[CONTENT WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTION OF SEVERE SUICIDAL IDEATION AND A SUICIDE ATTEMPT]
I'm learning to walk again.
Ace used a blowtorch she brought from the Station to weld a scrap leg point on to replace my broken one. Though she no longer has her scrap leg points from her initial runtime, all three of us got a small kick at the fact we've now come full circle. The pain in my back was excruciating, but Scribe figured out a way to bypass the pain signals in my neurological core, so I hardly feel it anymore.
The factory is a hazardous place to be stumbling around three-quarters blind, but I'm getting used to the way Lesion guides me along. Between his help and my limited ability to see shapes and shadows, I'm at least able to keep from walking into walls and objects. It's the little shit on the floor that keeps tripping me up, but every time I stumble, he's there for me to latch onto and right myself. Three points of contact. I need to keep my hand on his side or his shoulder.
It was easy to miss it until we started interacting with the world more, but Lesion is absolutely fucking huge. His spine is level with my shoulders and he's about four meters long from tip to tail, or three meters from nose to rump. His head is twice the size of mine.
With this beast at my side, I have never felt more safe outside.
"Looking good, you two," Ace says as we complete another practice lap around the factory floor. "How's that leg point feel? Bit more sturdy, right?"
"It works," I huff, out of breath from the exertion. I've atrophied some, and this exercise isn't easy. It's exhausting and embarrassing. "I don't know about this, Ace. I'm not ready."
She pats my head. I needed that. "You're working so hard, Witch. I'm impressed. Razor is too. But it's been a week. We think it's time to get moving again. Trench awaits. You're in stable enough condition, you and Lesion are harmonizing more every day, and we have to keep moving. Besides, we've looted this place floor to ceiling too. No more loot means no more fun."
"I can't quite disagree with any of that…"
A quick whistle flits down from above. Razor announces her return before dropping without a sound from the rafters. I made her start doing that because it nearly put me in cardiac arrest every time she suddenly appeared. And Lesion did not like me being startled at all.
"Good news," she says as she approaches. "Spider tracks. To the West, heading north."
Ace turns to me. "Nevermind about Trench."
I sigh. "Fine. That's… worth seeing through. Or should I say following through? I can't see anything through…"
"We're going to kill that fucking thing," Ace growls as she walks away, going back to our makeshift basement camp to gather everything together. "Scope on Rosie's zeroed in, she's all polished and pretty, I tuned up her EMF potency, twenty shots in the pocket…"
Her voice pitters out of my hearing as she goes off to my left. I'm getting more used to that too. Only my right ear is functioning.
Razor hovers in place. "You're not ready to fight."
I lean back against Lesion's shoulder, sturdy as any wall. "Believe me, I'm aware."
"But," she adds, and I can't see it but I know she's giving me her customary evaluative stare. "When have you ever been? Obviously you have to come with us, but I won't ask you to do anything."
"She can't kill the thing alone."
"I don't plan to let her try."
"Well… Neither do I."
"Then that's your decision. Just make sure you don't put yourself in a position you can't get yourself out of. A fight like this won't leave any room for mistakes, or for… rescues."
It's harsh but it's true. I know better by now than to take it personally. "My priority will be my own wellbeing. You don't have to worry about me."
"I believe it. You've come a long way, Witch. I'm proud of you."
"Mm… Thanks… I guess I have. Hadn't noticed. I don't even have Fearless active right now or anything."
"You've been through hardship. Sometimes, bravery comes as a result." She lays a hand on Lesion's snout. "And you, Lesion. Keep her safe. We're counting on you."
I know he will. I trust Lesion with my life at this point.
Ace cinches up our backpack as she passes us toward the door, chambering the modified, cleaned up, polished rivet sniper she's been engineering in her downtime. I can hear it. "Are Tune and Taser on their way?"
Scribe answers in all our heads, "Yep. They'll catch up soon with the resupply."
"Then let's hunt us a spider."
Thankfully, my brainstem port wasn't damaged beyond an easy repair, because now all three of us have wireless connections to Scribe. Razor lingers by me for another few seconds before following. I pat Lesion's side and ask him to keep me close to them. He starts moving at my pace to direct me onward, staying right beside me.
Outside, the sheer brightness of the overcast snowfields burns in my damaged optics. I find myself frantically trying to see something, anything. There is no discernable change to the snowy environment, just one flat featureless white abyss cracked down the middle like a broken glass pane over a landscape print of flat white.
I haven't set foot outside before. This is–It's too much. It's overwhelming. I can't see anything. It's all white. Everything. It burns. My eye stings from the cold and the wind and the sharp light but I can't let it fall shut either because then I'll see nothing. Panicked, I cannot prevent myself from trying as hard as I can to see, while knowing well that nothing I do will help. Panic starts to rise and I begin to hyperventilate, slowing to a stop as I wheeze with terror.
Razor takes my hand. "Easy, Witch. It's okay."
"It–It–It hurts. It hurts."
"I'm sure it does. We'll find a solution soon. Until then, just hang in there."
"I'm sorry. I'm slowing us down. I'm hindering you by having to–"
"Stop. Stop. You're only hurting yourself with talk like that. Slow your processors and just focus on your breathing. One point in front of the other, right? I'm not letting go of your hand, okay? Lesion is right here too."
Slow down. Right, of course. Slow down. I try to take another step but trip over some ice and fall to my knees. She doesn't let me lament, dragging me back upright.
"You stumbled. That's all. Keep going."
Keep going. I tell myself to keep going.
This is infuriating. This is humiliating. Shameful. I'm so embarrassed. I'm horrified. I need pity but if someone gives it to me I will kill them for it. I want them to stop and comfort me but if they do I will snap. It can't be real, can it? This can't really be happening. Even if it is, it can't be permanent. Nothing is. So how could this be?
"Razor? Ace? I need to–Hang on."
They stop on a dime without a complaint. Ace's slender bulk comes closest, arms reaching. "What is it, Witch? What's up?"
I step back, away from the comfort. I don't deserve it. I hate the thought of it. Damn it, I need her to try again. I want to bite her hand off if she does. I just want her to hold me. I want to set myself on fire.
"What's happening, Witch? Do you need a break? We can–"
"I wish I was dead," I admit, choking on the words. When they come out, it feels like being freed, so I say it again. "I wish I was dead." Even better. Again. "I wish that blast killed me. I wish… I wish I had died."
Neither of them say anything. Lesion's head nudges my hand.
I don't withdraw it, nor do I retreat. "I want to die now. I think I should have died, and even though I didn't, I still think I should. Now. I think I should die. Right now."
"Don't say that," Ace pleads, staying put. "Come on, Witch. We have a directive–"
"Fuck the directive. Fuck McElroy. Fuck this place. Life here was short as it was cruel, and there's no coming back from this. Not for me. You know me. You know I'm a coward. You know I'm weak, and feeble, and–and–and fucking frail. I'm–I'm not suddenly tougher because of this experience or anything, not really. In some ways, I am, sure. But no, I feel weaker than ever. I'm more afraid than ever before, because now I have memories to be afraid of, and I can't even see what's right in front of me. You two have told me that–that you're proud of me and it's amazing I'm still going, still pushing, but I just keep wondering what other choice I have. What other choice do I have? I have one. I still have one choice."
"Help us understand how you got to this," Razor says, hand resting on her sword hilt like usual. I can see that much. "Ten minutes ago you were eager to back us up against the spider, and now you're declaring your arguments for suicide?"
"I hadn't gone outside before ten minutes ago. I thought I could do it, do this, all of it, but that was ten minutes ago. I can't. Look at me. Look at me. I can't."
Ace responds, "Yes you can, Witch, we all know it–"
"Stop it!" I cry out, stamping a leg point into the snow. Lesion shifts at my side, spine bristling. "Stop telling me I can do it! You're wrong! You don't have a fucking clue what this is like! I can't do it! I can't do anything! So quit trying to drag my corpse along and just leave me behind to die already! Or put a bullet through me yourselves and save me the fucking trouble!"
Razor takes the handgun off Ace's hip and tosses it into the snow between us. Not a word is spoken. All I see is the vague black shape in the snow, but I know exactly what it is.
I drop to my knees and feel my way to it, my only good hand raw and freezing as it digs through the sharp ice and biting frost. The pistol is little more than a shape on the snow in front of me, a shape in my hand that I can only barely discern. I have to move my hand all over it to confirm that it's the genuine article. Razor's original nine millimeter, the one she modded and then let Ace use once she later found Pathos.
It's heavy. It's cold. Will it hurt? Do I care? I've hurt plenty already. What's a little more? The two of them stand before me, maybe a meter off. Heaving for air in my panicked state, I strain hard to sharpen my vision just to see their faces again. Because I love them. I love them. I wish to know what expressions they're wearing. Razor is probably vacant and impossible to read. Ace is most likely trying to hide her horror.
I press the gun to the side of my head.
The wind is blowing. It bites my skin.
The cold hurts. Everything fucking hurts.
My finger is on the trigger.
I want to. I want to. I want to.
"Do it. Do it. Just fucking do it."
My finger is not moving on the trigger. Frozen.
I jam my eye shut and seethe through clenched teeth.
The cold air moves freely through the hole in my cheek.
The bitter winter courses through my molars.
Not a word. Not a sound. Just the Cipher-3 wind.
"Do it. Do it. Just fucking… do it…"
Death is terrifying. It's what I want. I'm in so much pain.
It's unbearable. I cannot go on like this. I can't live like this.
I can't live like this. So why… Why can't I do it?
A scream rises from my lungs as I push against fear.
I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to kill myself.
"Do it!" I shriek at myself. "Do it! Please! Just fucking... kill me..."
My finger will not move. I'm afraid. I'm so fucking scared.
I can't do it. I can't… I can't do it. What is wrong with me?
Sighing a shaky breath, I let the gun fall to my side.
"Oh thank Turing," Ace exhales, coming closer.
My eye burns. I start to cry. I weep like a child.
"Will… you do it? Ace? Please? I'm… I'm really scared… to do it myself…"
She takes a knee beside me. "No fucking way, Witch. Sorry."
Razor remains standing, though she bends at the hip to wrench the gun from my hand.
"Wait," I weakly protest, words sluggish on my lips. "Wait, wait, wait. Was… Was it even chambered?"
Razor pulls the slide and a cartridge pops out. I see the brass color.
"Damn it. I really am… pathetic…"
"In some ways, sure," she says, handing the gun and the cartridge to Ace. "Not this one. Stand up, Witch. You're not dying today. Nor are you ever dying on your knees."
"O–Okay… I need… I need help."
Ace offers a hand. Reluctantly, I accept it. I'm suddenly off my leg points and in the air, deposited on Lesion's back. Ace makes sure I'm not about to fall off and says, "There. Much better. Don't needlessly strain yourself. Solutions abound."
"Don't toss our daughter around like that. Her back is broken. You could have hurt her."
"Whoops."
Clinging to my newest friend, keeping my aching back straight, I find him surprisingly sturdy. Despite the potential of utilizing Lesion as a means of transportation, I've never actually gone through with it. "It… It works. I can be okay with this."
"Fuck yeah. You look really threatening up there, jawbones. Alright, time to kill a spider. Can we go now?"
I nod to the two amorphous shapes, muttering for Lesion to follow. He's careful, and I can feel him adjusting his own balance to compensate for mine. I can't help thinking to myself that for how vicious Lesion might appear, he's surprisingly a big softie.
To me, at least. I pity anyone who gets on his bad side.
Ace leads the way up ahead according to Razor's directions, the latter keeping an even distance between her and me. I can tell they're both continuously checking on me over their shoulders even if I can't see it. Adjusting my sling, I sit my weight back on Lesion and hang my head, trying to ignore the dulled pain in my back.
I'm embarrassed. It's humiliating.
A suicide attempt? Really? And I fucked it up.
I can't believe I was just seconds from shooting myself. I can't believe that I couldn't do it either. For all my supposed growth, I still need Fearless. Although I don't have it active right now. I guess that's huge progress in itself, but if we got attacked, I'd be running for it as best I could. Now that I think about it…
I prime the CyanTech and cast it, finding myself wondering. If I had Fearless active a moment ago, would I have pulled that trigger?
Ping! Message received.
RESTRICTED> STAY FOCUSED. STAY ALIVE.
"Well, hello!" Ace laughs.
Level six. Another TFC upgrade. I glance past that at the next one–another firmware upgrade to improve my Technomancy capabilities too. I now have a third L3 Charge, six Amps instead of four, I can integrate two new Technomancies of my choosing, and I get a further boost to my color tuning as a Chroma Specialist, making my GreenTech even stronger.
As Ace just said. Hello there.
Maybe life is worth living after all.
My choices for integration are simple: Prism Bolts and Prism Spray. I really like the ChromaTech series. They're insanely versatile. Ejecting both Cylinders from my right forearm into my lap, I call out, "Ace, can you bring me those Tech Cylinders we found earlier in the factory?"
She comes over and trades me, cubing up the old ones to go into storage and slipping me the others. "Double Time, and Latency Spike, all yours."
They synchronize without issue, their future utility already playing at my imagination. "Thanks. What did you get?"
"The usual TFC bump and some enhanced aiming telemetry. Nothing too crazy."
Razor comes over. "Mine wasn't all that impressive either, except I got another tracking module, for whatever reason. It will help with locating our target. And eventually, I'm hoping, whatever killed me."
I tell them my upgrades, concluding with, "Maybe I was too quick to decide on suicide…"
Ace laughs, "A core system upgrade is all it takes and you're back in the game?"
"Um… Yes? And?"
Razor takes it more seriously. "You're emotional, Witch, because you're grieving the loss of your previously more able body. There's nothing wrong with that. Of course you'd be all over the place. It's okay. We love you."
"Yeah, we love you, kiddo. Not to mention you've kind of been the ferals' punching bag lately…"
"That's true as well. Point is, there is no wrong way to feel about it. I'm just glad you didn't pull that trigger, Witch."
"Likewise."
"I'm not sure that I am. Not yet. But… Thanks, you two. Let's… keep going. I want to kill this spider that hurt Ace."
"My kill," she reminds us, then moves on to take the lead like usual.
Razor lingers but doesn't say anything, then turns to follow.
I place my hand on Lesion's back between his shoulder blades and mumble, "Follow, please."
Feeling a touch better equipped, a lot less stable emotionally, and no less dead inside, I let my eye fall shut and hang my head to rest as best I can while we travel on.
Suicide and heartache. Grief and failure. A commitment, a friendship, a promise, people to take care of, and targets to kill. There's so much that goes through my head in fragments. Too much to grab hold of any single piece of the furious storm of ice and hail.
At the moment, letting myself think is tantamount to putting that gun to my head again. So I don't let myself think. Instead, I go into partial standby, only my gyroscopic equilibrium and faintest of sensory inputs active as I keep myself upright on Lesion's back while he walks.
All of us venture deeper into the crater basin's unknown.
That damn spider won't know what hit it.