UnfathomablyCute
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Chapter Forty-Four: It's okay, you can look like a daft clown if you want.
🕑 Added 2023-09-29 17:00:44 +0000 UTCI look over at the side of Revisions face, his entire focus locked onto the task of driving. I know he can’t hear anything from my conversation with Roosevelt, as it’s constrained entirely within my own mind, but my anxiety wants me to obsessively check regardless.
“Sorry, I got a little distracted. You said that you had to help defend the city from some kind of psychic assault?” I ask, repeating the last thing I remember him saying to let him know I’m at least trying to keep up.
“Well, sort of. I wasn’t as much part of the defense as I was scouting out the perpetrators of the attacks. Defending from mental assault is not my strong suit, and why I am particularly glad you’re shoring up that weakness early.” An unrestrained surge of sadness roils through our connection, alarming me. “It is also why I could not better fight off Silo’s corruption.”
I immediately move to comfort him, but he gently hushes me with a psychic nudge.
“Apologies, I am letting my exhaustion get the better of me. May I continue my explanation? I will restrain myself, this time.”
I hate his phrasing, but I can tell how tired he is and how little he wants to discuss how he’s feeling. “We’re gonna talk about it later, but yes, please.”
I relax my head against the car's window as I feel his resigned acceptance drift my way.
“The sum of things is this. The attack yesterday was intended to exhaust us, and is a common tactic used by the horde of Nyarlathotep. They plan to pester us with widespread psychic attacks until we have no choice but to entertain them outside of our city.”
This is a common thing? I guess I might not have known since I wasn’t a Vanguard, but this seems like something kind of hard to hide. “It being now kind of sucks though, with everything else that’s happened recently.”
“That’s exactly why it’s happening now. We can normally rebuff their attacks with minor difficulty, but with so many of our strongest injured from the other faction's attacks, they have a perfect opportunity.”
“Isn’t that really bad? Shouldn’t I be sticking around if that’s the case?” I say, sitting back up in my seat and drawing a glance from Revision.
“Thankfully, no. As abrasive as she can be, Vanguard Eclipse personally makes up the offensive power of half of the city’s Vanguard combined. She’s agreed to stick around either until the problem is dealt with, or she’s called back to New R’lyeh.”
Cars around us pull over or slow down to take pictures of Ophelia, which is kind of ridiculous. It’s not a cryptid; I’m positive they’ve seen it on the road before.
“Doesn’t that mean everything is handled? You had me all nervous that something went horribly wrong yesterday.”
His pause returns the uneasiness I was feeling, amplifying it even worse than before. “Not everything is handled.” I get a sense that he’s pacing in my head as he speaks. “Eclipse was originally supposed to go with you, serving as the protection to your navigation. Now, though, you’ll be going without Vanguard support. Command has also deemed the recovery of Silo’s corpse to be the mission's goal. Naomi’s rescue is no longer a priority.”
A flash of rage erupts within me, sizzling in the back of my throat. The only reason I agreed to this mission was to rescue Naomi, and I’ll be damned if I let some sod I’ve never even met change things up now.
“I wasn’t aware I’d have help to begin with, so this doesn’t change a lot for me, to be honest. What is a big deal, though, is that someone thinks the reason I’m going out there isn’t to save Naomi. I’d very much like to steal Silo’s body back, but you and I both know what I’d do if I had to choose between them.”
“Right, well, I agree. Just try not to say that bit too loud. The only reason Miss Catherine got the go-ahead for the mission was because it’s not officially a rescue mission. I’m glad to hear this news hasn’t shaken you too much, though. I was worried It’d cause you undue stress before your public debut as a Vanguard.”
I laugh out loud a bit; the sound obviously tinged with nervousness. “I wouldn’t worry about stressing me out; I’ve done job enough of that for both of us.”
“That’s unfortunate, considering that we’ve just arrived.”
My gaze slides along the wheels of a solid metal gate, watching as they smoothly slide along their tracks to allow our hearse access to the inside of the building. I’d never even seen the back side of the celebration center, so actively going inside of it feels unreal.
I swallow the growing pool of saliva in my mouth. “Any chance I’ve got an understudy to do this instead of me?”
“I could probably do a passing job.”
——————————————————————————————————————————
The facsimile of a mirror before me shifts and shudders; it’s reflective surface rippling every time my mind interfaces with it. Right now, it’s showing my back, but every time I send a thought, the reflection twitches to show the part of myself I’m thinking of.
I tell it to show the back of my head again, marveling over the beautiful coral-themed ornaments the makeup team attached to my hair. I like to think I’m not particularly vain, but I can tell just how bad of an idea owning one of these personally would be. It’s weirdly addictive.
Roosevelt's form slides into frame as he floats to where the mirror's point of view is directed, twirling two of his tentacles to look like a handlebar moustache. A snort escapes my nose before I can stop myself, and I quickly check to make sure I didn’t mess anything up during the motion.
“I don’t think you need to worry overmuch about messing up your decorations. Not only will you be in your ascendant form for most of the display, I’ve never seen Mrs. Sandez design something that casual movement could dislodge," he says, his voice sounding marginally better than before.
I take a deep breath, grounding myself as best I can. Everything is coming to a point now, and I’m smack dab in the middle of it. “That’s good. I’m good. One less thing to worry about.”
A knock sounds from behind me, and I flick the mirror's view back to its normal state, giving me a view of Catherine and Duff leaning against the open doorframe. “Ye look good, lass. A bit twitchy, but good none tha’ less.”
Catherine nods, agreeing with him before speaking herself: “The crowds are still filing in, so you’ve got some time to compose yourself. Any last-minute requests?”
I hurry through my thoughts, trying to find anything that would make this terrifying concept more manageable. “I’d totally be down for someone pulling the fire alarm and postponing this event indefinitely.”
My joke lands somewhat flatly as the two of them look at each other before looking back at me, sarcastic amusement on their faces.
"Unfortunately, I’ll have to decline that request. With all of our recent disasters, introducing you as a new Vanguard is the only feasible way to achieve both the power spike you’ll need for your mission, and restore any faith the people have lost in the interim.” Catherine states, reiterating the same information I’ve heard several times now.
“Yeah, I get it. I’m just being dramatic.” Both my emotional and literal masks start to droop a bit, so I take a moment to fix them as I walk towards the door.
Duff claps my shoulder hard enough that it would hurt a normal person, but I barely feel the sensation at all. When did I stop considering myself a normal person?
“We’re old dogs to aet now, but we all had’ta stand in front of ah’ city full of folk for the first time ourselves. Hell, I still feel like sum kinda daft clown when aye’m hoppin around in front of tha’ civies.” He says, immediately interrupted by Catherine.
“Oh, I was under the impression you were unaware.”
Duff moves to swat at her for the comment, but she avoids it with the barest effort. “Buggar off, ya old witch.” he says, turning back to me as he continues, “What ahm gettin’ at is this: The folks out there won’t see you tha way you see yourself, so just get out there and enjoy yourself. Tha’ obsessive bastards will love it.”
——————————————————————————————————————————
Heart racing like a jackhammer in my chest, I look to the member of the stage crew to my left, her full black outfit reminiscent of a less ornate version of mine. She doesn’t speak, but her two thumbs up get the message across well enough.
Through a speaker somewhere on the stage, a woman's voice—one I don’t recognize—begins to speak. Her words cut through the slow, almost eerie music easily.
“Lovely members of our audience, the time you’ve all been waiting for is nigh.” A deafening cheer erupts from the audience, and she waits for them to quiet to continue. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. A mysterious figure seen speaking with our beloved Vanguards. A grainy video of a hooded person leaping straight into the sea."
My face flushes hot as she mentions my impromptu dive, but I still move forward into the thick fog, knowing it’s my cue.
“And if the rumors didn’t convince you, surely the trailers did. Vicious and fast, they strike like a hidden oceanic predator, ensnaring their prey.”
I allow my tendrils to wander, lengthening and undulating near the outside edges of the fog, but never leaving it. My mind focuses, playing out each step of my plan as I step forward, splitting the fog as I move. Shadows of various sea creatures course through the cloud, their forms moving realistically.
“But there’s one thing I bet none of you know.”
The shadows swim towards each other, collecting into the word as she says it.
“Her name.”
“Amalgam.”
I leap into the air with all the strength my legs can give me, triggering my ascendant form as I break through the top of the fog. My tendrils trail behind me, serving as a bizarre, story-tall cape.
Threads of pitch black string wrap around my torso, molding together into the slick-looking form my outfit always takes. Dots of bioluminescence pop up along it’s length like thousands of blue-green stars.
The wind rushing past my face is as deafening as the crowd below me, and I take a moment to look at them all as I begin my descent. They’re like a singular organism, shifting and shouting, no one part of it recognizable from the rest. I move my tentacles towards them, letting the thin appendages slowly fall towards them and disintegrate as I fall.
My limbs become wrapped in the black thread, and I brace my legs for the quickly approaching ground. My feet connect to the stage, rocking the ground and silencing the people of Barbeau as I land into a crouch.
As I stand, I allow the rest of my transformation to happen: my leg grows its chitinous armor, my dress pops up, it’s jellyfish bell fluff now visible, and as my arm flourishes past my face, my mask and beret appear upon my head.
My arms spread into a ‘Y’ shape as I look, once again, at this singular organism of a crowd. Silent shock is all I can see, and a fear born from that shared hospital room’s cot grows within me.
They’re terrified, aren’t they? I’m nothing like any of the other Vanguards at all.
My posture shrinks, and my thoughts begin to spiral. My eyes search for even one familiar face in this massive creature in front of me.
Clap.
My eyes shoot to the sound, locking eyes with a familiar woman in the front row. My mother.
Clap.
She, as well as several people around her, start to clap as well, and I feel the panicked emotions in my chest begin to unknot themselves.
ClapClapClapClapClapClap
The sound spreads like dominoes knocking into each other in all directions, like the sounds of heavy rain hitting the ground. A smile reaches my face, and I stand up straight again, bowing to the crowd as they cheer.
The speaker from earlier walks towards me, microphone in hand, and for the first time since I signed that contract, I feel like I have control.
Comments
Cheers to that, I'm writing instead of speaking for a reason.
Kaywye
I'm glad she got it together just in time. Public speaking is no joke, I couldn't have done it. Lol
