Chapter 7: Alabama Siblings Talk
I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes, letting the words roll out like a promise.
"Did I ever tell you what the definition of insanity is?"
"Insanity is doing the exact same fucking thing over and over again, expecting shit to change."
"That. Is. Crazy."
The words sliced through the brig's foul air, heavy with truth. My busted lip stung, blood crusted where that pimple-faced grunt smashed his fist.
The reek of sweat, piss, and rust choked my throat, but my mind was slipping, pulled somewhere else.
Insanity wasn't just a catchy line. It was my life, my curse, my sister.
My mind replayed what happened around a week ago. The scent of incense, the cold stone under my boots, it all flooded back.
I wasn't this scrawny kid trapped on a rusted ship. I slipped into a memory, back to the real me, the man Jason Brody gutted like a pig.
The temple slammed into me, a kick to the chest. Cold stone walls loomed, carved with freaky shit.
Creatures with too many eyes, wings, claws, and glowing portals that pulsed like they were breathing.
My adult body felt heavy, scars tight, the one Jason killed. I touched my chest, expecting blood, but it was just skin.
My heart pounded, loud in the quiet. What the hell? I died. I felt the knife, the dark. So why was I here, alive, in Citra's fucked-up sanctuary?
"Citra?" My voice was rough, echoing off the walls. The air was thick with earth, blood, and something ancient, like the temple was alive.
I knew this place, her little kingdom where she spun tales of warriors and destiny. But it was wrong.
Roots cracked the floors, and those carvings weren't Rakyat. They were alien, like a bad trip on jungle juice.
Jason, that bastard, his face flashed in my mind. He killed me, took everything. Was this his fault too? Or hers?
I moved, boots scuffing dust, each step dragging up memories: screams, chants, Citra's promises of power.
No gun, no knife, just me in this creepy maze. Corridors twisted, some caved in, pits stinking of death. I tested each stone, careful not to fall.
Citra, my sister, my shadow. I loved her, hated her. She made me a monster, but I let her.
A hum broke my thoughts, soft, like a twisted lullaby. Light spilled from a chamber ahead. I crept closer, heart racing, and there she was, lit by a single sunbeam.
Citra, decked in feathers and beads, her ceremonial gear screaming goddess. But her face wasn't smug.
She looked shaken, eyes darting. Floating around her was a weird thing, a star ripped from the sky, small, dark blue, with golden spikes and big, shiny eyes.
It orbited her, cooing, like she was its everything.
"Citra?" I stepped into the light, my voice sharper than I meant.
She spun, eyes wide. "Vaas? You're dead. Jason killed you."
I smirked, leaning against a pillar. "Death's overrated, hermana. What about you? Still playing queen?"
She glanced at the star-thing. "I woke here, in this chamber. This… creature was with me."
I stepped closer, eyeing it. A living gem, sparkling in the dim. "What the fuck is that?"
"No clue. But it's harmless." The thing floated toward me, curious. It stopped, tilting like it was sizing me up.
I tensed, itching for a blade, but it hummed, soft and sweet. "Like a damn puppy," I muttered.
It wasn't gonna hurt us. Too innocent, like a kid's toy. It floated back to Citra, nuzzling her arm, and she smiled, real for once.
Seeing her soft, it stirred something. Maybe we could rebuild, leave the blood behind. But with her, it was always a game. Always power.
"So, what's the deal? Why're we here with your sparkly pet?"
"This temple's ours, but it's different," Citra said, tracing a portal carving. The star chirped, orbiting her shoulder. "These symbols aren't Rakyat."
I scanned the walls... battles in starry skies, creatures stepping through glowing holes. "Looks like sci-fi bullshit. Another world, you think?"
This place, it wasn't Rook Island. It was a shot at something new, a life where we weren't monsters. But Citra... Would she see it? Or was she still chasing her goddess crown?
"Maybe," she said, her voice low, thoughtful. The star settled in her palm, purring. "What happened after you died?"
My jaw clenched. Jason. That fucker haunted me, his knife in my chest, his smug face. "You tell me. He gutted me. Then what? Your warrior now?"
I wanted to know, needed to. Did he win? Did he take my place?
Her face darkened, and she turned away, the star hovering close, like it sensed her shift. "He came back after you. We did the ritual to make him the ultimate warrior."
"It broke him."
"Broke him?" I raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. Jason, the golden boy, cracking? Part of me loved it, part of me hated him more.
"He went mad. Killed everyone around him, my people, anyone close. Screaming, crying, like his soul was tearing apart." Her voice was tight, controlled.
I snorted, but it stung. "So, pretty boy snapped. Poetic." He killed me, then lost it. Good. But why did it feel hollow? I wanted him to suffer, but this? It was too easy.
"It wasn't just that," she snapped, eyes flashing. The star cooed, brushing her cheek. "We stopped him, but it cost us. Many died. Then I completed the ritual, took his seed."
I grimaced, stepping back. "Spare me the shitty visuals sister."
Her rituals, her obsession with warriors, it was the same old Citra. I thought maybe she'd changed, but no, still the Rakyat queen.
Disappointment hit me, sharp. I wanted us to be different here, to build something real, not another fucking cult.
She ignored me, her voice low. "Then, above the temple, I saw something. A figure, huge, white like pure light, with a golden ring around it. Eyes that burned through me, like a god judging us."
SHWWEEEEEEWWW~~
I whistled, long and low. "Heavy shit." A god? Maybe this place was more than a second chance. Maybe it was a test.
"It was. Then Jason, he took the Silver Dragon Knife and stabbed me in the heart."
I froze, staring. "He killed you?" Jason, that bastard, turning on her too?
She nodded, touching her chest, like the pain lingered.
"I was fading, but I saw him turn the knife on himself, right through his chest. Then we fell, and this light swallowed us, bright, endless, twisting with colors and shapes, like we were pulled through a thousand worlds. Then I woke here."
I leaned against the wall, my mind racing. "So, Jason offed you, then himself, and now we're in this fucked-up temple with your sparkly buddy."
Jason, dead by his own hand. I should've felt good, but it gnawed at me. He took me out, took her, then ended it. What was left? Us, here, in this weird-ass place.
Maybe we could make it work, build a new life, no more knives, no more blood. But Citra, she was still her, still chasing destiny.
"Yes. This isn't our world. These symbols, this creature, they're not from Rook Island." Her voice was firm, but that goddess tone crept in, and it pissed me off.
She talked of a new start, but she was still playing the same game.
The star floated between us, eyes gleaming. Citra reached out, and it nuzzled her fingers, chirping like a happy kid. "It's sweet," she said, softer, almost human.
"Whatever," I muttered, but it was cute, like a toy you couldn't hate. It gave me hope, stupid as that sounds. If something this pure could exist here, maybe we could too.
"What now? We sit here with your pet, or what?"
"There's a way out," Citra said, her voice sharp, commanding. "Let's find it." There it was, the queen again. I wanted to shake her, make her see we could be more than this.
I nodded, pushing off the wall. "After you, goddess." The word was bitter, but I followed. Maybe I was the crazy one, thinking we could change.
We moved through the temple, the star trailing Citra like a shadow. The place was a labyrinth, roots breaking stone, corridors twisting. We passed a chamber with artifacts.
Golden idols, daggers, orbs glowing faintly. Citra grabbed one, and the star's light flared, like it knew the thing.
"Think these tie to your friend?" I asked, pocketing one. These could be useful, tools for whatever this world was. A new life needed weapons and gold, right?
"Maybe," she said. "Tools for those portals." Her voice was all business, like she was planning her next ritual. Fuck, Citra, let it go.
We hit a room with murals, vivid and strange: portals, creatures warping through, forms twisting. The star floated to one, its eyes glowing, like it was home.
"Looks like it knows this shit," I said. This place, these portals…
They could be our ticket out, our chance to start clean. But would she take it, or just build another altar?
"Maybe it's from one of those worlds," Citra said, thoughtful but still distant, like a leader, not my sister.
I stopped, the weight of it all hitting me. "You ever regret it?" My voice was low, raw. "The drugs, the killing, us fucking each other… apart?"
She paused, the star hovering close. "Sometimes. But we did it to survive." Her voice was steady, but it was her old line, the Rakyat excuse.
"Survive?" I laughed, bitter. "We made monsters, Citra. You, me, Jason. Look at us." I wanted her to see it, to admit we could be different. This temple, this world, it was a blank slate.
Her eyes met mine, fierce. "We can be more here. A new start." For a second, I believed her, felt hope.
But then she straightened, that goddess posture, and it crashed. She was still Citra, still chasing power, not family.
I shook my head, turning away. "Let's just find the exit." Hope was stupid, but it lingered, nagging me to try.
We kept moving, the star's light guiding us. After hours, a glow appeared at the end of a corridor, brighter than the temple's dim beams.
A hum filled the air, like the star's song, but deeper. "That's it," Citra said, her pace quickening, all business.
I followed with my pulse racing. We reached a massive door, carved with stars and portals, light pouring through the cracks.
"Ready?" I asked, my voice tight. This was it, our shot at something new. But would she let go of the past?