ravnicrasol
patreon
Gamma Protocol (093)
🕑 Added 2025-08-10 23:15:52 +0000 UTC[093]
I was trapped somewhere between a dream and a nightmare.
At one level, I clearly grasped the grim reality of my task. I faced a monster powerful enough to obliterate a city without effort, fully aware that the slightest miscalculation meant complete destruction. My sole desperate strategy lay in drawing it ever higher into the sky, as high as I could go.
Yet on every other level, I wandered within a shifting realm both intimately familiar and unsettlingly alien. An endless orange jungle sprawled beneath emerald skies dotted by floating mountains and crisscrossed by rivers flowing with impossible shades of violet. Each step revealed terrain exactly as I remembered, yet subtly twisted into new and strange patterns. It was as if I'd returned to a home painstakingly rebuilt by someone who only half-remembered its original layout, recognizable but deeply wrong.
Reality itself felt splintered, stitched together hastily from mismatched fragments. Familiar landmarks I remembered yet shouldn’t have drifted unpredictably, trees melting into sand dunes, sand dunes dissolving into the rush of cool violet waters, the currents tugging insistently at me, drawing me downward.
Time moved weirdly in this semi-dream, seconds turning to hours turning to months yet, not a blink having transpired outside. It flowed erratically, every lapse in focus shifted my surroundings again, propelling me forward without the sensation of movement, from lush foliage to burning deserts beneath three moons and a red sun.
Until I was plunged into the depth.
I was dragged onward, deeper and deeper.
Eventually, the darkness condensed into a cavernous void, the only illumination a massive golden eye that covered the entirety of the horizon, stretching wider than entire cities could span. The unblinking gaze of the creature locked onto me, a tiny, drifting speck before a titan. I urgently tried to pull myself awake, to escape the overwhelming pressure of its attention, but an unseen force anchored me, refusing to release my trapped consciousness even as my physical self continued ascending in reality.
Then it spoke.
̴̨̛͍͇̪̠̟͔̭͉̟̻̱̻̩͚̂̎͗̀͊́́͛̃̿͘ ̷̛̟̘̫̜͉̼̦͐̂̒͗̈́̊̚͜ ̷̛͙̲̔͌̽̀̿̓̌̄͐͊̆̋̃̿̕͝ ̴̜̙͐̐͒̿̊̋̓͌͌̕͜͝ ̵̛̰͙͈͉͌̐̈́̕͝͝ ̸̡̧̨͈̥̝̳͉̖̬̳̯̭͖̠͒̃̑̾̉͌͋̇̄̿̌̋̏̕͜͠ͅ ̶̡̨̳̩̑̓́̏͗̓͊̑̏͂̃̚ ̸̮̤̤̜̞̣̩͐̓̋̀̄͛́̀̎̋͂͐͒͘̕̚͜ ̸̞͕̗̲̼̭̘̈́̅̎̌̊́͐̅́͝͝ ̷͖̟̝͍͇̰͎̠͕̻̩̣̹̄̕ ̷̨̨̻͐̽̈́͒̋͝ ̷̣̭̗̻̝̰͕̥̥̣̗̆̏̈́̃͜ ̵̛̲͖̞̪͓̠̻͉̳́̓́̈́̆̓ ̶̨̡̡̡͍͎͔̞̦͎̱͋̊̈́́̾̃̂͆͌͌̀͒̃̉͌̚͜͝ ̸̡̩̠̫̖̞̬́̄͒̽ ̸̧̢̫̙̹͔̼̫͑̌̋͛̾̈̚ ̶̡̧̭̤͉͎̺̥̫̣̞͉̪̖̬̑̓̏̔̒͘ͅͅ ̵̣͚͙̠̺̪͖̩͓̻̺̱̭̿͜͜ ̴̨̨̥̫̭͎͈͈͍͂͐̐̿̊̀͒̊̈́͘ ̶̟͖͉̼̗͔͉̜͖͚̼̺͒͂ͅ ̴̗̯̲͎͍̟̙͇̺̦͉̹̰̱͕͗͜ͅ ̶̨̛̛͙͙͍̞̤̥̼͉̽̓̇̐͊͑̓͑̽̐̉̇̕͘͘ ̴͕̭̟̥̘̮͑ ̴̡̛̘̰͓͓̓͆̅̑̾͗̀͒̑̓̓̔̄̚͠ ̶̡̨̛̥̺̮̦̗͖͓̼̟̮̻̻̼̀̏̽̑̄̎̉͝͠ ̸̳̳̳͔̝̤̩̲̳͂͜ ̵̲̱̮̥̈́̓̈̍̑͐̒́͝ ̴̘̞̉͆̈́́ ̵̢̧̛͎̹̩̖̲͈̘̳̔̿͗͑̑̋͗̅͐ ̸͖̇̓̐̚ ̵͖͕̰̯͖̤̗͓̜̤̼̤̑̾̂̓̽͆̊͐̚ ̴̢̡̛͓͈̭͈̖̟̰̺͖̓͗͒̐̕̚͜͜ ̴̢͓̠̺̣̠̪̭̩̲̼̈́ ̴̨̛͍͇̪̠̟͔̭͉̟̻̱̻̩͚̂̎͗̀͊́́͛̃̿͘ ̷̛̟̘̫̜͉̼̦͐̂̒͗̈́̊̚͜ ̷̛͙̲̔͌̽̀̿̓̌̄͐͊̆̋̃̿̕͝ ̴̜̙͐̐͒̿̊̋̓͌͌̕͜͝ ̵̛̰͙͈͉͌̐̈́̕͝͝ ̸̡̧̨͈̥̝̳͉̖̬̳̯̭͖̠͒̃̑̾̉͌͋̇̄̿̌̋̏̕͜͠ͅ ̶̡̨̳̩̑̓́̏͗̓͊̑̏͂̃̚ ̸̮̤̤̜̞̣̩͐̓̋̀̄͛́̀̎̋͂͐͒͘̕̚͜ ̸̞͕̗̲̼̭̘̈́̅̎̌̊́͐̅́͝͝ ̷͖̟̝͍͇̰͎̠͕̻̩̣̹̄̕ ̷̨̨̻͐̽̈́͒̋͝ ̷̣̭̗̻̝̰͕̥̥̣̗̆̏̈́̃͜ ̵̛̲͖̞̪͓̠̻͉̳́̓́̈́̆̓ ̶̨̡̡̡͍͎͔̞̦͎̱͋̊̈́́̾̃̂͆͌͌̀͒̃̉͌̚͜͝ ̸̡̩̠̫̖̞̬́̄͒̽ ̸̧̢̫̙̹͔̼̫͑̌̋͛̾̈̚ ̶̡̧̭̤͉͎̺̥̫̣̞͉̪̖̬̑̓̏̔̒͘ͅͅ ̵̣͚͙̠̺̪͖̩͓̻̺̱̭̿͜͜ ̴̨̨̥̫̭͎͈͈͍͂͐̐̿̊̀͒̊̈́͘ ̶̟͖͉̼̗͔͉̜͖͚̼̺͒͂ͅ ̴̗̯̲͎͍̟̙͇̺̦͉̹̰̱͕͗͜ͅ ̶̨̛̛͙͙͍̞̤̥̼͉̽̓̇̐͊͑̓͑̽̐̉̇̕͘͘ ̴͕̭̟̥̘̮͑ ̴̡̛̘̰͓͓̓͆̅̑̾͗̀͒̑̓̓̔̄̚͠ ̶̡̨̛̥̺̮̦̗͖͓̼̟̮̻̻̼̀̏̽̑̄̎̉͝͠ ̸̳̳̳͔̝̤̩̲̳͂͜ ̵̲̱̮̥̈́̓̈̍̑͐̒́͝ ̴̘̞̉͆̈́́ ̵̢̧̛͎̹̩̖̲͈̘̳̔̿͗͑̑̋͗̅͐ ̸͖̇̓̐̚ ̵͖͕̰̯͖̤̗͓̜̤̼̤̑̾̂̓̽͆̊͐̚ ̴̢̡̛͓͈̭͈̖̟̰̺͖̓͗͒̐̕̚͜͜ ̴̢͓̠̺̣̠̪̭̩̲̼̈́ ̵̩̪̪͇͙̥͍͚̭͇̦̩̙̍͊̉͋̏̆͋̅̚ ̶͖̤̌ ̶̹̠́͐̍͑̄͂́͘͝ ̸̨̡͈̲̱̭̦͍̙͈̭̟̰͇̭͕͘ͅ ̸̬̪̪̻̫̼̹͎͈̒ ̷̣̺̫̜͙͈̓̂̑̊̑̊͂͌́̽͑͜ ̸̧̭̥̺̳̭͉̥̻̳͖̻͍̯͙̄́̉̾̓́̈́̿̏͝ͅ ̴̨̧̛͖̫̺̹͈̼̝̘̙͚͚̟̀́͗̋̎̽̔̽͊͘ͅͅͅ ̶̩̮̜̘̥͕͛͆̉̽̀́̇͛̄͑́̅̚ ̷̢̡̤̯̗͎̬̹̰͉̦̺͔̗͐̔̍̑̌̐́̓̀̋͐͌̕̚͜͝͝ ̵̧̢̛͉̺̻͔̝̹̯̲̙̹̖̃̾̄̓̈́̄̃͆̌̿̄̕̚͜ͅ ̵̦͚̮̊̏͗̈́̈́̂͝ ̵̩̪̪͇͙̥͍͚̭͇̦̩̙̍͊̉͋̏̆͋̅̚ ̶͖̤̌ ̶̹̠́͐̍͑̄͂́͘͝ ̸̨̡͈̲̱̭̦͍̙͈̭̟̰͇̭͕͘ͅ ̸̬̪̪̻̫̼̹͎͈̒ ̷̣̺̫̜͙͈̓̂̑̊̑̊͂͌́̽͑͜ ̸̧̭̥̺̳̭͉̥̻̳͖̻͍̯͙̄́̉̾̓́̈́̿̏͝ͅ ̴̨̧̛͖̫̺̹͈̼̝̘̙͚͚̟̀́͗̋̎̽̔̽͊͘ͅͅͅ ̶̩̮̜̘̥͕͛͆̉̽̀́̇͛̄͑́̅̚ ̷̢̡̤̯̗͎̬̹̰͉̦̺͔̗͐̔̍̑̌̐́̓̀̋͐͌̕̚͜͝͝ ̵̧̢̛͉̺̻͔̝̹̯̲̙̹̖̃̾̄̓̈́̄̃͆̌̿̄̕̚͜ͅ ̵̦͚̮̊̏͗̈́̈́̂͝ ̸̧̧̡͍̲͍̦̜͚̰̤́̀̒́̎̉̀̉̇̎͜͠ ̷̨̛̇͆͗̽͂͆͜͝ ̷̫̳͖͓̥͍̝̰̳͈̯͉̆ ̷̨̝͍͓͈̗͕̼́ ̶̨̧̭̯͕͓͙͓̳̗̪͕̯̌̈͝͠ ̸̛̯͖̘̏̒͂̾͂̉̌̿ ̴̫̭͕̫̯͈̗̼͇̹̇̍̊̎̎̑̓͛̃͐̾̐̀ ̸̬̝̞̥͇̤͈̫́̒̊̔̅̑͝ ̸̧̧̭͍̮̝͉̬͍̳͇̥͓̺͛̽͑̊͛́ͅ ̴̧̛̼͍̣͕͉̖ ̸̼͖͔̰̙͆͐̀̀̇̂̉͌̊͑̆͂͂̈́̕͘͠ͅ ̶̢̥̳̗͉̦̲͉͎͓̲͍͂̒̏̄͐̑̈̕͜ͅ ̴̧̛̭͔͚̟̞͇̤̼̼̟̜͕͊̀̍̀̏̈́͗̏̑͘͘͝ ̴̺͇͈͖͖̞̞̥͕̫̬̝͔̣͊̏̍̐̈̀́͘̚͘͘ ̵̝̮̭̯͚̬̹̪͉͈̝̥̹̰̻̠̔́̇̅ ̶̡͔̝̟̠̝͔̝̪̰̹̭̰̤̥̮͊̔́̌̓͒̀́̊͌͒̕͘̕͝ ̶̹̣͔͛̌̒̈͌͝
It was a voice beyond sound, a resonance that never made it to my ears, instead rooting itself deep within my bones, leaving my body as nothing more than a tuning fork threatening to break under the immense pressure. And through that resonance the creature imposed an unyielding intent, a powerful surge of presence that poised itself to snuff me out and imprint on what would be left.
I screamed, a paper-thin sheet of glass against an approaching avalanche.
A blinding flash of green agony surged through me, the world shattered and the dream broke. I tumbled through the air like a rag caught in a hurricane, the blowback of the blast shredding my wings and cracking my armor, sending me plummeting through the open air. Consciousness flickered back and forth, barely able to register the approaching ground before-
THUD
---
THREAT ELIMINATION CONFIRMED
C-CLASS ALARM LIFTEDThe city of New Francisco would like to thank you for your collaboration.
“Quinn, get every drone you can hack or commandeer airborne. I want a full search grid, starting from the base. Ping anything that moves, breathes, or even looks alive. Scream the moment you find Axel.” Vesper’s voice was sharp. “Isia, you’re in charge here. Get everyone out before people start suffocating. Prioritize repairing those vent-units. Secure the bunker with whoever volunteers to stay,” she continued, her tone giving no room for argument. “All others, form search parties in teams of three. Find survivors. Clear rubble. Help anyone you can. Every minute we waste is someone dead, so move fast and spread out!”
Vesper waited at the mouth of one of the service tunnels, knuckles white around the grips of her electro-bike. The engine thrummed quietly beneath her, a constant, tense vibration that pulsed through the soles of her boots. When the all-clear notification her comms flicked to “do-not-disturb,” muting the burst of call-requests (mainly Isia’s).
She already had a solid guess regarding Axel’s location; she'd monitored the feeds closely until they'd flickered into static from the detonation. Even as the cameras glitched and dissolved into static in the wake of the blast, she caught a final glimpse: a solitary figure dropping from the sky before all signals were temporarily cut off.
It had taken every ounce of her neuralink’s processing power to overlay and extrapolate from fragmented visual data onto district maps and pinpoint the precise landing spot. The strain had nearly pushed her system into emergency shutdown, again, but it shaved off precious minutes.
The electro-bike's motor whined as she pushed it as hard as she could without risking a crash, its tires skidding dangerously over the thick carpet of moss, wildflowers, and tangled grasses claiming the abandoned streets. She didn't waste energy scanning for monsters; this close to the blast zone, the mythical “Summer’s Wrath” would deal with that particular problem. Every few blocks, Vesper glimpsed monsters clawing out of sewer grates or from rubble. Yet they would quickly find themselves dead, violently dissolving the instant they brushed against the encroaching greenery.
Around her, survivors staggered from damaged buildings, some frantically gathering bundles of plants and running off with them as fast as they could, ignoring the painful rashes forming across their skin. A few here and there knelt reverently, whispering prayers of gratitude to the elder whose attack had delivered this living miracle.
Vesper had only heard stories of this “Summer’s Wrath” from her grandfather, the old man having talked about it like some mythical legend. According to him, these plants could thrive for weeks, even months if kept clear of monsters. They acted like botanical minefields, irritating to human skin with prolonged exposure but catastrophically lethal to the weaker monsters.
Seeing its effects first hand made it hard not to feel a slight reverence to the substance. She also suspected it wouldn't be long before a black market sprang up, peddling authentic and counterfeit monster-repelling foliage.
But that was a concern for later.
Approaching the coordinates, the car-sized hole that’d been made into one of the factory buildings was all the confirmation she needed to know she was in the right place. Vesper practically tossed the bike, sparing only a thought to have it self-lock and shouldering her assault rifle as she switched her neuralink to combat mode. Immediately the information feed uncluttered, highlighting several dozen neuralink pings within the building.
Vesper clicked the safety off and glued herself to the nearest wall. Her neuralink tagged every door, opening, and empty space for potential threats. The gang leader made a mental note to thank her “it’s complicated girlfriend” for the software as she made her way through the building, avoiding the more risky areas along the way.
Narrow corridors funneled Vesper forward until they opened into a wide, ruined expanse. The factory roof had collapsed years ago, sunlight breaking through in pale, uneven shafts that spotlighted the moss-covered rubble below. Broken girders leaned against torn walls, and everything was covered in a slow, green reclaim. At the center, half-hidden by shadows and a thick carpet of obsidian flowers, was the outline of a humanoid monster. It looked as though it had been buried alive by the blossoms, slumped over on a throne of moss and shattered concrete, its head tilted as if it had just closed its eyes to rest.
Around the sitting figure, people knelt in a loose circle. Their bodies were perfectly still, heads bowed, hands folded as if in prayer or defeat. There was a heavy reverence to the scene, the kind of silence that pressed on the eardrums, muting even the shifting rubble underfoot.
Vesper’s breath hitched as she tried to take it in. Her neuralink flickered with a silent alarm, pinging a firearm as someone had turned to face her and take aim. Instinct took over. Four quick shots punched through the air, dropping the threat before their finger even brushed the trigger.
She swept her aim across the kneeling figures as panic rippled through them, catching on the edge of her voice. “Bring up a weapon and I will shoot.” She didn’t bother to shout; the authority in her tone was enough. “This is Sewer Saint territory and business. Anyone who isn’t part of that, get out. Now.”
She didn’t know what they’d been doing, and there was no time to untangle the mess. Vesper kept her weapon trained on the man she had just flatlined out hadn’t moved, definitely dead, she still kicked the handgun away. It was 3D printed from cheap plastic, but that hardly made it less deadly. Her eyes flickered at the figure she hoped was Axel.
Yet as she moved in, the certainty faded. The closer she got, the more she found herself wishing she was wrong. The creature before her was armored in obsidian spikes, some driven deep, some only scraping at the skin, but all of them jutting out at unnatural angles. The armor looked like it had been fused with bone, with a faceless head broken only by a jagged, twisted mouth. That single feature split the head from chin to brow, as if something had carved it open just to let out a snarl. Its claws were long and curved like sickles, each one bigger than her own forearm, and the tail coiled behind it was wicked, lined with barbed spines from base to tip.
Even so, she felt a twinge of relief and doubt when she saw it breathing. Each inhale and exhale stirred the air, slow and controlled, carrying that foul, thick, almost chemical scent of dying monster. The flowers looked like some kind of unnatural mantle, clinging to him in jagged bunches and glittering under the sunlight.
Staring at him, she finally understood why Axel had hidden this side of himself. Even knowing for certain that Summer’s Wrath wasn’t turning the creature into fizzling goop, even with proof staring her in the face, the sight of that form sent a cold shiver crawling up her spine. "At least he's alive."
“He?” The question came from behind her, sharp and deliberate, punctuated by the unmistakable sound of a safety clicking off. “I won’t tell you to drop the gun, but don’t try anything sudden.”
Vesper shifted her weight, glancing back just enough to spot the speaker. He was perched on the second floor, a lone blonde guy who looked entirely too comfortable up there, watching everything unfold. The fact that her neuralink wasn’t picking up anything from him meant he had his own turned off. He’d been waiting there, clearly for a while now. If he’d wanted to kill her, he would have fired already.
“What do you want?” she asked, voice steady but wary.
He nodded toward the hunk of metal beside him… a railgun, from the size and the faint whine building up as it charged. The muzzle pointed straight at Axel, unwavering.
“You said ‘he’,” he repeated. Blue cybernetic eyes watched her intensely. His finger hovered over the trigger, casual but prepared.
Vesper’s mind raced. She recognized the mismatched gear, the clear preparation to shoot Axel. Definitely a mercenary. Experienced? Definitely knew his positioning. She calculated the angles. She might have a chance to dodge a shot herself, but Axel would never make it. Could she stall for time? Would talking help at all?
“How long have you been there?” she pressed, trying to buy herself a little breathing room.
He didn’t blink. “You said ‘he’,” he repeated again, this time with a note of suspicion.
Vesper caught herself. “It’s not a monster, it’s a ‘he’,” she admitted, though her voice lost a fraction of its confidence. “I can’t tell you more than that.”
“You’d better,” the mercenary replied, and the charge of the railgun rose another notch, the whine building pressure in the room. “Otherwise there’ll be a gaping hole in ‘him’.”
Mercenaries weren’t the type to linger or get tangled in questions. Their work was simple: finish the job, collect the pay, and disappear. The blonde standing across from her looked too young for the sort of gear he was sporting, still a little raw around the edges. The small, involuntary tremor running through his arm told Vesper enough. No cybernetics, not yet. He was new. But then, why the hesitation? He had everything to prove and nothing to lose.
“He saved your life, didn’t he?” Vesper asked, voice quiet but steady.
“You didn’t answer.”
Vesper’s gaze never left his. “I’ve said too much already,” she replied, her tone flat and measured. “Think about it. Someone saves your life, and now a fourth-district gang is following that same someone around. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?” She let her firearm drop, the weapon hanging slack from its strap, and slowly lifted both hands in the open. She turned so he could see she was no threat. “If you pull that trigger now, you’ll be stepping into a mess you can’t begin to imagine.”
For a moment, the blonde’s mask of resolve slipped. He flicked his eyes toward the unconscious body, then back to Vesper, clearly weighing his next move. She pressed the advantage, her voice low and direct. “Your contract was to capture or kill a monster. Take a good look: do you see any monsters here? Could any monster have survived a fall straight into Summer’s Wrath and walked away?”
The only sound between them was the shrill whine of the railgun, its vibration carrying through the wreckage and debris.
The stranger dipped his head, eyes unreadable in the half-light. “You’re right,” he admitted quietly. The railgun wound down with a fading hum. “The monster fell on a pile of Summer’s Wrath. Its body just… dissolved. There weren’t any traces left behind.”
He shifted his grip on the heavy cannon, the effort clumsy and awkward, and with one last glance over his shoulder, turned away. Without another word, he disappeared into the building.
A few dozen meters away in that same direction, a neuralink ping sparked to life, the digital echo receding with each step he took. Only when that faint signature finally faded from Vesper’s senses did she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Gone.”
A shriek ripped out of her the next instant as she flinched away from the pile of wreckage. Instinct had her backpedaling and raising her rifle before her feet had even hit the ground. Her gaze locked onto the obsidian-skinned monster, its head tracking her every move, but its hulking body never rising.
“Axel?” she managed, her voice thin. Her finger hovered against the trigger, breath coming in quick bursts.
“Yessss.” The answer slithered out, his tone guttural and uneven, as if wrestling with every syllable. The way his jaw moved, it was obvious the words came hard. His maw simply wasn’t made for this.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked, wary, not relaxing the aim.
“Gunsssshot.”
So he’d been pretending all along. Vesper’s mind ran back over the encounter, piecing together the way he’d lain still, feigning sleep, even as the railgun locked on him. He must have realized the danger. Vesper grimaced, a tight, unpleasant feeling rising in her chest. If she had known…
“We should have killed him,” she muttered, almost to herself. Keep the secret safe. The fewer loose ends, the better. Who knew if or when the guy chose to talk how far it would go?
“No.” Axel’s reply was immediate. That single word landed heavy, carrying all the weight of a locked vault. It was both reassuring and infuriating. Of course he’d refuse. Of course he’d dig in his heels, stubborn to the end.
Her eyes shifted to where the monster’s head had turned, focused on the lifeless body of the hostile she’d taken out only minutes earlier. Even without a human face, even with those alien features, there was something that shifted. A heaviness. Sadness, maybe, or a regret that went unspoken.
Every part of her training screamed at her to keep her weapon up, to never show her back, but she found herself clicking the safety back on. She lowered the barrel, her heart pounding in her throat.
Yeah, this was their Axel.
“We need to get you back to base before Isia loses her shit.”
He took a moment to respond. “I ahn ssssstuck,” he said.
“Jesus, Axel, you…” Every instinct in her insisted she should not lower the weapon, but she fought it down. “You’re stuck?”
“Can’t sssshange gack.” Another pause.
That was not good. “We can’t have you running around like this. Do you need doctor Moreau, or-?”
“No.” Another harsh response, quickly followed by hesitation. “No,” he repeated more softly, one giant claw reaching to his chest. “Can go gack, jusssst need… to heal. Time. Food.” A rumbling followed. “Hungrrrrry.”
A cold shudder ran down Vesper’s spine, eyes wandering to the fangs upon that gaping mouth, each as long as her fingers and razor sharp.
“Yeah… yeah… we can do that, we can feed an…” She eyed the sitting creature. “Seven meter tall Axel.” She laughed nervously, not wanting to find out what could happen if they didn’t get him as much food as possible.
Fast.
Now she just had to figure out how to sneak him out of there.
---
Though I remembered most of what had happened after my “newest” transformation began, those memories floated in the back of my mind, more like distant echoes than solid recollections. It was similar to waking from a half-remembered dream: I could grasp the outline of events, recall the broad strokes, but the details and nuances slipped away as soon as I tried to focus on them. The experience left me oddly detached, watching myself from somewhere just out of reach.
I couldn’t decide if that was a mercy or a curse. Part of me wanted to forget the things that had run through my head in those moments, there’d been some deeply unpleasant things going on in my head at the time. Things better left unexamined.
Vesper had left not long after making sure I was, if not healthy, at least not in any immediate danger. I wouldn’t call my condition “good,” either by how I looked or how I felt. Still, I could stand, I could move under my own power, and I wasn’t about to collapse. That was something, at least. The ache of hunger had come roaring back, too, but it was a raw, physical thing now, nothing like the soul-tearing emptiness from before. It made every movement feel heavier, each step a little more deliberate.
What unsettled me most was the system’s silence. I could still sense its presence in the background, could even call up my status and read through the same information I’d seen yesterday afternoon, but there was no feedback, no updates, nothing new. No matter how I tried to prompt it, the system seemed to be almost… asleep, like it was gathering itself after too much strain. The sense I got was one of exhaustion, as if it needed time to recharge before it could do anything else.
All I could do was hope that, when it finally woke, it would help me get back to normal too.
The brilliant gang leader swept back into the room, bringing with her what she clearly thought was a masterstroke of a solution. In her hands, a tarp. That was it. Just a battered tarp that had seen better days.
“Listen, everything is in emergency mode right now. I’ve already placed multiple VIP bulk orders for protein, and they should reach the warehouse in half an hour at the latest. Those assholes are charging us a premium for the emergency delivery, because of course they are,” she snapped, her voice full of irritation that barely masked a deeper frustration. “We just need to get you there without attracting the wrong kind of attention. That’s all.”
“Guarrrrehoussse guerrrrre?” I managed to speak, though every syllable scraped my throat and made me hate this strange, lipless mouth all over again.
She looked like she’d just bitten into a lemon. “It’s… about ten minutes on my bike.” Her grimace deepened as she gauged my reaction.
I couldn’t form facial expressions, something about my face being integrated into this obsidian-helmet-mask-thing, but I tried my best to give her a deadpan anyway.
“It’s the best we have right now,” she muttered.
“Go,” I said, as I carefully took the tarp and folded it under my arm, choosing the one spot on my new body that wasn’t edged like a blade. “I golloug.” My voice was thick and slurred, nearly unrecognizable, but she got the message.
Vesper did not look convinced. She shifted uneasily, and before she could voice her doubts, my stomach answered for me with a rumble like boulders crashing down a mountainside. The color in her face faded a little.
“I’ll tell the others you’re safe, but that you needed to be checked by Moreau,” she said quickly, looking for any excuse to avoid lingering in the same space as me.
I wanted to complain, but relented with a nod, it was probably our best option to keep details under wraps and questions unasked.
“Let’s go,” she said, not quite meeting my eyes.
---
The district was nothing but ruins.
The section directly under the green nuke was the worst of it, barely recognizable, with maybe one in every five buildings needing just a little work to become livable again. Everything else sat somewhere between “missing a few parts” and “just a pile of rubble.” But even outside the strike zone, the devastation was no easier to look at. One out of every three buildings had simply vanished, erased with nothing but piles of concrete and bricks left behind. The ones still standing had only survived because someone had thrown up quick reinforcements, and even those showed all the scars of heavy fighting: battered walls, gaping holes, burn marks, and everything pocked by gunfire.
The fighting hadn’t even stopped. Not here.
The farther I got from the green-nuke’s impact, the louder the gunfire grew. Somewhere out there, the battle was still ongoing.
Vesper had peeled out of the contamination zone on her bike, weaving between debris and half-collapsed alleys, and I’d taken to the rooftops in pursuit. It was a miserable way to keep pace, especially with people taking potshots at me from all sides. Not to mention the drones, small and persistent, zipping at my head and forcing me to swat away or duck for cover. It’d been fifteen minutes of this, before Vesper made her move. She “accidentally” tossed an empty satchel off her bike, right as she passed an old warehouse, marking the drop location. Then she sped off deeper into the district as I swerved a different direction.
At least now I knew where I was meant to lay low. The next step was shaking my tail. I spent the next few minutes doubling back and taking corners, hiding from the drones most of all, until I was sure nobody was following, then settled in to wait. The bulk-food delivery was still a few minutes out. I couldn’t just barge into the warehouse, not while Quinn had all those drones flying around, I needed to wait until they moved on to look for me elsewhere.
Watching the Saints scramble to cover each other stirred a reluctant sense of pride in me. But it was also painful to watch them chew through ammunition and drones that could have actually made a difference elsewhere.
I found cover inside a half-collapsed buildings across from the warehouse, using the tarp to better hide myself and lay low. From there, I kept my eyes on the building, waiting for the delivery to show.
But before the truck appeared, something else caught my attention. A sound, barely audible, but enough to set that twisting knot in my chest. I stayed put for a moment, straining my ears and wrestling between the convenience of my hiding place, the promise of food arriving any minute now, and the instinct that told me I needed to check it out.
After a handful of seconds, I let the unease win with a defeated sigh.
---
“You need to see this.”
Vesper’s shoulders tensed immediately. Those words were never good, especially not when tossed into the Saint’s emergency channel. She paused what she was doing, heart rate picking up, and opened the link Quinn had just sent. A new window blinked to life, displaying real-time drone footage of a neighborhood reduced to little more than debris and shattered stone.
Right at the center of the carnage was a shape she recognized instantly. Spiky, black, and all angles, the so-called “monster” clawed relentlessly at the tangled mess of rubble. Concrete and rebar gave way under its hands like they were made of sand, bricks scattering in every direction. The sheer violence of it made her grip the table.
What the hell was he doing?
A minute crawled by. Slowly, the frantic pace of Axel’s movements shifted. His brute force faded, replaced by a strange, almost tender caution that felt at odds with every line of his murderous silhouette. Vesper found herself leaning in closer, watching as the monster that could turn meat to mist moved with an unexpected patience.
Then she saw why. Axel stepped back, claws pausing mid-air. From within the dust-choked cavity of collapsed stone, a small child emerged, crawling on scraped knees. The child was shaking, clothes torn, face smudged with blood and dirt, eyes wide and fixed on the blade-covered titan looming above.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. They stared at each other. Then Axel raised one finger to the line of his maw, an unmistakable shushing gesture. Slowly, with the same care he might use to cradle a dying flame, he nudged the child towards an open box at the edge of the pile of rubble. A box that had the company logo suspiciously torn off.
Vesper nearly groaned, now certain it was from the same supplier she’d put in a bulk order with barely an hour ago.
Once the child had settled, clutching a bottle in trembling hands, Axel went back to digging. Only now he worked slower, aware of the fragile witness at his side. The footage showed the monster moving stone by stone, clearing the way for anyone else trapped below.
The chat, previously clogged with resource requests and cataloguing the dead, blew up, hundreds of comments pouring in every second.
Vesper leaned back, taking a brief moment of contemplation.
Then, she quietly upgraded her health insurance plan to have better aneurism coverage.
Comments
bubba
I wonder how the meguca court is going to react to this bit of news going out. The boy survived a Meguca nuke and had enough energy to assist relief efforts. Just to fuck with Elder Summer he should get a floral wreath around his big noggin with his sush monster trademark as a picture.
Gingiberry
I feel like a broken record but I’m stoked to see how this particular point in axels court shakes out
