Living in a technocolor dreamworld

"Stop speaking in riddles."

"Stop breathing air."

We both answered at the same time, "No."

I sighed at Chonk. Chonk the Faeline had been nothing but cryptic answers since I met it. We were travelling still, the road stretched on forever to wherever it went. It was lush, green, verdant...I always wanted to call something verdant.  Not too far from home, except here, here the colors were more vibrant, the experiences were richer. The scent of clover fields or something else nice because I'm not sure I've ever smelled clover.

The point is, this was the nicest part of the entire 'Underland' I'd seen.  We saw large moving trees, wrapped together like a statue made of parts of wood, that walked between the trees, not moving a branch. Chonk advised me to steal fruit from them, and with my stomach rumbling in agreement, I did so.

I'm sure that's not going to bite me on the ass.

We both ate, we drank from streams of water.  It was the wild, but it was the best wild I could ever imagine. Something out of one of those Miyozaki films, the romanticizing of an overland trip.

And Chonk here was my festive, snarky sidekick.

I sat, and finished off the fruit that I have no idea what it was. It had a sweet and bitter taste to it. I found myself disappointed I had only grabbed three.  For a sense of gratitude, I planted the pits of the fruits near where I ate them. That'd come across less awkward if I had a trowel or shovel.  Instead I was just one-handed trying to pry my short sword into the ground, and dig up a small hole.

Still, Karma +1, am I right?

I pressed my luck and started to grill Chonk again. It was cleaning itself, those big tuffed ears twitched, as it sensed my attention. I considered if the ears were a hint as to the lynx or bobcat heritage.

"This guy we're going to see." I started.

It continued cleaning itself. (I'm using gender neutral because I don't want to have THAT conversation with a fae), then looked up, "Yes. To see, smell, hear, vrinch, all the senses."

I gave it a sour look, Vrinch?  Its playing me for fun again.  "He's human, and has been here for a while...so the thought is that he can help me out?"

I've already gone over this with him, but apparently cats are still too clever for their own good, even in the Underland. Chonk likes to omit things, so far none of them have been life-threatening, but I've had a few moments of discomfort, as flower pollen got me high, or some sort of water thing took offense at me drinking from a creek I had found.

He's fun at parties though.

That's an assumption, I don't go to parties much.

Chonk pulled itself up and let that tail sway, "He was human, last I checked. Long enough that I remember him."

I nodded, "But his name was deigned to be beneath notice of your attention?"

Chonk raised its head, accepting the flattery. Cats are still cats, it seems. "Mortals usually don't stay for long."

I nodded, "Well then. Lets get me home before I get dead."

Chonk rolled a throaty purr, as I got up and started walking. It continued, "Seems to me that the two options....are the same."

I freaking hate cats sometimes.

Road to the Heavens

I walked with Chonk for a while, talking, learning. Its all too much to go into here, and I have to remind myself that the Fae...or the 'Good Folk' have a very orange way of viewing things, so what I hear may or may not be true...from a certain point of view.

Fun fact: Wards hold magic. Okay I get that much, but apparently the more precious the materials of it, the more pure and pristine and detailed it is, the more magic it can hold. I don't quite get it all, but it has something do to with the ward representing something about the spell.

Nifty, so all that item creation back in Star Ocean 2 was fairly spot on. Good to know.

Also explains why back after my revival, that I saw someone handing out those little beadsprite things, that looked like Norse runes.  Can't imagine that'd have a lot of magic in it, but hey, something better than nothing.

We walked.

I was used to that.

I got hungry.

That was a little less familiar nowadays.

We were walking because I couldn't "find my way home" according to Chonk. See, I used to be able to use this old 'Path of Black Leaves' to go from place to place.  I know it sounds stupid and made up, but in essence, it is effectively a different dimension that is something of a shortcut. You think of where you want to go, you exhale and invest yourself into it happening, and you just move there.

I learned that when I was possessed by a twisted tree spirit that had me out killing friendlies!

Ugh.

But today, its not so much the case.  Chonk commented on me being one handed, and tsked at me.  He was elusive, and aloof. A cat but moreso.  Made me think that maybe since I'm different, that what I do has to be different.

He's insufferable about being mysterious, too. However, I think overall, he's more help than harm.

We travel the meadows of a dry rolling land, away from where I've been. Even the Tower leaves my sight. There's fruits and plants, that seem familiar but not quite. Imagine going to Africa and eating tuber plants that remind you of carrots or rhubarb.

Out here. Way out here, its nicer. No monsters. No gaseous clouds or strange lightning. Its...

Unspoiled.

I spend the nights curled up, with the fat faeline next to me.  His purr is soothing, and he's warm. I drift off to sleep again.

I'm not content yet, but I'm starting to feel like me for once.

My soul finally starts to heal a fraction.

Questions for a cat

For ease of reading, I present to you a list of questions I had for the faerie critter I saved.

What is your name?   I can't tell you.

What was I fighting just now?    Hellhounds.

Hellhounds? Seriously?   They didn't look like Hellhounds?

They looked like Hellhounds.    So what's that hard to get?

Whatever. Do you live here?   I live wherever I am.

But is this your home?  Currently, yes. Soon, no.

Alright, wiseass.   So you DO know my name?

Wait, your name is 'Wiseass'?  No more than if I called you 'Idiot'.

Ugh. Alright, is this area, this ground that stretches out in all directions for a thousand times further than the eye can see, is this area where you have lived most of your life?    Yes.

Okay, so why were the hellhounds chasing you?   Do dogs not chase cats where you are from?

Are your world and mine so similar that that's obvious?  From where I sit, our worlds are the same.

I meant the world I was born in.   I'm sure there's more than a cursory resemblance.

As I understand it, this is what people from my home call Wonderland..or rather Underland.   I think your spatial sense is off. We're more of 'to the side and down'.

Okay, I need a name for you. Since we're in Wonderland and you're insufferable, can I call you Cheshire?

The creature tensed up, and looked alarmed at me. In the most serious tone I thought I could ever hear, he spoke, "Do not call me that name." I apologized.

I noted that he was something of a tubby one. I offered 'Chonk' as a substitute, he seemed fine with that. That got a smile out of me.

You know the one in the tower?   Dal Matia? Yes yes.  Owed mine a favor, she does.

What in the seven hells is she?   At this, Chonk looked confused. I rephrased

What is she? A Fear? Something else?   Much as I, an original inhabitant of a land unmade.

She's a Faerie?    Fae, not Faerie.  Faerie is the place, Fae is the creature.

You're a Fae?      A Faeline, specifically.

Seriously?    You seem surprised.

I shouldn't be.   And yet here you are.

I'm interested in heading home.   Stay where you are, it'll come to you soon enough.

....You mean that eventually this'll become home if I let it.      More if it lets you, but yes.

I want to return to Earth.   Have a safe trip.

You're coming with me.   Seriously?

Get your game face on

I drug my feet a little. I was leaving relative safety for the unknown. Twenty-Seven was pretty good about...Okay let me explain, she left the room one day, and came back, and I called her Twenty-Six, and she corrected me.  So Twenty-Seven it is until it isn't.

She was more standoffish than before, I think in whatever persona this is of hers, she was ready to see me leave. She tossed a bag at my feet, that was filled with random food assortments. She didn't say a word, so I took it as my cue. I was wanting to leave anyway, I just felt it'd be unwise to leave before I gathered up everything I could.  Which meant the scant food I had squirreled away was a fraction of what I was being offered.

I took the stairs down. Due to the hole in my shoes, I could feel the odd texture of the walkway beneath me as I plodded, and plodded and plodded. It was good time to think, to process what little I knew of this world.

I remembered that there was some caustic gas that made me seek shelter.  Was that part of the weather here? What the hell else was I going to run into? What natural environmental element was next? The area just turning into a pure vacuum, asphyxiating me or turning me inside out in an instant?  Quicksand?   I hadn't the foggiest.

I'm not a smart man, I left the shelter I had. A fool with one arm, a short sword, and no idea whatsoever of what I wanted to do now.

I had decided that I needed to get back home, such as it were.  For me, for anymore, 'home' wasn't any specific location. Home was anywhere in North America. If I could sleep under the stars without being assaulted by creatures from beyond my home dimension, I'd find a way to survive. I managed before, I'll manage again.

I can't explain how its like for the Path though.  On Earth, which is a really weird thing to ever have to say, I just want it to happen. I wanted it to happen to come here. And so it did.

Here?  Its apparently not that simple.  That was unexpected, but there was no sense of panic. I considered the possibilities as to why it wasn't coming to me, but I really had no idea. With no better idea in mind, I picked a direction and walked.

The area around me was pretty flat and barren. I saw some shapes in the distance, but nothing that really seemed compelling. The one thing I did choose to avoid was the structure that looked man-made. I figured that it'd be foolish to seek out whatever civilization built that tower. Given what I've seen here, I just didn't want to be outnumbered by anything.

And so I walked.

I wasn't sure what to make of my sojourn as I just put distance behind me. I have walked more than a hundred lifetimes so far, and after I started to daydream, to go onto autopilot, I suddenly drifted back into the Path. My heart raced as I regained my senses, only to find that I was still in Underland.

I needed a breather, which was true for mental reasons more than physical. I sat down on a large rock, near a hilly area to just regain myself. To let time slow, and let my sanity rebuild. I wasn't /there/ again. I wasn't cursed. I wouldn't just walk forever anymore. I walked for an age with a dull, autopilot need, this was reminiscent of that, but it wasn't going to lead me to the same place.

It was quiet.

Until the high pitched scream broke that silence.

I got to my feet, and drew my short sword as I tried to ascertain the source of the sound. It was strange, it was distinctly a yell of panic, but it sounded rough, inhuman, and weaker despite the need.

I took to the hill, climbing to find the source of the voice. I hadn't made up my mind if I was going to get closer to it, but in order to make an informed decision I had to figure out what /it/ was.

There was motion in the direction of the yell, about two hundred yards out.  Three dark shapes, and a smaller grey shape.  The yell stopped, as the grey shape turned directly towards me. I figured the grey animal, whatever it was, was making the noise. Chances were good that it made me as prey or some such. Given its speed, it was going to catch me, so there was little use to run especially since I couldn't just will the Path to me.

What surprised me the most was when it started talking.

"Faipact Faipact!" It yelled towards me as it ran for its life, being chased by dark creatures. I shifted my gaze from it to the creatures after it and back. It spoke again as it got closer, "Honor your pact! Your favor! Hurry! Save me! Kill them!"

This large cat for whatever it was worth, just spoke to me with full sapience. The thing actually hid behind me and peeked out, which made me the target for whatever was in front of me.

I looked back to the creatures and assessed them. They looked like they were hounds of some sort, grown from a twisted wood. Twisted wood ran up their bodies, contouring them in an overlay that reminded me of cartilage growth, every ounce of their frame locked in a state of being stretched.  Two large horns were mounted atop a skull-like face, giving it a hunched over four legged stance.

With little other options available, I defended myself.

I had never had the need to fight wolves or dogs. Whatever these things were, they clacked their jaws and moved in a very dog-like way, intentionally moving to surround me, flank me at every chance.

I'd like to say that I hewed them down, bringing down the blade in an intercepting course to dispatch each one during their attack.  Truth be told, I am kinda shitty at this swordplay thing.

For the better part of ten minutes, all I could do was fend them off. Constantly turning, desperately watching for which one was going to bounce in next, and snap at my hamstring or make a move for my throat.

I turned and turned, presenting my blade to whichever one seemed most daring at the moment, with a damn cat underfoot the entire time.

None of them would get close enough to eat sword, always bounding in and out, drawing my attention.

It came to mind that a lot of animals generally were killed after being exhausted. It was the struggle that'd kill most animals. A deer out of stamina was prey for the smaller predators. A gator exhausted was prey for the constrictor.

If they couldn't get my flank, they'd exhaust me to death.  I considered the fact, given I had nowhere to go, and no way to stop them.  Three minutes in, I threw my food sack aside in hopes of distracting them. They didn't even investigate.

The one thing that they did not count on, was that I've been doing a /lot/ of exercise since my death. Fortunately that has carried over into this life of mine. I just wouldn't fatigue physically. It preyed on my mind more, staying vigilant, staying focused, constantly trying to evaluate distance and direction.

I shit you not, the hounds started to tire before I did. It makes sense, now that I think about it. Who knows how long they were chasing this cat before it came across me.  It was an indeterminate amount of time as we went back and forth, posturing and positioning. One of the three made a bound forward, and had his feet slip out from underneath his head. I'm pleased to say I capitalized on that, and slashed at it, shattering the wood or bone into pieces right above its empty eyes. The creature crumbled, but even as it did, the hound behind me came forward, a yowl of surprise from the cat beneath me alerted me.  I turned to engage it, tripped over the cat and fell on my ass right on the rock.

It went for my leg, and managed a glancing bite, raking its sharp protrusions against my calf as it drew blood. At a time like this, I was glad I had a short blade, it was still useful in this situation. I brought it to bear, catching it in the jaw, which severed half of its connection to the rest of its sculptured head.

That broke morale among the hound creatures, and the two survivors scurried away.

I sat there for a few minutes as the bobcat recovered. I tested my leg, and could stand on it still. It'd do.  Nervous laughter filled my ears, as the cat spoke to me. "Eheheh...that was fortunate, Feipact! I was lucky to come across your sort out here. Lucky indeed! A debt repaid, yes yes. Debt repaid. Thank you and goodbye!"

It turned its back to me and went on its way.

Thirty minutes of tense standoff done, I was in a foul mood. Scowling, I snapped at him,"Stop. Right. There."

He did.

The big cat looked back at me, surprised. "What? What are you doing, Feipact? You cannot control me. We are even!"

I shook my head as I approached. He didn't move.  "Whats that word you keep saying, 'Feipact'?"

His yellow eyes grew wider, "Yes?"

I gestured, annoyance in my tone, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

It responded, surprised, "You've made a pact, yes. I see her upon you. The tower one, Machines and purpose. You are sworn to her, and she to you. Her favor is yours, and your favor was mine!"

I shook my head, "Feipact....you mean Fey-Pact."  I squinted as I regarded the feline. "I swore no such thing to anybody."

I've never seen abject horror in a cat before, except when I had to use a bad kitty bottle. It squealed, "No Pact?  No, no no no. No pact, the balance is off! There is no balance! Release me from the service, yes yes! There must be balance."

Balance?  Debt for debt. I didn't really know much about faeries, but I had always heard about favors from them, and that there was always a need to repay favors. I think I started to understand. It called in a favor from me because it thought I was of Dal Matia's. I gave it that favor it asked for, but there was no marker to call in.

It /owed/ me. And apparently that meant I had some sort of control over it, given how it did not move after I told it to stop.

I believe I just found my guide in the Underland.

With a weak smile, I bent down and said to the cat, "I have questions."

Recharge and Reequip

"I can just leave."

I stated it as a question, and she just kept that little knowing smile. Twenty-Six even gestured at the door, "I'm not stopping you."

I squint at her suspiciously. She'd been pretty upfront with me, but this isn't how it always went.

"That's not always how it was here." I said with a bit of heat in my voice. After she...wounded me like she did, I was locked in this little room, for what were apparently months.

Twenty-Six gave me a crooked look, "Did you really think you were going to go wander off in the wastelands in the shape you were in? That was for your own good."

Okay, that one pissed me off. I stood up, scrambling to express myself. It didn't work out too well, but I tried to yell at her. "Was this for my own good too?" I gesture to what used to be my left arm, now a mere stub with a metal cap on the end of it.  "Who the fuck gave you the right to just decide what I get to do?"

She didn't say anything, she didn't rise to my anger. She was also kinda sorta right in the second half of that deal.

I was delirious, emotionally reeling, and atrophied. Stepping outside was a death sentence. I probably couldn't have made it down the ever spiraling stairs.

I just fumed though, and she was nonplussed by it all, though she kept her eyes on me. I could've probably said more, but being enraged was just so draining.

"Did you know what she was going to do?"

Twenty-Six gave me that mysterious gaze beneath what I could only assume what eye shadow or something, the hood didn't help her, but her words felt earnest.  I felt I had learned a bit more about intuition of late.

She replied softly, "She likes to fix broken things."

"And I was broken."

She nodded, "That's all she wants to do. Fix things, improve things."

I raised my stump, "THIS is an improvement?"

She caught her mistake and raised a hand pacifyingly, "I thought maybe she'd fix your arm, not...that."

It took forever for me to continue, but eventually the moments passed.

"What is she?"

I got a shrug in response, "What's anything out here?"

"A Fear?" I questioned.  She shrugged again.

"Is she like the."

I paused.  God, it took me back. It took me back eight years.  How long ago was all that?  How much has happened in the world since all that?

Since the night I looked out my window and saw something unnatural, for the very first time.

"The Wretched Man?" I answered finally.

Memories just poured back into me. All the people I had met, all the community we had built. People just wanting to survive together.

We shared our stories, we hoped that we could learn something from each other. We tried to convince each other that we could survive.

Not many of us survived.  I can barely remember their names. Chester and Vieve...I think they made it. But how do you know?  I think it was Vieve who said that she felt like a cloud finally moved out from over her, and that she felt free. Is it so easy?

Twenty-Six looked at me as I processed some things that happened a hundred thousand years ago, but those memories came up fresher than I had ever recalled.

I looked at Twenty-Six, and wondered if she was one of our number once, but she'd always been so elusive on her own past.

"I don't think so.  She's inscrutable, and weird, but overall, she's not malevo.." She paused and raised a hand, knowing I was about to yell.  "She's not malevolent. She did it to help. Its just that she doesn't seem to get things like pain or trauma. She just fixes everything to what she thinks is right."

It sure felt like torture.

Yet, I was alive, I had survived a harrowing experience. The loss of my arm was a trauma from which I'll never recover. But I could learn to adjust to it, since I have no other choice.

She responded finally, "She just forgets what she's doing, and goes back to experimenting." I caught a look in her eye that told me measures.

Twenty-Six was one of those experiments.

"So why do you stay?"

With a bit of pain, she simply tells me 'don't.'  I don't push it.

She seems to relent that I'm leaving. I want to see my own world again.  I need to get back into contact with people, real people.  My investigation was a bust, and holy fuck my shadow's out there still.

God dammit. Maybe it doesn't come over here.

Alright, whatever, I'll see where that goes if it doesn't kill me.

She kinda just points at the corner near me.

I see a piece of shit sword in the scabbard against the wall. Its got some coloring to it, weird colors, purple and black, in the hilt.

I look back.  Twenty-Six says almost bored, "I gave her something to do."

I said off-handed, "This thing's supposed to be magic."

"Wouldn't be surprised." She said flatly.

"It....used to be a katana."

"Weeaboo." She snarks at me.

I looked at her, "This is the same weapon though? She reforged it?"

Twenty-Six says in her thick accent, "She does things. I don't ask why."

I drew it, and the piece of shit blade I've had for 100,008 years felt good in my hand. It was straight now, not a ninja-to. I think honest to god short sword. I only remember sword types from the old D&D groups, but it made me think more European than anything.  It had a crossguard she added. Thank god. It was tough as shit to parry with a freaking replica katana. The middle of that crossguard, made with some sort of dark metal, had a little hole in it.

As I stared at it, I saw little motes of energy cross through it.

"I'm going to regret this...but tell her thanks, I guess."

She started to say it, a smirk on her face.

We say it together.

"And all it cost you was an arm and a leg."

Time to Talk

"I'm not an edgelord." I say with the rote measure of someone who had to defend myself a thousand times.


 Twenty Six smirked at me, all necro-goth in her gear. "Sure." She replied skeptically. 


 "I'm not." I repeat.


 She doesn't believe me. 


 I roll my eyes and look away, "This isn't me being all angsty for nothing. I've got PTSD for sure."  "Uh-huh."


 She replies, "and you brood a lot."

I frown, "My life is dogshit, I'm missing a goddamn arm. Come on, you're going to tease me?  Do you thi.."


 And she interrupted me, "Did you 'not ask for this?'"

I just growled and suddenly developed a keen interest into the vague clouds outside my window. She adds as she leans forward, "You literally carry a katana."

I snap, "Yeah but I actually barely know how to use it, so take that! Hah!"

She sits on the chair. She's helping me cope, I know that's what she's doing. Sometimes you need to just have someone to talk to.

I've got a cup of ez-mac I've been working on. No idea how it got here.

She continues, apparently wanting to push more buttons.  Her accent is pretty thick. Boston, if I recall. "So uh. let me ask you."

"Here it comes." I say in an exhausted tone, but one that hopefully sounds permissive.

Despite being a prisoner here, she's treated me okay.

As I ponder if I have Stockholm Syndrome, she says "Rika."

I sigh. "Okay. which one?"

She idly says, "Both?", she's got her elbow on her knee, and that's holding her head up. She's acting pretty human for someone with...well I can only assume those are 'upgrades' I see on her.


 I just talk for a bit. "Rika. So the first one was just this proxy that was tormenting a guy I never met that was just called 'B'.  She decided to come get me for some reason. I did some stupid shit involving her."

She just looks at me.

I sigh, "is this about that ass comment?"

She smirks.

I shrug, "I was stupid, I was wanting to exert some sort of control over myself. I chose to pretend it was sexual for some reason. It was shit behavior to do, I get that."

I add before she goes any further, "She apparently got 'redeemed' or whatever, then immediately pasted.

Twenty Six says wryly, "Those severance packages..."

I answer it in unison with her, "really focus on the sever"

She prompts me, "The second one?"

"Erika?" I raise my eyebrows, "She terrified the shit out of me. She was really, REALLY freaking smart. She saw through my bullshit immediately, and played me for a sucker repeatedly. I couldn't help but think about how right she was. I mean, just because you're on 'the other side' doesn't mean you can't be right."

"So no sexual attraction then?" She follows up.

"She was utterly beautiful." I answer.  "Blue eyes, which is weird, probably contacts now that I think about it."

"Because she was black."

I nod and pause, "Is this where you tell me you know her?"

Twenty Six laughed a little, "I'm not that predictable, am I?  DId you fuck her?"

I blink.

"Did I fuck the proxy?"

"No. No I did not. She would've killed me."

"But you wanted to."  Now she's razzing me again.

I shrug, "Admittedly she was beautiful, and...well..." I manage a weak laugh, "Boobs are fun."

Twenty Six says wryly, "I know they are."

I wave my hand dismissively, "But no. I realized for the most part, I'm asexual. I never had much of a want, you know?"

She doesn't say anything.

"No real want to look for anyone either."

She doesn't say anything.

I just look at her.

The necrogoth finally responds, "But you /have/ fucked."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Once. Why the h-"

She cuts me off, "I'm curious! I'm stuck up here in this frankenstein tower twentyfour seven"

I raise an eyebrow and start to make the joke, but she shuts me down with a look.

I add, "This doesn't end with you propositioning me."

She laughs, "It doesn't /now/."

"Probably for the best." I admit.

There's some silence, so she goes for the throat again.

"Did you make her c--"

Now I interrupt her with an annoyed shout, "Oh come on!  Really?"

She laughs, "Alright alright."

I realize she's still playing me, and honed in on a sore spot. I point at her, "I'll get out of here someday, and you'll regret playing games with me."

She tilts her head, "What's keeping you here?"

I look about as surprised as she does. "Big wheely thing, part metal, part squishie, cut my arm off. Talks like Dracula or something?"

Twenty Six shows some teeth as she smiles, "The moment you get out of her sight, she forgets you existed."

Holy Crap.

I can leave.

Brought Low Again

I didn't want to go.

I didn't want to see her.

But I didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Injury has a way of debilitating you in all manner of ways. You find yourself not wanting to eat, drink, move...live.

You atrophy, and lose muscle mass.  Muscle relaxers for the pain? They work by destroying muscle mass, making it even worse.

I took a last handful of pills, all while Twenty-Seven just looked on, unimpressed. There was an odd lilt in her voice, something I couldn't place. "Well, at least you're eating something."

I didn't even try to jest.  But it was true, they made me hungry, and while I couldn't stand eating much aside from potatoes, I'm sure that without them, I'd have not even done that.

That sickening crunch and tear.  The sheer idea that to survive, you've got to force more trauma upon yourself.  Its impossible.

I remember taking some time back there, in that place before.

I had to look it up. Sanctuary.

They had TV, and I used to be something of a comics fan. So I watched TV, anything to numb the mind. Anything to quiet myself.  A chance to normal out if but a moment

I binge watch some marvel shows. Daredevil is fun.  I binge for a few weeks and then I have to stop

they bring in the Punisher guy. and they say he's constantly living in that exact moment when his family died.  He can't progress.

But is that me, or is that the me that I want to be?

The one that's hurt but not hurting, damaged but unbowed, accepting that I cannot move forward?

Do I want to be hurt so bad that I just can't feel?

yes

I need it to end.

She was kind enough to lead me back through the strange place. Stepping on ground made of little blocks like legos, and onto a staircase of glass whisps.  I don't know why it changes, I stopped caring after it happened.

She leads me into a thin door that we have to stand sideways to get through.  The lab's the same, and I pull away. There's nowhere to go to, but I do it anyway. I live at the whim of something beyond me.

Wheels squeak. A masked creature covered in metal plates, and hoses appears. Its eyes light up within a facemask of some dark metal.  It speaks to me in a weird accent. I can see a tongue moving in its face, but nothing else moves up there. Is it armor that hides what it is?

Picture like...

Shit, its impossible to really describe because she keeps changing what she looks like.  Okay, let me try.

Picture a xenomorph, skin half of it, cram it halfway inside a metal statue, so it gives some sembalance of a human element, and then drop that into a wheelchair.

There you go.

She talks in this weird, English-by-way-of-Google language too.  I'm trying to emulate that as I write, because ITS MY FUCKING COPING MECHANISM, GOD DAMMIT, AND I NEED TO FUCKING COPE.

Jesus Christ.

It examines that fucking stump from when she cut my fucking arm off.

An eye comes OUT of her facemask, looks around, then squishes as it gets pulled back in. I'm more concerned about what happens next, than what she's up to.

"bAlance?" She says. I didn't realize its a question. She just stares at me. Time passes, and I really didn't want to talk. I didn't even want to look at her. Every time I do, I just think about what she did.

The fucked up thing is that she doesn't seem either malevolent or remorseful.  I was a project, and she seemed to like her projects."

"No?" I finally answer. I'm back at the point I can't look at her.  That whine of her wheels just makes me flinch, and I start reliving things I shouldn't.

I feel something on my hand, and I open my eyes. I didn't realize they were shut.  Wet flesh, covered with a mucus or something. Slick.

She's touching me. She pulls on my arm, and I pull away.

I got triggered.  I pull back and scream, and try to flee, but I can't remember how I got here.  Was it a door, a trap door? did I just walk down a hallway?

I thought I heard someone call my name. I lost track of what was happening.

I woke up again.

Voices. It was her. Twenty-Six or Twenty-Seven. Maybe both. I don't care. I hear a few words of it. I hear the word 'trauma' and look about.

I'm back on a table of some sort. I remember seeing her wheel over, and then I pass out again.


I wake up back in what room I've been staying in. Its starting to become mine. I feel a little safer here now. Security. Just a tiny bit. What little things I still have, they are treasures to me, they are my memories, my identity.

I look at whats left of my arm, and find its been covered with something metal. A cap of some kind that covers it. Black metal.

And now I just try to process life again, for a little longer.