What Holds Us Back

Cue a few days of me running through the woods, circuiting around town, trying to avoid several human investigators, and one decidedly not, so now we're up to today again.

In that off time where I'm taking a few moments to reflect on how nightmarish my life has become, I examine what I have officially deemed the 'clicky box', or Mr. Clicky for close friends.  Thing is still moving, and still clicky, those little levers and such on it, which I have to remind myself was INSIDE someone, is still active, so it must have some sort of internal power source.

It *also* has something that could be writing in a language I don't know. Then again, I've also seen what Russian cursive looks like, and that is indecipherable.

Still, its in my best interest to give it a go.  Problem is, is that I figure Paperclip has given my number out to the cops, which means I can't answer my phone, JACK, because I don't want them doing that telemetry thing to me.

I honestly don't know if that really is a thing, but I'm in no mood to take chances.

So I circle back to of all places, Paperclip's house.  Why? I knew he lived alone now, I know what car he drives, his basic work hours, and the fact that the back of his house is close to the woodline.

I've made it a habit to learn all the exits near me, and stuff like that. You would, too.

His computer's unlocked, lots of tabs up and music and stuff, I just make a new tab, because I don't want to leave any bigger a trail here than I have to. I set the Mr. Clicky down on its....back? and start looking up obscure languages. Its a shot in the dark here, vaguely googling languages, taking photos with the phone and running them through reverse image lookup.

I got nothing.  It really could've been scratches for all I knew, but the lead turned out to be dead.

Soon, I'd follow.

I decided to engage in one last creature comfort before I ran off into the darkness. I used the lavatory.

So imagine my surprise when I come back out into the computer room and I see Mr. Clicky wasn't there anymore.

I drew. Too much weird shit goes on the moment you turn your back, so I did something stupid and smart simultaneously. I closed my eyes and looked for that little telltale purple aura that it emanated.

I saw a shape of similar color, humanoid, in the kitchen.

I did NOT want another confrontation like this. I started to pray to whatever forgotten god that would listen to a wretch like me, that this wasn't Paperclip come home early, or possessed or infected now, so then I'd have to behead two men in his family.

God, what if it was Matchbook?

What if it were my shadow?

I moved quietly towards the kitchen, and held back at the wall nearby. I closed my eyes again, to look for the figure. It wasn't there.

I spun around as fast as I could, my weapon up.

I had the right instinct, but the wrong defense.

I eat drywall, take out part of the wall and stagger back into the computer room.

 

"Magic" sword or not, you can't interpose a weapon against a stronger foe without getting impacted by it, you've either got to deflect the energy coming at you, or not be in its path. A good parry can do one or the other if you're prepared for it. Just holding the sword between you and she only works if you can counter that strength.

I could not.

I cursed to myself as I got myself back up and readied. She came into the room slowly, with purpose. A, presumably female, figure wearing an elaborate outfit that would suit something retro-futuristic more than modern day wear. All in all, she looked like a techno-nun with a face that gave strong skull motifs.

"Shit." I muttered, "Proxy bullshit? In my investigation? Its more likely than you think." 

She tilts her head at me, I go on about it, trying to summon an inner badass that isn't showing. "And if you tell me your name is Rika, I'm just leaving right now. But otherwise..."  I point to her hand, where Mr. Clicky is being held. "THAT sucker is mine, and I'm going to need you to hand it over."

Without much regard for me, I heard a hum and was sent into a tumble.

I sprawled against the computer desk, and smashed against the keyboard. It didn't matter now who this strange woman was, or how she knew about the death I was looking into. She was going to kill me. So much for Mr man, Mr zero my hero, and all that unwarranted praise I got. 

 

 I was just a mortal, and she was something else. I stood back up, and readied myself, cursing the fact I still wore this stupid ass outfit of mine. I needed more peripheral vision to see her. I tore off the mask, the hood. And I waited, as she watched me. 

 

And then something stupid happened... 

 

I heard clapping coming from the computer

 

 

I had hit the keyboard, and apparently hit enter just at the right spot, to play music.

 

This Music.

 

Why the fuck was it that song?

Fate was continuing its mocking jig at my expense, but I found some solace in hearing the tune. I was reminded of who I was eight years ago, or at least who I wanted to be. I still wasn't that person, I was never going to be that /warrior/ that we all dreamt of. But as Santa Esmerelda played on in the background, I decided one thing, 

 

That I wasn't going to die here.

I'm a scrapper nowadays, and admittedly I can take a punch, knife, or death squeeze pretty well. But I haven't quite built up an immunity to it.

She moved again, and this time I saw what she was doing. Her hand came forward and for about a second and a half, she was armed with some sort of staff or polearm or such.  It just popped right in as she moved, and disappeared the moment she stopped.

Invisible weaponry. Good Times

 

 I'm on full defense. I see her move her free hand, I don't do anything funny I just hurl myself out of the way. The drywall to my side explodes as I tuck and tumble.

"Son of a bitch! I was trying to be discreet here!" I snap at her.  

She's unfazed.

I see her start to move again, and move again, I catch some of whatever the hell that hit was, and hit the ground hard. It felt concussive, not edged, which means I have a better chance of a broken rib than arterial spray. 

I suck wind with some effort. "Okay...fuck this. Morningstar sends his goon after me, and you don't even get snappy, no retorts."

I ready my stance and stare her down, I'm ready for her.

She strikes, I go to block.

I'm not ready for her. My hands nearly go numb as I interpose the blade, its like hitting pure steel at full power. It doesn't give, *I* give.

Sword goes down, I would LOVE to grasp my numb hand, but that's the only one I have, so I am very much in a predicament.

Don't extrapolate on the fact that I'm writing this, btw. You don't know.

 

(Side note: I've decided to italics when people are talking to me, I think it'll help conversations read better.)

She speaks, and I place her accent as possibly somewhere in New York.  "Morningstar?"

I figure I can buy some time to get my hand back working again, and say with every ounce of glibness I can muster.  "Yeah."

She gives me what I would assume would be a wry smile, if it weren't for the fact that I notice her eyes aren't blinking. The very personification of some sort of tech-death cultist, and she's just being casual with me.

She continues, "You think I'm with that clown?", the figure reels and lets out a snort. "Please!"

I pick up my blade, and regard her, standing back up. "Okay...so a different side of Team Evil or whatever it is now."

She grins at me as she turns off Santa Esmerelda, "Team Evil?  Nah, man, just a girl with a job." I squint at her, "Is the job to kill me?" "You? Get over yourself! I'm just here to snag the thing."

Mr. Clicky.

"So you know what it does, or at least who it belongs to?" She nods, "Yeah, Mang."  As I talk to her, she unwraps some chewing gum and chews it.

This situation just keeps getting weirder, but I've struck a lead, so I press it. "Okay, can I get your name at least before you go back to killing me?"

She answers with a mouthful of gum, must've eaten three strips. "Twenty Six" I was about to say that wasn't a name, but then my own handle came to the forefront. I swallowed my protest and nodded, "Noted. Okay, Can I see whomever made this...Mr. Clicky?" I gesture at that item again.

Twenty Six nearly chokes on her gum. Well there was one win condition I hadn't considered. "Mister Clicky? Nice."  She looks at it, then shakes it offhandedly, "I don't know what it does, but yeah, I guess. Ole Dee Emm doesn't deal with company much. Hop a ride."
She ran two fingers over the air, and split reality in twain. I've seen it before. Hell, I *did* it before, back in the day, and the monochrome area within sent a chill through my bones.

A black leaf came out of that portal.

I shook my head. "Oh no.  Not there. I can't do that."

Twenty Six shrugged, "Geeze, make up your mind. First you wanna fight, then you don't. You want answers, now you don't.  You're like the verbal equivalent of a cocktease, ain't ya?"
How the fuck could I tell her about that damn place, what it did to me?

What happens if I go back there and I can't come back?  What if its like it was before?

I wave her off, I can't even look at the damn thing. I start screaming at her to just go.  Not afraid to say that I was just sobbing like a four year old, and slumped in the corner.

"Geeze, what's with you?  Well okay then, but iffin you're wantin to meet Dee Emm, you'd better get on the horse. These things move about pretty fast like."  She shot me a finger gun, pulled her hood down a bit more, and disappeared into the night.

And I couldn't follow.

I *can't* follow.