Brent Stinebaker
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30-4 Half-Chained Love (III)
🕑 Added 2024-10-15 11:37:54 +0000 UTCWell, if that’s the deal I got, that’s the deal I got, right, Veylis?
I kill other me. I get my consangs back? I get the rotlick back? My life gets better, and I get to fuck and snort and be Steelhard?
Yeah. Yeah, alright. I’ll play grav-ball. I’ll play.
Yeah. I know I’m the alternate. I know I’m time-made. But fuck. Whose to say what’s real? It’s all an illusion. Whoever wins decides what’s real. Whoever wins gets to give us whatever life they decide.
My choices are pretty limited if that’s the case.
Never much did like myself anyway. So. This shouldn’t be that hard. Just gotta channel the old man is all.
-Aedon Chambers, Fuckbringer (Anathema)
30-4
Half-Chained Love (III)
“Wait, what? Both of them? With Shotin? The Planefucker?” Chambers looked on at Marlowe with wide eyes and disbelief. He could understand the words, but they were making any sense to him. She just kept nodding.
“Yep. Both of them. At the same time. The half-strand would sneak out from one room and then go straight to the next. I caught his ass that one Salvation Day—I tell you, I fucking screamed! I thought we were being raided or something. My family—we’re arms dealers, right? And I just went for the nearest piece I had on me and the next thing I know mom and dad were beating-feet out of both their bedrooms, both naked! And then I get tackled at the same time while Shotin’s just standing there frozen—”
“Jaus,” Chambers gasped. “What the fuck.”
“Yeah. I know! Anyway, me, mom, and dad go tumbling down the stairs and he ends up catching us using his plane and keeping us from getting hurt. By this point, my younger brother is out too, half-asleep and trying to figure out what’s going on. Mom and dad are already screaming at each other, reflexive blaming already kicking off. And then there was me. Sixteen and stupid as shit. But still not stupid enough to miss all the obvious signs. And the fact that Shotin’s cock was hanging out from his unzipped trousers.”
“I—uh… Jaus.”
“Yeah. Anyway, that piece of shit—that motherfucker—he looks at me, shrugs, and then interrupts my parents, and I shit you not, he says: ‘Listen… I know your policy on threesomes, but…’”
Utter disbelief gripped Chambers. She was bullshitting him. There was no world where Shotin could break into a house, cheat on both the husband and the wife, and then go this far. This was a drama vic—the kind of shit you would only see in the media. “No. Stop. Come on, Marlowe. It’s not an episode.”
“I’m not bullshitting you! It’s just… it’s so stupid, but it happened. Shit like this happens all the time. The Tiers are a fucking carnival of goofy horseshit, but all the clowns are self-important cunts who keep getting to ruin other people’s lives. It would be funny if it wasn’t so goddamn miserable.”
Marlowe sighed and leaned back against the bar. She looked up at the strobing lights dancing down from the ceiling, the flashing bright splashing against her augmented skin and bathing her in a glossy sheen. There was something pensive about her expression. Amused, disgusted, offended, and nostalgic all at the same time.
“This why you hate Guilders?” Chambers asked. “The other ones, I mean.”
“What?” No. This is just the best part of being a Color. Just… stupid bullshit that belongs in the tabloids. But it's part of your life. Even if it fucks you up. Never a dull day. Not even a dull minute.”
“Then, what did it for you?”
Marlowe wiggled her nose and looked down at her empty cup. “Well. I was around twenty. Even dumber than when I was sixteen. Thought I was going to change the Tiers with my ‘hard-hitting exposes’ and ‘show the other Colors’ the truths that were being hidden. Believe you me, Aedon: I was an arrogant and silly shit. Still am in some ways.”
“You always wanted to be a media?”
“Yeah. Well, not a media. A real investigator. Impartial. Honest. The kind of person in those old “we are one” ads back when Jaus was still around. I even thought about being a diplomat. Submitting an application to be a Voidwatch liaison and ending the war. All that hope. All those dreams.” She flicked her cup, and the emptiness rang. “Anyway. I ended up coming down to the Warrens to report on exploitation and unlawful coercion of human sacrifices. There was a Syndicate tied to Ori-Thaum at the time. Real fucked up outfit. Targeted Kosgans specifically. Tehy were just operating in open daylight and no one was doing anything about them.”
Chambers shifted uncomfortably as he took another measured sip of his own drink. He’d gone far slower than Marlowe did when it came to the booze. “So, uh. How’d that turn out?”
“Well, I kept trying to get Ori-Thaum to do something. But after they blew me off for the four thousandth time that year I decided to get hands on and do some ‘accidental leaks’ to generate some outrage. I knew the outfit I was working with at the time wouldn’t take kindly to that, so I decided to go hands-on, you know. Moonlight.”
“Alone?” Chambers blinked. Oh, no. He thought she was being self-hating when she said she was dumb. But she might actually be right. “Into the Warrens?”
“Yeah. And all the way down into the gutters.”
Young Marlowe wasn’t just stupid, she was a practicing suicidal maniac. “I—what—how are you still alive?”
She giggled and her voice sounded like jingling bells. “Beats me. Favor and the decency of others, I guess. I had some graft-work done so I could end up looking like a refugee and just started wandering.”
It kept getting worse. Chambers was enraptured and horrified in equal measure.
“And then I finally got what I wanted,” she said, nodding to herself grimly. “Got grabbed. But, uh, wasn’t like in the mainstream vics. Didn’t expect the enforcers to hit me with a goddamn lightning gun.”
“Oh, yeah, the Popper,” Chambers muttered under his breath.
Marlowe paused. “The what?”
“It’s called a Popper. It’s a Guttergrade tech—shit most cobbled together from downed aeros and other parts left strewn about after a war. It’s a pretty easy thing to make. You just need a battery, some magnetic panels and some other shit you can get out of wrecks. They don’t jump far, but twenty meters is still something. Usually’s used to keep slaves in line. Spark one and save the battery for the others, is the way it went.”
A silence followed. Marlowe was staring blankly at him. Chambers suddenly realized his past life was leaking over without him noticing. Fuck. Uh-oh. “Uh, yeah. Anyway. Shit gets nasty and rough and shit in the Warrens. Shitty. Real fucking nasty.”
“Why’s it called a Popper?” Marlowe asked.
“Oh,” Chambers said, wincing slightly. “Because it had a tendency to surge-jump which fucks with the voltage and a bit stronger of a shock would rush out. When that happens, the settings go from ‘flat’ to ‘Scaarthian’ or more and well, eyeballs down handle all that energy very well, so—”
“Holy shit that’s dark,” Marlowe said, snorting under her breath.
“You gotta find joy in the little things, right?” Chambers replied, taking another drink. Thinking back on all the times he used the damn Popper, screams passed over the currents of Chambers’ mind. Men, women, children of all clades. People who had it coming. Most who didn’t. How many people had he shocked? He remembered him and couple other juvs using it to jolt a “musical” out of their new captures as a gang. Slaves they were going to trade to Syndis for imps.
What happened to those people? Were they still around? Did any of them ever make it out? He’d gone years without thinking about them—just how life went when you lived in a beast like New Vultun. But now they were back. Back to haunt him. Bad old days. Bad for him. Bad for everyone.
“So,” Chambers said, encouraging Marlowe to continue. “You got caught.”
“Right,” she picked up where she left off. “Got caught. Woke up in a phase-cage to someone sawing my neck open and implanting a collar in me. Started screaming and saying I was a Citizen. Showed them my EGO-ID. They didn’t believe me, but they sure shocked the shit out of me. Let it current run until I was sobbing, pissing, and begging for death. After that, they finished cutting into me and finished the graft job. Anyway. Since I was classified as ‘unique product’ due to my pristine state of health, I was going to be the start of a special sensory vic.”
“Fuck,” Chambers groaned. “Sorry.”
Marlowe angled her head as if in casual resignation. “Never really got that far. They got two sessions out of me. First two were ‘destruction pieces.’ People really like pain this city. And so they got some pain out of me. It was bad. Had those memories removed. But when it came time for the third session, someone shot up the place I was held and pulled me out of my pen. Squire by the name of Vendrick Masuri.”
“Happy circumstance or hired by your family?” Chambers asked.
“Younger brother,” Marlowe confirmed. “Wasn’t speaking to mom and dad by this point. They didn’t know. And I’d rather die than let them. Anyway. He comes in with his big guns, shiny augs, and fast aero, and I do the whole cry in the back and imprint on my savior thing. Messy kid shit. But you can guess what happened after that. I was the naive, hopeful, and aesthetic Guilder trying to do right. He was that hard-bitten, brooding but ultimately noble Squire that survived the nightmares of the undercity trying to do something about it. Also an idiot. Also a juv. And like a couple of idiot juvs, we thought it was love.”
“Didn’t work out?” Chambers asked.
Marlowe rolled her eyes and sighed. “Ended up going together like a knife in the asshole. Sure, we fit pretty good when we forced it, but we also hurt each other like hell all the time.”
“Fucking… hell of a metaphor.”
“Years of practice. Anyway. We went on and off. More shit happened. Spent more time in the Warrens. The idiot girl I was got worn down day after day as I learned more about Syndicate ties to Guilds, and he got greedier and less heroic. Then, one day, he took a job from the wrong Color, ended up getting burned, well, long story short, I got to experience his death first hand in a shared hot-sim while trying to charm some deets out of a new source.”
“Godsdamn. Fuck. Sorry, Marlowe. I—uh—”
“I had those memories removed too,” Marlowe said. “Mender said I was a mess. Cycling through it over and over. Got obsessive over who killed him after. Real obsessive. I mean, I didn’t even love the half-strand by this point, but still. He was mine. My hate-fuck. My shitty-ex. And so I went into a spiral. And that’s how I ended up getting it in with Tavers. Killing a Color came with too much heat for most Squires. But you don’t get to be the best in the city without a bit more bite. So she did. I cleaned my memories. And so did she. So the Color died an accident and Vendrick a casualty. But hey, the scales balanced themselves in me. And that’s what I cared about in the end. Me, me, me, same selfish piece of shit Color like the others.”
The air grew colder. The beats got louder. The bombs going off in the distance flared brighter. And the silence between the two stretched out. Marlowe motioned to the bartender, asking for another drink. Chambers finished his and glared down into the empty cup, mind blank but feeling some kind of way for one.
Jealousy. Bitterness. Some kind of way.
“He’s a lucky piece of shit,” Chambers finally said.
Marlowe froze and twisted her body so she could half-face Chambers. “What?”
“Vendrick. Loverboy. He was lucky.”
For the first time, Marlowe didn’t just shrug his words off. Her face went blank of expression, and the first hint of genuine anger arrived behind her eyes. “Listen… I might not remember exactly how he died, but I still got the feeling inside me, and—”
“And I’m sure it was nightmarish shit. Yeah, yeah.” Chamber chuckled under his breath. “That just makes him one of us. Gutter rats. Subjects. Sacrifices. Wastefolk. Maw-food. All those titles and more. I’m sure he crossed over into the Big Nothing howling and crying for his momma, but that’s the score for us. We know. We knew. Since the day we were born. Didn’t ask for this, just like you, but we knew the score. And we lived regardless.”
“So… what the fuck are you trying to tell me, that he had it coming?” Her words came a bit faster, and so did her breath. She was building to rage. Same way his father did when Chambers broke something.
“Be careful,” Fucktopia chided. “She’s got her wounds too. And I don’t think she’ll like my hugs as much as you do.”
“No?” Chambers said, heeding the Fucktopia’s words while shaking his head. “There’s no ‘has it coming.’ There’s just what happens, who did it, when, and all the other stuff. That fate shit? Deserve? Right? Justice? Those are stories for your people. Not mine. But still, It's either play or die, right? So he played. Until he couldn’t anymore. And that the way of things. Well. How they used to be.” A slow breath escaped Chambers. “But his end? That wasn’t special. His life was. He had someone to care about him.”
“I told you, it wasn’t love—”
“Fuck love.” The words left Chambers with a bit more force and bitterness than he expected. When he slammed his drink down on the table, the bottom of the glass shattered and bounced off his enhanced skin. He shot the barkeep a quick look. “I’ll pay for that.”
The Sang just continued her routine, bobbing her head to the music. “Sure. Whatever. Don’t know what’s coming tomorrow anyway.”
Man. You could get away with all kinds of shit at the end of the world.
“Fuck love,” Chambers repeated, looking Marlowe dead in her eyes. She wasn’t blinking anymore. Or angry. Now, she was the listener, and he was the storyteller. “Listen… everyone loves. It’s the cheapest thing in this city. There’s no kind of love you can feel that stronger than what a Joyfiend got for their needle. No kind of love stronger than a senso-doser for all the fucked up vics they’ll never got to dive again in the Deep Nether. It’s a feeling. It’s a vibe. And it’s worth less than what you gave him.”
“And what’s that?” Marlowe said quietly. “Heartbeart? Screaming matches? A couple of good Nether-fucks? Some tips for his next job? A new aug for his namesday on my credit? New guns?”
“You gave a shit,” Chambers explained. “You were there when he needed you. You got hurt when he died. Fuck, you actually went above and beyond—you had Quail Fucking Tavers do a revenge run on his behalf. A revenge run. Wild shit.”
“That’s nothing—”
Chambers practically snarled. This stupid cunt wasn’t getting it. “It’s fucking everything! The Scaarthian behind him flinched away, sobering at his rageful outburst and muttering something about how men were children always no matter the clade. “Listen, Marlowe. My ma loved me. I’m sure of that. I can remember that. So did grandpa, grandma from both sides of the family. He leaned close to her as their new drinks came in. Before Marlowe could react, he snatched both glasses up and threw them back at the same time. He used the Bioigniter to burn the joy out of his system before it could twist his mind. “It meant shit for fuck. Their love didn’t stop my life from being shit. Their love didn’t do anything when daddy-o stuck his gun under my armpit. Mom’s love wasn’t enough to stop her ass from running.”
“Oh, shit,” Marlowe flinched. “Sorry—”
“Fuck it. I get it. Hope she had a good life. Is having. I don’t know—I don’t care. Or I do, but I don’t want to know. But the main point is that it didn’t matter. Because I didn’t matter. Not me. Not my half-strand dad. None of us. We were all here alone with each other despite all the fucking going around. But not your ex. No, he was someone because of you.”
“Because he fucked a Color?” Marlowe whispered.
“Because you cared to give his story an end! You think I would’ve gotten an end if Avo didn’t just bounce into my lap? If I wasn’t just lucky. Fuck, I’m typical. I’m basic. I’m a deltaware arm transplant on the warehouse shelf. Every fucking kid in the Warrens got some of me in them, and the other way around too. But before I got taken by the ghoul, this was it. I was going to feel good. I was going to love plenty. Love my Dannis vics. Love my drugs. Love making imps. Love, love, love. And then, I was going to die. And there would be nothing after that. I would actually get to be alone in the dark forever. And that was it. No story. Just a loose assortment of shit.”
He held out a hand, and it alternated between a fist and palm. He didn’t know what he was going to say next, but there was a fire in his gut, and it had to come out. “I would have loved to be unloved by someone like you. And that’s why… that’s why Avo he…” A laugh escaped Chambers. Just slipped out. “He treated me like shit, at the start. Worse than a mutt. I was just supposed to a puppet he was going to hack through. And that was fine. I mean, it wasn’t, but fuck, that’s the way of things, right? Use, get used. But then… then I did get used. And he didn’t just throw me away. He kept me alive. He didn’t love me. He barely tolerated me. But he cared. For whatever fucked up ghoul reason he cared.”
And the words found Chambers in the end. “And… that’s what made me a person. When who I was affected someone else that they decided I was worth keeping from death.”
The beats continued hammering above, and Chambers’ heart beat in rhythm to the noise. Only then did he catch himself at the end of his outburst, and a faint blush crept over his face. Fuck, was he drunk? Why did he say so much? How did he let himself get into that rant. Rubbing his face, Chambers shook his head. “I’m… sorry, I don’t know where that came from. Just… guess I’ve got that post-jack-off brain fog.”
Slowly, something almost like a smirk pulled at the corners of Marlowe’s lips. “I think that happens before, not after.”
“Really. Fuck. Not for me, I guess. I might just be special.”
“Yeah. You might just be—”
“Chambers.” Cas voice boomed from behind.
“Jaus! Fuck!” Chambers flinched forward.
Marlowe threw her head back and snickered. “Same response.”
He almost glared at her, but chose to face Cas instead. “Cas. Hey. Consang. How’s the… how’s the scouting…”
“Kinda shit,” Cas grunted. He waved at the bartender. “Skuldswill. Undiluted.” A series of mutters sounded around them. Some of the Scaarthians started taking bets on how soon it would take Cas’ to die. “I managed to pull some intel through the soundwaves: got a limited window. They have a cadre coming in soon. Dowager with them. There is a team of Agnosi on-site observing the outbreak, and they’re talking about extraction and storage.”
“Shit,” Chambers said. “How soon?”
“Don’t know. But if we’re going to do something, we might want to do it soon or kill this run. This thing’s done in a hurry. I don’t like it, but if we lose this fragment—”
“Fuck that. It’s ours. Avo needs it. We’re taking it. I got a way in.”
Cas’s drink arrived, sliding on the table. It went right past him as he arched his brows at Chambers. “You do?”
“What? Why do you look surprised?” Chambers said, offended.
Someone else down along the bartop snatched Cas’ drink, sniffed it, gagged, threw up between their legs, and then drank it anyway. This was where New Vultun was at, apparently.
“Chambers, listen, consang,” the faither said, looking awkward. He eyed Marlowe and took a step closer. “You’ve been… improving a lot, and I know that you’re willing to do some twisted shit no one else is for the cause but… you weren’t exactly the professional type before, you know.”
“I…” Chambers grunted. “Yeah, but… people change and shit.”
“Yeah. I know, and that’s great. I just kind of figured you’d use the time to…” He switched to a thoughtcast. +Try and “get to know” Marlowe.+
As the ghosts snaked the thought through Chambers’ Meta, he went still and—well, yeah, that kinda happened, but he was actually being super professional before that. “Well. I—listen, we have a way in through the bioforms. They rotate, and I think I can meld us into one of the little ones so we can smuggle ourselves using the bigger ones.”
“Sounds disgusting and miserable. I’m in. Tell me more.”
But before Chambers did, he sent a thoughtcast. +Wait, you expected I’d just be flirting with Marlowe and you just… accepted it?+
Cas paused. +Yeah.+
+But… why?+
+Chambers… the fucking world is ending. And you two seemed like you needed a moment. Thought it might be good for your heart.+
Then nothing. Nothing but a weight in Chambers’ chest and a strange set of emotions, rushing across his face.
“Boys?” Marlowe said, leaning in next to them. “What are you whispering about?”
Chambers coughed. “Just… some mem-data about the run. Trading what we know.” He stared on at Cas. +Hey, Cas.+
+What?+
+Thanks for caring.+
+Don’t mention it. Now, fucking ruin my day by telling me how we’re going to get our flesh fused with some Sang-made freak of nature.+
Comments
Dar-Angol
The beautiful reality you've woven wouldn't be the same without chambers, the cheap nobody everyone thought would be snuffed in no time... 😘
Deathly_God
You know, my music shuffled "Ceiling Won't Break" by Finish Ticket. Perfect vibe for Chambers outburst, would highly recommend
Jack Smith
Le beeeutiful
