Kevin the Bored
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105 Interlude: Lucy Darwick 2 Electric Boogaloo
🕑 Added 2023-07-02 16:47:31 +0000 UTCColumbus, Georgia. April 8th, 12:02.
Standing before the pile of Broken and mangled flesh and metal, the street around me reduced to a fine dust, I still only feel empty.
Giving the corpse one last disinterested glance, I turn around to walk back to my apartment, thoughts slowly swirling about dully in my head.
My power changed when-
My power has changed.
I vaguely understand why, but I shove that thought away to focus on the present.
Like the corpse of Mannequin behind me. That means that the others will probably come at some point too.
In the back of my mind, I know that I should be sticking with the Heroes, that they would help me.
...But I just don't care anymore.
𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.~
I pause in my stride as that woman's words come back to me, not that they have left me alone since she said them.
Because she's right.
They're all gone, and it's all my fault.
𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳.~
The me of before would probably have scoffed at such a claim, but I cannot do the same.
Because after I told them that I quit, the Director tried to get me to stay.
"We need all the Heroes we can get right now, I know you are hurting right now, but so are so many others! But you can help them," he would say.
But why should I care?
I don't know these people. Who are they compared to who I've already lost?
Then he had the sheer fucking 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘭 to use their names against me. To speak about them as if he knows anything!
I start breathing heavily and pick up the pace to reach my apartment, needing to be there now.
𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮.~
My fists clench themselves as her words refuse to leave me alone and I briefly lose my hold on my power, causing a ring of destruction to manifest around me, every single thing within a five metre radius being simultaneously Broken.
But I see my apartment just up ahead and break out into a desperate sprint.
I jump through the shattered front windows and rush up the damaged stairs until I get to my room and burst inside, not having bothered with locking it, with hardly anyone being stupid enough to rob people while the Nine are in town.
𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶?~
The memory of her words hits me like a train and I hastily rush to the bathroom, throwing my shoulder bag of food on the couch as I run past.
My arms are frantic and jittery as I reach over the cluttered kitchen counter, causing me to knock a bunch of shit on the flaw by the time I reach what I was looking for.
Desperation driving me, I don't hesitate a single moment as I bring the knife forward and dig it deep into my unblemished arm, only stopping once I hit bone.
Haaaaaaah.
I let out a long, drawn out sigh as my body slumps forward, my tension draining away once I feel the pain start to burn, the physical momentarily overshadowing the emotional.
But it's never that easy.
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?~
The knife leaves my body with a shudder and I swiftly drive it back in, making an entirely new hole, just as deep.
Another groan leaves me and I lean forward until my sweat ridden forehead is resting on my sinks mirror as her words refuse to leave me alone.
𝘐𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦.~
I raise the knife and drive it back down once again, my legs starting to feal weak as my body shudders even harder from the growing pain.
𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨.~
Tears start gathering in my eyes as I continue to flood the sink with blood.
𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦.~
My teeth clench as rage briefly takes to the forefront of my mind, and I feel my next stab fracture my ulna, bringing me to my knees from the pain.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.~
Now below the sink, I don't stop stabbing myself, ignoring my blood as it splatters all over the floor, counter and my clothes. Rage and sorrow warring in my mind.
Sorrow for what I have lost, and rage for the part I played in it.
If only I'd have ignored orders. Ignored morals and my job.
If I'd have just killed those 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, then at least He would still be alive.
If I'd just done that, then I wouldn't be alone.
𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰, 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦.~
Yes.
Fuck them.
Fuck bureaucracy. Fuck the PRT and fuck being a Hero.
Fuck being 'Carrot'. It was a stupid name anyway.
Fuck all of that.
I will start over. Born anew.
Only this time, I will be free.
I will do whatever I want, and for anyone who tries to get in my way? Who tries to 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 me, to 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 my life?
Rising from the ground, my left arm hanging limp at my side, steadily dripping blood, and my breaths heavy and haggard, I look myself in the mirror, with determination blazing in my eyes.
𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.
Later, after putting the food I got, all non salted, in an ice box, I decide to go to sleep early, not bothering with cleaning up any of the blood, only wrapping some bandages around my arm as a temporary solution.
It's not like this will kill me after all.
The next day, after sleeping in, I decide to go for a walk in the hopes of clearing my head, as well as perhaps encountering another of the Nine.
They are already coming for me after all, so it's better to meet them in the street than my apartment.
I've been thinking about it, and maybe joining them won't be so bad.
It's not like I've got anything else.
No friends, no family, no prospects.
I'm not going to be a Hero ever again. I 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦 to.
But I know from my parahuman studies class, as well as experience, that we parahumans are unable to go without using our powers, so I can't just like, get a normal job.
I'm still not really comfortable with all the killing and torturing they do, but one thing that cannot be denied, no matter how you think about them, is that the Slaughterhouse Nine?
They are 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦.
Nobody can tell them what to do. They just do what they want, whenever they want, and I 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.
All I have to do is pass five more stupid tests, or just kill the test giver like I did with Mannequin.
Considering who they are, killing them will probably make the living ones actually like me.
And who knows? Maybe I'll be able to influence them into being less murderous.
I might not want to be a Hero, but I also don't want to be a mass murderer either.
A couple of hours wandering about later, and a sudden voice from my side grabs my attention as I walk through empty streets, the city looking more and more like a warzone with every passing day.
"Oi. You Carrot?" The voice comes from an alley to my right and I stop my walk to face them.
The owner of the voice is an ugly man, who looks as if he has been mauled by a bear multiple times, his face and bald head completely covered in scars. His body is well built, clearly showing plenty of strength, but it's the hatchet in his hand that gives his identity away the most.
I can understand at least why he would feel the need to ask who I am at least.
After all, I didn't technically own my Hero costume, not that I'd want to wear it anyway, so I'm just wearing a pair of black cargo pants, a simple black long sleeved shirt with a tan cargo jacket over the top and a dark brown, hooded poncho over that.
I also have a bandana wrapped around my neck, either to hide my face if I feel the need, but mainly for the same reason I have the poncho.
If Shatterbird does her thing again, I can Break and and all the glass she sends at me, but there would still be the dust left over so I have the poncho and bandana to cover up should the need arise.
No one likes getting their clothes filled with dust.
"Don't call me that," is my bland reply as I squarely face Hatchet Face, "that isn't me anymore. Just call me Lucy."
He snorts at my words, but I just continue to stare at him blankly, with eyes that I know for a fact no longer hold any light to them. Sometimes I struggle to even recognise myself in the mirror.
As he gets closer, I prepare myself, waiting for him to get in the range of my power so I can reduce him to a pile of Broken parts.
I remain still as he moves closer. Closer.
Just a little bit closer.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.
With a flex of will, I release my hold on my power, allowing it to run rampant, just the same as it always does when I do not hold it back.
But nothing happens.
Well, I guess that answers that then. It seems that his range is greater than mine.
I let out a short sigh at the thought, and he stops walking with a truly horrendous grin on his face.
"Saw what you did to Mannequin, nice work by the way, but it seems that my range is better than yours, eh? Still though, you killed that cyborg wannabe and that's got you in my good books as far as I'm concerned, so I'll keep my test simple."
Huh, I guess I was right about killing them being the way to gain favour, but I didn't think that would kick in so quickly.
Or maybe he just didn't like Mannequin. I know he hates Brutes, but maybe he just hates parahumans in general?
I don't know.
I don't really care either.
I can't use my power against him, so there's really nothing to be done. Best to just go along with it, pass the stupid test and get one more step closer to freedom.
Without saying a word, I just raise a brow and keep staring blankly at him, causing him to click his tongue.
"Aight, just hold out an arm and don't flinch," he impatiently taps his foot as I roll back my left sleeve, showing my bare, unblemished arm.
Then I simply hold it out to my side, never once breaking eye contact.
He raises his namesake, and swings it down in a brutal arc that ploughs through my arm, not by a sharp edge, but purely due to raw, animalistic brute force.
A sickening crunch sounds out as my arm is disconnected in the middle of the bicep, and I feel my body shudder and my knees grow weak at the pain, yet my face doesn't so much as twitch as I continue to stare unflinchingly into his eyes.
"Hn. You're hardly any less boring than ol' knife hands. At least your better to look at," he finishes with an incredibly crude grin and I have to fight to keep my expression impassive in the face of his suggesting words.
After a moment of staring at each other in almost silence, the only sound being that of my blood steadily dripping out of my stump of an arm, he eventually clicks his tongue again and turns around without a word.
I wait without moving for a minute until I am sure he is gone. Only then do I allow myself to relax, a sigh leaving my body as my shoulder slump.
A small smile graces my face, if only for a brief moment.
Well, that was easy.
Only four to go now.
Reaching down with my remaining arm, I raise the cut of limb back to it's stump, making sure that it is aligned roughly how it should be.
Then, I let go of my hold over my power once again.
The world around me Breaks. Concrete and tarmac turning to a fine powder. A chunk is cut cleanly out of a nearby building's wall that I was standing a little too close to.
But that is not all. As everything around me Breaks, I become whole instead.
My arm rapidly fixes itself, reconnecting the limb and closing the wound, leaving my arm undamaged, only the blood on the arm itself remaining, which I quickly take out a cloth to wipe clean, dropping my sleeve back down afterwards.
Checking my watch, I see that it is a little past midday and decide to keep walking for a bit longer. Maybe look for some place to sit and relax.
Maybe someone is still working a food stall or something around here somewhere. I could go for a good burger right now.
=================
A/N: He~llo! Dear readers!
So! Lucy is now well and truly broken, no pun intended, and what's this? She can heal now!? I wonder how that happened?
And she seems to think she can influence the Nine to be less murderous... oh you poor girl, we all know it's the opposite that's going to happen. They just have to ween her into killing people and she'll be prime Nine material.
Comments
Lucy Edwards
XD same. I accidentally just threw a bunch of things I like in a character onto her all at once
Scarletmenace
Ooo I like her~
