would rather not describe, for the sake of my reputation.
"H—hk—! F-fuck—Luc—!"
The pain only lasts a few seconds.
Honestly, I wanna dig a hole and just disappear into it.
Numbness spreads across my side, warm and pleasant.
"fffhhh…haa…"
And fuck me, it feels good.
No wait, I think I'm losing it.
Lucas goes right back to work, doing whatever it was doctors do. He unhooks a battered fanny pack from his backpack, pops it open and starts laying things out over a rag that looks mostly clean.
I stop watching halfway through and tilt my head back, fixing my eyes on anything that isn't his damn awful face.
Groans and curses drift through the space around me. Someone yelled, then someone else yelled louder. Harsh but concerned words followed—jargon, probably.
At least, that's what it sounds like.
My head is still killing me...every time I try to think back, all I get is...nothing.
And above everything...why the hell is it raining again? It was just clear hours ago.
Nah, it's fine, I'm fine. It's not like it doesn't smell like dog and sulfur in here.
The air feels thick and damp.
Nope, not doing this.
Absolutely not.
I hook my fingers under the soaked outer layer and start unzipping it...just...give me a second...why...why is this so damn hard?
"Hold still." Lucas mutters.
"Go on somewhere, OI! Stop staring! Shoo."
I finally wrench one sleeve free, then the other, and dump the damp mess next to my feet.
A moment later, I lift my hand enough to see it clearly.
The bracelet around my wrist glows softly, the small screen lighting up with the current time.
I twist my wrist the same way you'd turn the key to your house and a screen materializes into view.
Nothing like a video game. That would've looked stupid if some blue box just popped out of nowhere, no wait, I just sounded really stupid right now. It was an opaque display with softened edges, my usual background faintly settled behind it.
I flicked a finger through the air like I was scrolling then pulled up the map and of course, it took forever.
What greets me is the city rendering itself from the bottom up, layer by layer, until the place I'm in snapped straight into the center.
You ever seen one of those professional 3D animations?
It looks just like that. Absurdly detailed.
A park sits in the middle, its greenery rendered, its name hovering above it like a label. Whoever made this must have a lot of money though, no way in hell would anyone make this for free.
And there I am, looking down at it through a screen from an angle like some camera floating overhead.
Off to the side sits a simple white circle with two dots for eyes. Thin white streaks—rain, apparently—hammer into it nonstop.
Why was it that in moments like this, I always fixated on the most useless shit?
I shook my head and dragged my finger upward.
The ground level lifted away, peeling back to reveal what sat beneath.
A parking lot.
Three different entrances connecting us to the surrounding street.
"Done."
Lucas's voice finally cuts through the noise after what feels like forever. He packs his things quickly, moving on autopilot before glancing up to meets my eyes.
"It wasn't that bad, was it?"
I opened my mouth before he could say anything else.
"Notthatbad? You stabbed me in the side! You know, for a second there, I thought maybe you'd gotten worse at this, which would actually be impressive considering where you started. Do you practice on dead shit first, or do you just wake up and decide I'm the best available target? Also, where's everyone else? He was right there, and what the hell happened to the—"
Tok.
rub rub rub.
Lucas looked down at me with the flattest, most exhausted expression I'd seen on his face in...days.
"Stop acting like that."
I blink.
"Like what?"
"Every time shit hits the fan, you start acting cute like you're her." He shoved a hand through his ruined hair. "It feels disgusting. Sit down. Shut up. And eat something."
My mouth hangs open for half a second.
Wow.
Okay.
"Way to make a girl feel confident. No wonder she left you."
His hand grabs the back of my shoulder and forces me down onto the nearest crate hard enough to make my ribs ache again.
"It's still warm," He mutters, shoving something wrapped into my hands. "So eat before I make that your next problem too."
"Wow. Look at you. You really know how to treat a lady."
"You are literally sitting in a parking lot under a park with blood on your face. Who the hell is supposed to look at you right now and think, yeah, 'that's a proper lady? I'd like to get to know her better' You act more like a man than me."
He snorted through his nose and stood back up, already turning away.
I peeled the wrapping back and found a dense, greasy hamburger.
Probably microwaved.
The bun looked half baked, one side darker than the other, the cheese fused into the meat.
A moment ago I'd had no appetite at all. Now my stomach had apparently remembered it needed food and twisted itself into an awful knot.
I tore off a piece with my fingers and shoved it into my mouth.
I chewed and my jaw protested, my throat was so dry even the grease felt dusty going down.
Still, I took another bite.
Halfway through, I wiped my hand on the wrapping, then on my pants. My fingers that were trembling ceased. My breathing too had settled somewhere close to normal. Even the pounding in my head had stopped.
The noise around me faded to white while I ate.
All this rain is turning this whole show into a foggy mess.
More water rushes down from a ventilation block overhead, splashing into a puddle that grew larger by the second.
A few feet away, something catches my eye.
I lick grease from the side of my thumb and look down at what's left.
One more bite.
Then another.
A broken piece of mirror propped against a crate.
Convenient.
I looked over without thinking and caught my reflection in it.
Dark lines sit under my eyes, heavier than usual. There's a cut on my cheek, a faint copper smear dragging beneath it. My hair looks like something tried to pull me through a drain and got bored halfway.
Lovely.
And then.
It felt like a bucket of water came down over me.
No, literally.
A sheet of water crashed over me from above, soaking straight through my clothes and running down my face in cold streams.
When it cleared, the blood was gone from my skin, mostly just dirt however.
I looked back at my reflection and my features finally settled back into themselves.
That's...
No.
With a flick of my wrist, my bracelet turned back on. An opaque screen materialized into view, the icons blurring away as I pulled up the map.
Nothing.
No map this time. No pretty little city peeling itself open for me. Just a static grey line twitching across the screen like a wave.
Step.
By the time I noticed, I was already crossing the parking lot exit.
The ramp ahead drags upward, slick with runoff and oil. Every step dampens my shoes. Every loose strand clings to my cheek.
I kept walking. One step after another.
Until the shelter above gave out and rain greeted me.
It slaps against my skin, stinging.
Ah...
I'm really losing it, aren't I?
Around me, figures loitered under whatever cover they could find. Their faces blurred in the downpour, like someone had sketched them over in a hurry.
"Hey!"
My steps slowed on command.
"There you are, dear little Vaurie." The voice called again, closer now. "Don't turn around."
"Seriously. Don't. I'm working with a limited amount of dignity right now."
"What dignity?" I muttered. "I'm pretty sure you never had any to begin with."
"Huh. Why don't you look at yourself first?" The cheerful voice shot back. "You must be really pissed off if you're standing out in the rain like that."
"And you must've gotten real bored if you're talking to me like we're all buddy buddy."
"Ouch. Right in the feels.~"
I finally glanced sideways.
A woman stands a short distance from me, an oversized hood swallowing most of her face. Rain slides from the edge in uneven drops, breaking the shape of her mouth before falling to the ground.
In her grasp was steel, encased and worn, water running down its length in thin silver trails.
"You look like shit." I said.
She shifted her weight a little, her boots rubbing on the concrete.
"Oya, its not like you can see my face."
"Where is he?"
Even though her face was hidden, I could feel a smile forming behind it.
"Straight to it, huh?"
"You know." She said lightly. "Most people start with hello."
"Where. Is. He."
.
Fracture.
.
.
My stomach twists so hard it feels like it might fold in on itself. I lurch forward and open my eyes again—only to find my reflection staring back at me.
"Gh—hk—gh—!"
My chest heaves uncontrollably over the sink, every breath scraping on the way in and burning on the way out. My hands clench around the counter, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt.
Really, it's the only thing keeping me upright.
My skin is damp with cold sweat. My shirt feels disgusting against me.
I shouldn't even be wearing it.
We stay like that for a while. Me and the person in the mirror.
Until our breathing slow into one.
Hah...I need a shower.
I strip out of my clothes and toss them into a small, careless pile on the floor before stepping in. I turn the knobs until the temperature feels right and then the water hits my face all at once.
I close my eyes and let out a long breath.
My hands move on their own, rubbing and kneading at the tight knots buried under my skin. The steam sinks through my soreness, loosening muscles that feel like they've been stiff for who knows how long.
I twist my wrist and bring up a screen. My fingers scroll through the air before tapping the music icon, and my playlist bleeds into the bathroom, vibrating against the tile and glass.
My hair was a mess. A nightmare was what it was.
Too hard…too tangled…
There.
Hahhh, finally.
That takes way longer than it should.
And my feathered tufts are no better. Even they need attention.
I work my fingers through them in small circles, slow and careful, loosening the grime and whatever else clung to them. I rinse, rub, and rinse again until they finally feel new.
Clean enough that I can breathe through them.
Yeah…
I'm fine.
Swear.