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 hit something hard. Way too hard. My spine bent wrong and my head slammed into something cold—metal, maybe. At that point, it hardly mattered. The impact sent sparks behind my eyes, lights bursting and sliding through the dark like shifting headlights in the night.
"Help me—"
The words barely made it out, were they coming from me? I couldn't hear what was said next. My ears were ringing too hard, the noise around me smearing together into something useless.
"Take off her...."
Something like that, right?
I wouldn't know.
My torso screamed. No—my whole body screamed. Every little movement sent 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 and pull made my head throb harder. Pressure built behind my eyes until it felt like something might split open. My teeth clenched on instinct while my breath hitched. I tried to stay still, tried to glue myself to whatever I was lying on.
And right when I tried to breath in.
"Hk—ngh! K—h!"
"Cough! Cough! What…the 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 was that?
Acrid, with a chemical edge sharp enough to hurt. It clawed straight up my nose and forced more coughing out of me while my hand flew up to rub at my dirty face. My eyes watered instantly.
My eyes forced themselves open—and burned even worse, It felt worse than when I was pepper sprayed. What the fuck did these people put into it?
Yet, I didnt have time to thing when a bright light slammed into my face.
"MY EYES! TURN IT OFF!"
I yelled without thinking, lungs screaming, arms flailing everywhere. My hand caught something—someone's clothes, gear, it didn't matter and I yanked hard, trying to drag them closer just to block the light.
Another grip buried itself onto my shoulder and shoved me back down. Hard.
That only made everything worse.
Confusion flooded my veins, thick and heavy like ink. My eyes fluttered, refusing to stay open or shut. Shapes crowded around me like a blanket of black. Almost everyone wore the same helmet, their racial features hidden.
I fought without direction, shoving back, cursing.
The thick acrylic covering their helmets came into focus in pieces—grime smeared across it, scorch marks eating over parts of it, others cracked, some outright shattered. The sight dragged memories out of me whether I wanted them or not.
A few of them didn't even have helmets. Their racial features showed through right away. I was sure I'd seen these people somewhere. Was it the clothes they wore? The way they moved?
Whatever.
I didn't care to listen to what they said.
I tore one arm free and shoved one of them off me with everything I had, then drove my leg into the nearest person's groin.
My hand came up on instinct, palm open and shaking while I locked my eyes on the same person. I stared and willed it. Blood rushed to my head, pounding behind my eyes—yet at the same time, it did not feel physical at all.
I yanked my hand back toward my chest like pulling a cord.
He—err... whoever it was—jerked forward violently. Their body pitched down like something invisible had 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 grabbed me again once again. Too many to count, and much harsher than before. I twisted and shoved at whoever was holding me.
The struggle seemed to be too much and the table, no—gurney tipped over. Knocking me down like nothing.
My body slid off the edge and slammed into the floor on my side. The impact punched the breath out of me. Pain shot through my ribs and arm at once, freezing me mid-scream. My vision stuttered like grainy film while my teeth locked shut.
I'm pretty sure a few tears started running down my cheek.
Something screamed, it didn't matter if it was me or just my imagination but a scream non the less.
A sound followed—metal buzzing, every pitch rang clearer now than ever before.
The hum crawled from my near my hip 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 lifted my head toward the voice inching closer. The blurry face peeled apart in uneven patches until the figure sharpened enough to make my eye twitch.
Lucas.
Yeah. It was every bit that annoying prick. Blue and white hair plastered to his head in clumped strands, sticking out like branches. The usual grin he wore was long gone. What replaced it looked worse—grime smeared across his face, sweat cutting pale lines through it, exhaustion dragging at his eyes.
"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 ignored him and pushed myself upright anyway, reaching behind to brace my back against the fallen gurney. The metal felt harsh through my clothes.
Lucus clicked his tongue and shot me a glare sharp enough to cut nothing.
That's right. Stay mad.
He dropped his pack beside him and yanked it open, digging around before pulling out something shaped like an insulin pen. One that was mostly blue with a cap bright green.
I didn't even have time to protest before he popped the cap off and jammed 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 lasted a few short seconds. Soon, a pleasant numbness spread across my side, bleeding into every place that hurt. A sigh of relief slipped out of me before I could stop it.
He slipped right back into action, doing whatever it was doctors did. He unhooked a battered fanny pack from his backpack, popped it open, and started laying things out over a rag that looked mostly clean. I stopped watching him halfway through and tilted my head back, fixing my eyes on anything that was not another tired face.
Groans and curses drifted through the space. Someone yelled, only for someone else to yell even louder. Harsh but concerned words followed—jargon, probably. That was what it sounded like.
My memory felt chewed up. I couldn't piece together how it all spiraled this bad.
And above everything.
Rain.
Not a drizzle, no.
Not a light sprinkle either. It was pouring.
I could hear it now, hammering down somewhere above us. The air felt thick and damp, my clothes clinging to my skin and weighing me down even more.
A moment later, I lifted my hand enough to see it clearly. The bracelet around my wrist glowed softly, the small screen lighting up with the current time.
I twisted my wrist the same way you'd turn the key to your house, and a screen materialized into view.
Nothing like a video game. That would've looked stupid if some blue box just popped out of nowhere. It was an opaque display with softened edges, my usual background faintly settled behind it.
I dragged a finger through the air like I was scrolling, then pulled up the map, which took a few long seconds to load.
What greeted me was the city rendering itself from the bottom up. The place I was in snapped to the center automatically.
You ever seen one of those professional 3D animations? It looked just like that—clean and absurdly detailed. A park sat in the middle, its greenery rendered so sharply it almost felt real, its name hovering above it like a label.
There I was, looking down at it through a screen, from an angle like some camera floating overhead.
Off to the side sat a simple white circle with two dots for eyes. Thin white streaks—rain, apparently—hammered 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. 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 cut through the noise after what felt like forever. He packed his things quickly, his hands moving on autopilot before he glanced up and met my eyes.
"It wasn't that bad, was it?"
I opened my mouth before he could say anything else.
"NotthatbadYoustabbedmeintheside!YouknowforasecondthereIthoughtmaybeyou'dgottenworseatthiswhichwouldactuallybeimpressiveconsideringwhereyoustarteddoyoupracticeondeadshitfirstordoyoujustwakeupanddecideI'mthebestavailabletargetalsowhere'severyoneelsehewasrightthereandwhatthehellhappenedtothe—"
Tok.
I froze, like a beast in headlights then rubbed at the back of my head.
Lucas looked down at me with the flattest, most exhausted expression I'd seen on his face in...days.
"Stop acting like that."
"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."
He grabbed the back of my shoulder and forced me down onto the nearest crate hard enough to make my ribs ache again.
"It's still warm." He muttered. "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."
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, it twisted 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.
Rain hammered above us hard enough to blur the whole place into a single white haze. The air smelled damp, dirty and metallic. My clothes clung to me in all the worst places.
More rain rushed from up top from a ventilation block, forming a puddle that got larger by the second.
A few feet away, something caught my gaze.
I licked grease from the side of my thumb and looked down at what was left.
One more bite. Then another.
A few feet away, something caught my eye.
A broken piece of mirror propped against a crate.
Convenient.
I looked over without thinking and caught my reflection in it.
Dark lines sat under my eyes, heavier than usual. There was a cut on my cheek, a faint cooper smear. My hair looked like something had tried to drag it through a drain.
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.
I looked back at my reflection and my features finally settled back into themselves.
Slowly, I peeled off my jacket and dropped it beside me before pushing myself to my feet.
With a flick of my wrist, my bracelet turned on. An opaque screen materialized into view, the icons blurring away as I pulled up the map.
Nothing.
No map. 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 dragged upward, slick with runoff and oils, every step damping my shoes, every loose stand clinging to my cheek. I kept walking anyway. One step after another.
Until the shelter above gave out and rain greeted me.
Rain slapped against my skin. My clothes clung to me in seconds, heavier than before.
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 desperate if you're talking to me like we're friends."
"Ouch. Right in the feels.~"
I finally glanced sideways.
A woman stood a short distance from me, an oversized hood swallowing most of her face. Rain slid 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 twisted so hard it felt like it might fold in on itself. I lurched forward and opened my eyes again—only to find my reflection staring back at me.
"Gh—hk—gh—!"
My chest heaved uncontrollably over the sink, every breath scraping on the way in and burning on the way out. My hands clenched around the counter, my fingers digging in hard enough to hurt— really the only thing keeping me upright.
My skin was damp with cold sweat, my shirt felt disgusting against me, I shouldn't even be wearing it.
We stayed like that for a while, me and the person in the mirror, till our breathing slowed just enough for us body to remember how to stand on its own.
Hah...I need a shower.
I stripped out of my clothes and tossed them into a small, careless pile on the floor before stepping into it. I turned the knobs until the temperature felt right—and then the water hit my face all at once.
I closed my eyes and let out a long breath.
My hands moved on their own, rubbing and kneading at the tight knots buried under my skin. The steam sank through my soreness, loosening the muscles that had been stiffened for who knew how long.
I twisted my wrist and brought up a screen, my fingers scrolled through the air before tapping the music icon, my playlist bled 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 took way longer than it should've.
And my feathered tufts were no better, even they needed some attention.
I worked my fingers through them in small circles, slow and careful, loosening the grime and whatever else had clung to them. I rinsed, rubbed, and rinsed again until they finally felt new—clean enough that I could breathe through them...
Yeah…
I'm fine.
Swear.