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Post by MP on Jul 16, 2023 19:15:48 GMT -6
She stood on her lookout perch, staring out over motionless water. No drakes. No broodmother. Nothing but the slow flush of red spreading over the surface. The woman surveyed the scene another long minute, confirming the absence of wildlife. Then she clambered down, stepping soundlessly through the trampled reeds. Her shadow fell over the boy where he lay, followed by the creep of icy air.
A dark hand gestured the boy to expose his wounded side. Cold eyes appraised the blood flow, the rise and fall of the boy's chest and the set of his leg. It was a wonder the blow hadn't killed him. A wonder he could move at all. But the only sign of it was the appraising flicker of her eyes.
"Breathe in," she ordered, listening to his inhale. And when his breathing held steady: "Show me the wound."
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Post by Sharei on Jul 16, 2023 21:01:10 GMT -6
It was a painful motion to lift his arm and the boy winced when he did it. Deciding that trying to get his shirt and armor off in the middle of the reeds was less than ideal anyway, the spirit boy stood with a terrible limp and made his way to the bank. It was no less wet, but at least the muddy water wasn't getting into the wound. He breathed deep, let it out slowly, and willed the screaming pain to the back of his mind.
Now on dryer land, he sat down on a fallen bit of branch, all of his ribs grinding unpleasantly, and finally removed his chest piece and shirt. Both were ruined beyond recovery and he tossed them aside to be buried.
"I'm - still functional."
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Post by MP on Jul 17, 2023 0:17:16 GMT -6
The woman stared at it. Weeping blood and foul swamp water. Not even the boy could survive another sickness, so soon after the first. She pointed to the swamp's edge.
"Make clean water." Her voice was calm. Stern as she urged him down with the gash uppermost. "Wash the wound."
She had their bandaging with her - all the field supplies they could afford to bring from their meager camp - brought down from the lookout post and kept at the ready. The rags were ancient and threadbare, but she pressed them to the wound and held them there, the decomposition creeping up her fingertips and crawling up her wrists. Perhaps it was only the phantom pain of the hydra's claws, but the press of her fingers were too hard, almost sharp against the skin.
It was only when the bleeding began to slow and the rags were soaked dark that the woman spoke. Her eyes were on the wound. Her fingers shivered a restless pattern as she drew her hands away.
"How far is it to your people?"
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Post by Sharei on Jul 17, 2023 14:35:06 GMT -6
B3 winced, as much from the sharpness of her fingers as from the pain of the wound. Claws? Did ghosts have claws, he thought in between steadying breaths. Actually, how was she touching him? But he was too tired, and too grateful, to care about the semantics.
"It's - about a half mile to extraction," he murmured. "If... there are people still waiting, anyway."
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Post by MP on Jul 17, 2023 17:25:17 GMT -6
She stared at him, then up at the trees, as if she could see a camp from here.
"Which way?" The skepticism was back in her voice.
She knew the terrain. By now, he should know it too. There was no direction where the forest should have ended so soon. Forest, swamp, and the hard foothills of the mountain, rising up. Had he forgotten? Dazed or worse? She looked to him, staring hard at his pupils, at the steadiness of his limbs.
"Can you lead?"
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Post by Sharei on Jul 17, 2023 20:30:50 GMT -6
The spirit boy nodded, trying not to look at the way the woman's eyes regarded him as though he were already dead. As if, as she sometimes did, what he had to say was nothing but nonsense. He tried not to think of that, too, and the way Shaun always looked at him in a similar way.
B3 hauled himself upward with a grunt and turned toward the woods. The bones in his leg shifted, nearly buckling under his own weight, but the boy simply firmed his stance like some kind of machine and plodded along, using the trees as a crutch. The trudge was long, difficult, and riddled with pauses, but between the leg and the ribs it wasn't a journey the boy could complete on his own. Eventually, so close to the finish line that he could almost sense the helicopter to home, B3 collapsed next to a tree. His knees hit the mud, then a shoulder, and no matter how hard he convinced himself he could not rise again.
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Post by MP on Jul 18, 2023 1:01:22 GMT -6
The air hung heavy over the downed genasi, its chill pooling in the fallen leaves. It held the scent of the moldering damp, the decaying, forgotten things of the wood. If he stayed there, refused to rise, he would be one of them.
The woman knew it, had known the state of his leg at a glance. But something kept her back. Fear - of him, perhaps. The uneasy memory of spirit blood staining her hands. Or something else, deep and instinctual, that she couldn't name. She stood over him, waiting for him to stand. When he didn't, she came to a crouch beside him. A beetle pushed out from the undergrowth, its legs clicking softly over the leaf litter.
"You're almost there," she told him.
But encouragement - the first expression of confidence - wasn't enough, no matter how long she waited. No matter how many hydras he'd killed. And he had done it, despite her doubts. The woman looked down at him, lips thinning. Broodmothers dead. Her camp fully stocked. Everything he had promised so far had been done, and he was still living. She had been wrong after all.
Hands slid under the asset's shoulders, his legs. Though the touch was careful, there was a ferocious strength beneath it, nothing human left in it. Withered skin crackled and rasped as the creature lifted the boy to its hollowed chest. Ancient teeth parted in a snarl as the thing shuddered, sunken lids turning down to the burden in its arms.
Make it stop.
A wave of horror, fury, revulsion wracked the emaciated frame. She wanted to tear it apart, strangle it, stop what it was doing to her. A clawed hand shifted toward the genasi's face. Held there, moving in small, convulsive shivers. But beneath it all, something in the mummified face still clung to sanity. Slowly, haltingly, one finger moved to the side of B3's jaw. Nudged his gaze toward the woods. The woman's voice sighed from between withered lips.
W̸h̸e̴r̶e̸?̶̨͆
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Post by Sharei on Jul 18, 2023 15:44:04 GMT -6
Glowing blue eyes stared up at the figure, no longer the ghostly woman with her transparent edges, but a true monstrosity that better resembled a walking corpse. It was like looking at death, and something deep within him shivered involuntarily as the icy wind curled around his naked torso. Her bony fingers dug into the flesh. Even her voice, sullen and reserved before, sounded as though it came from the depths of Hades itself.
And yet... she had picked him up despite it. Was taking him the last of the distance, he realized, as she turned his head toward the woods. Had taken care of him when he'd been sick, offering what meager comforts their camp could provide. It was more than his handler had ever done - more than any handler had done, even Hare, sweet as she was.
"There," he said, indicating the direction with a tilt of his head. Then he turned it into her chest and closed his eyes, allowing for the first time a small moment of selfishness to rest, comforted by the embrace.
They walked for only another ten or fifteen minutes before the sounds of other people started filtering through the woods. One was an unknown female but the other clearly belonged to Shaun Hawkins, B3's handler.
"I'm telling you," Shaun was saying, his gruff voice audible through the trees. "The asset isn't coming back. There's no way it survived out there."
"Only because you sent it out into the woods by itself, and lost all of the damn thing's supplies," the female snapped. "Command is pissed with you, Hawkins. Do you have any idea how much money went into that river?"
"Accidents happen," Shaun grunted. "Happens all the time on the job. Command'll get over it."
"Yeah, sure," the woman replied. "Just like they let you come home when they found out the job wasn't done."
"Job's not getting done," Shaun insisted. "The asset is dead and we're wasting our time here. You agree, don't you? You're a pilot, surely you've got better places to be than here."
"Yeah, but orders are orders. Sano said no one comes back until your monster is confirmed dead or the hydras are."
"Ugh," Shaun hissed. "Goddamn it. Should have pushed the damn thing in the river too."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. I'm going to have a smoke."
"You do that. See if you can find your asset while you're at it."
B3, his eyes open to fine, glowing slits, flicked one pointed ear in the pair's direction. They still couldn't see them, nor did B3 try and look. His expressions were always difficult to read, but there was something unguarded in it now, something that looked faintly like despair in the lines around his eyes.
"... I've - always done everything he's - he's asked, no matter how hard." The boy's lips trembled, but where a normal child might have cried, B3 simply closed his eyes and turned his face tighter into the woman's body. "Why does he still hate me?"
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Post by MP on Jul 18, 2023 16:48:09 GMT -6
The boy's voice fell heavy into the silence. The corpse had stopped at the edge of the woods and would move no further. Its sunken features followed the movements of the man, teeth bared in a permanent sneer. It turned to look down at the boy in its arms. Silent. Staring.
Finally, with a sound like old leather, it knelt. Old bones shifted under parchment-thin skin, no flesh left to hold them. The corpse lowered the boy to the forest floor. Set him down. But it kept a hand on his shoulder. Claws dug hard into his skin, almost painful, to keep him in place.
H̸e̷'s ̴m̸a̸d̷e̶ ̸u̴p̸ ̶h̴i̷s̵ ̶m̸i̴n̸d̵.̷
Even in this state, withered and decayed, there was something in the carriage of the corpse. The straight line of its emaciated shoulders. The proud set of its crooked neck. A reflection of the woman it had been.
H̴e̵ ̵l̴e̸f̷t̴ ̶y̷o̶u̴ ̸t̷o̶ ̶t̷h̴e̵ ̵w̷o̶o̶d̷s̸.̵ ̸Y̵o̶u̶r̶ ̷l̸o̸y̶a̷l̷t̶y̶ ̴m̸e̷a̵n̷s̵ ̷n̴o̴t̵h̷i̷n̸g̶ ̵t̶o̴ ̴h̴i̵m̵.̸ ̴D̶o̷ n̶ot̴ ̵g̷i̴v̴e̸ ̷h̴i̷m̶ ̵t̵h̴e ̷s̷a̵t̸i̴s̵f̶a̸c̶t̸i̴o̸n̴ ̸o̷f̸ ̵w̸a̵i̷t̴i̷n̶g̸ ̸f̴o̷r̶ ̶h̸i̴m̷.̴
With that, the corpse stood. As its hand left the genasi's shoulder, the years faded from its withered skin. The woman glanced down at the boy, oblivious to the change. She raised her chin as if to make up for his crumpled figure.
"Stand proud. Show him no weakness. You don't need his blessing."
One slim hand uncurled. Reached out the boy, offering him a hand up. This time, there was not a trace of the tremor in it.
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Post by Sharei on Jul 18, 2023 17:50:02 GMT -6
The spirit boy stared up at the woman, at the change in her, the proud figure flanked by the long branches of the birch trees. Then he dropped his blue eyes to her outstretched hand.
He wanted to tell her that it wasn't so simple. It wasn't a matter of loyalty, or satisfaction, or anything meaningful like that. It simply was. But there was something in her stare, in the tilt of her chin, that said... maybe it wasn't. Maybe it didn't have to be.
B3's fingertips touched hers so lightly she almost couldn't feel it. There was uncertainty there - a child's nervousness - and his other hand tapped unconsciously against his good leg, but the small palm that slipped tentatively into hers was firmer. The boy nodded and took a slow, steadying breath. The pain was too much to make it very far, but the camp was just there. He could do this - he could. And with that last determined thought B3 let her draw him to his feet - and the first step toward rebellion.
When he entered that camp he did it on his feet. Still a mess of blood and broken bones, but on his feet, and as steady and straight-backed as he could make himself. The extraction camp wasn't much different than the forward camp had been, a huddle of dark military tents against a backdrop of trees. But there were vehicles here - a truck and, behind it all, the helicopter. Shaun was standing by the truck, his hip against the hood and smoking furiously to curb his temper when he saw the asset's return. The human stopped and stared, bewilderment robbing him of his scowl.
"Wh- you- how-" He seemed to remember himself when B3 stopped in front of him, however, and just in time for the pilot to stick her head out of the cockpit.
"Hey, look who- holy shit," she said. "He's all fucked up. Hydras gone, B3?"
B3 nodded.
"Good," the pilot said, hopping out of the helicopter. "Let's pack up and get the hell out of here."
"Yeah," Shaun grunted, dropping a heavy hand on B3's shoulder. He all but shoved the boy toward the vehicles, either oblivious to or not caring about the way B3 winced and stumbled. "Move it."
B3, what small confidence he had rapidly fleeing, cast a nervous look back at the edge of the trees. The ghost woman was there, hesitating on the edge of the camp as if it were a salt line. B3 cast a rapid glance between her and Shaun and, in another moment of weakness, cast her a second look. This one was no less nervous but there was something else in it, something desperate, something that almost resembled pleading in his reserved way.
Shaun, who had never known B3 to be anything but completely obedient, followed the boy's gaze back toward the woods. But whatever it was that B3 saw, Shaun didn't, and the handler simply turned back around with another aggressive shove.
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Post by MP on Jul 18, 2023 18:18:29 GMT -6
It was only when she was there, at the verge of escape, that the woman faltered. She had tried so long to leave the forest - had begun to believe, though she would never admit it, that she could not. Now, here was her chance, and it seemed too good to be true - MUST be too good to be true. It was a trick, a trap, another disappointment. Another betrayal. She looked to the woman, then the man, and finally to the boy, seeking some sign of the truth.
And the boy was looking back. He had promised to bring her with them - he would speak for her here. More than that. The look in his eyes was almost beseeching. If he wanted her here, he would make sure she was welcome.
She took a halting step. Then another. The man looked back at her, impatient, and only continued walking. Not violent. Not predatory. Disinterested. And that, she could deal with.
The woman's steps became surer. She walked past the pilot, who only rubbed her hands together for warmth and let her pass. She came level with the handler, who ignored her. She came level with the boy, who ensured she was tolerated here.
She would need that tolerance. Pack up, they said, and in any other camp, she would have leaped to work at once. You had to prove your worth, earn your keep in a group like this. But the camp was like nothing she had seen before. Strange materials. Strange wagons. And a hut on stilts, petal-like decorations sprouting from its top instead of roofing. She understood none of it, and she cast a wary glance down at the boy, seeking instruction.
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Post by Sharei on Jul 18, 2023 18:32:37 GMT -6
The tension that had begun to build in his chest eased as, finally, she came level with him. B3 almost sighed with relief but Shaun was right there, his hand still on his shoulder, and he dared not. Instead he watched her, gauging the way she looked at the camp. If she was a ghost, when had she died? By the uncertainty looking around, and by the way she had spoken, it must have been a long time ago.
Trying to think through the pain, B3 glanced around, then back to her as they reached the helicopter. Shaun left them there and went to help the pilot, only diverted from demanding B3 help when the pilot snapped at him to hurry up. Now alone, B3 eased himself up into the cabin and waved her to follow.
"This is... stuff from my organization," he said quietly, easing into a space on the floor next to the seats. "Er. Group. It's - it's advanced."
He really hoped he wasn't making a fool of himself.
"This vehicle will fly when we leave, so you'll want to be seated and away from the doors."
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Post by MP on Jul 18, 2023 18:50:58 GMT -6
"Fly?"
Standing at his shoulder, the woman actually leaned away in her skepticism. She stared down at him, brows raised. Don't be ridiculous, she wanted to say. But she honestly wasn't sure he was capable of a lie. Maybe it felt like flying to a boy. She edged further away from the doors to appease him.
"What is bethree?" she asked instead.
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Post by Sharei on Jul 18, 2023 19:02:03 GMT -6
The boy looked at her, taken aback. It was the first time she'd asked that kind of question.
"It's my designation," he said and moved to point to his chest with his good hand, but the logo and number that had been printed on his armor were gone. Instead, he took off his own dog tags where they hung next to the dead asset's and handed them to her. On one side read B3-589-04-CH. On the other, it read Shaun Hawkins.
"We're..." Slaves, he wanted to say, but that wasn't exactly right. But what other word would she understand? "Genasi are born to serve our human handlers. We're - slaves, I guess. Shaun Hawkins owns me and B3 is my name. I am a B-class asset, third born of my batch. The batch number is 589, and our batches have diverged four times. The asset project is called Chained God, so CH. B3-589-04-CH. That's me."
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Post by MP on Jul 18, 2023 19:17:12 GMT -6
The woman returned a flat stare. Even the beetle resting between her fingers waved its antennae in what seemed like an unimpressed manner.
"You're a third-born son," she said finally. "That's not a name."
It was nonsensical - classes and letters and numbers thrown together into a meaningless mush. She would never be able to remember it all. The woman glanced down at the dog tag, expectant, as if it could somehow manifest a proper name to use. She couldn't use B3 to distinguish him from a dozen other other sons or batches or whatever they called it here. She tried again.
"What do you call yourself?"
Seeing the same answer coming, she stopped him with an upheld palm.
"What do I call you?"
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