Chapter Eight
What it was Before
Everett, Seattle
July 12, 2059
4:13 pm
Alona stepped through the church's ancient door again. The creaking wood didn't register as she has pushed this door open dozens of times before. Her mother was suppose to be restoring this old building. Though it was taking longer than Alone expected and she never saw that much work being done here.
Her mother is here, sitting on the front pew. Alona smiled, sitting her books on a nearby bench. She thought she saw someone moving off to her right, but didn't see anyone when she looked.
"Alona?" Her mother called in a surreal voice.
"Yes, mom?"
"Come here, please."
Alona did as her mother said. Her dress shoes making a clicking noise as she walked down the aisle. In the silence of the church her footsteps were echoed off the stone walls. As Alona neared her mother she noticed that she wore a pair of sunglasses. Even though little sunlight found a way inside.
"You wanted to see me, Mom?"
The older woman nodded, brushing her hair away from her elfish ears. She patted a spot on the pew. "Sit down, Alona. I need to talk to you."
Alona shrugged, straightening her skirt before sitting next to her mother. The chill in the air suddenly became apparent. She shivered a little. The musty smell also became more dominate. Alona wrinkled her nose at it.
"This place is old." Alona said idly, trying to make a polite comment instead of complaining.
Her mother smiled. "Yes, it is. It was built in 1903 with the help of Father Conteras and his congregation. It was abandoned in 2013. The Awakening tested some people's faith too much. They lost their motivations and left this place to suffer the torments of time. It's sad because this use to be such a beautiful building." She spoke in a content voice now. Almost like she knew what this place was like first hand. "Now it's neglected and old. No one comes to worship anymore. In fact, the only reason this building hasn't been torn down is because the local civil housing department has a foreman who's superstitious about tearing down religious houses."
Alona didn't say anything, only looking around for a second. The two sat in silence for a moment. "You wanted to see me about something?"
Those words brought the older woman out of her daydream. "Yes, Alona. There is something very important I need you're help with."
"What is it?"
"Do you trust me, Alona?"
She shrugged at that, it's such a simple question. "Sure. Why wouldn't I? You're my mother. Now what do you need my help with."
"Well, it's kind of like a game. I need you to help someone make a decision. It's also time for you to learn the truth about the things I do." Her mother held out her hand. "Here, let me see you're hand."
Alona held her hand out without thinking twice. Almost the instant the two touched Alona felt very tired. She shook her head once, barely noticing the sharp grin on her mother's features. Then she drifted off to sleep.
Alona's mother, Imira, smiled as the silent touch of mana coursed through her daughter. It worked the spell she enchanted efficiently and her daughter did not have a strong enough will to properly resist the mana's call.
A figure melted out of the shadows. The elf stood quietly observing the pair while Imira brushed at Alona's hair in her lap. He didn't say anything for the longest, only observing.
"Is it time?" Barnabas asked.
Imira smiled. "It is close. Alona is here and so is the other. We have to play the game now."
Barnabas bowed his head. "As you say."
"Take my daughter to my private chamber." Imira instructed. "Then set the hired help up with security. I want that ork with the metal arm watching my daughter. Put that overweight boy to guarding the cellar."
"And the other two?"
Imira gave a sarcastic smile. "Oh yes, the flirty one and the boy who likes knives. Let them watch the front."
"As you wish." He said. "Is there anything else?"
"No, we are ready. Let's get started."
10:30 pm
Fear?
What is Fear?
How is it to be defined?
Who is to define it?
The young boy sped down the hall. Fear infused every part of his body. It pushed his heart and legs into motion, carrying his body into overdrive. Each foot hits the floor with a resounding thud. The solid floor only a distant comfort against the terror rising from within. As he runs the walls stretch and distort, changing their shape like a wet oil painting. The sight throw's off the inner ear's attempt at balance, causing him to stumble. Arms flail in a feign attempt at control. Feet work in a blur through the air. Then floor rushes up
And gives way. Falling to the earth. Deeper still. A hole. A pit.
The boy hits the moist mud, splattering dark sludge. There is no pain. Only coldness leeching into his fingers. Vines spring from the impossibly high walls. Hard and rough with thorns.
They wrap around the boy's struggling arms, grasp at his dangling legs, and choke his gasping throat. The boy struggles, but the grip only tightens. It binds him against the black sludge of mud and earth. He screams, but thorns bit into his skin. A call is strangled before it leaves his lungs.
He pulls at the vines, but they only grow stronger. Meaner. They move like they were alive. Then the boy realizes the horrible truth. The vines are alive. Long, twisting bodies with forked tongues and slit eyes. They hiss and bearing sharp fangs, pinpricks of white enamel. Almost dripping with some vile concoction.
They coil around the boy's body. Vision blurs, air goes away, muscles go limp.
The darkness comes.
It's cold in the dark. Empty. Lonely. No one likes the darkness.
The darkness is what is after. What else is here?
Peace? Fear? Hope? None of these. Just darkness.
Is that Light? There is light here. Why is there light? There's not suppose to be light.
The darkness fades. The grasp of the living vines is no longer there. There is a hand reaching down. A hand of hope. Hope? There is hope after all.
There is a way out of the darkness.
Nightsky's eyes snapped open with a jerk. He instantly became aware of the aching pain in his arms and shoulders. It was paralyzing, forcing him to squint at the torment. The fire in his muscles block out his rational mind. If it hadn't, Nightsky would wonder why he snapped wide awake. In all the times that he has been knocked out, from a beating or a taser, he had always drifted back into consciousness.
Forcing his eyes open is like prying a hubcap off with bare fingers. The source of his discomfort is found. Shackles hold his arms uncomfortably high. All of his weight pulling against the chains has left the skin tender. He tried to stand, fighting against the needles in his legs. An attempt to at least support his own weight.
He's in a dark room. Nightsky's vision takes a second to adjust, pulling shapes out of the shadows. Walls are unpainted concrete blocks. Cold and moist to the touch. The floor is also concrete. A stress crack traces its way across the surface.
There is a faint sound echoing over the cold walls. Laughter? No, a mocking giggle.
"Who's there?" Nightsky manages to speak before catching a glimmer of movement.
The giggles continue. Nightsky traces the sound to a corner were the shadows hide the source.
"All tied up now? No more mystery about you. No more secrets you can hide. I know now."
The voice sounds familiar. Nightsky runs through a list of people in his mind, but can't place a face to it.
"It's funny. I always thought you were this big mystery." The person continued, their voice sounding young and soft. Though somewhat mocking. "You never spoke much to most of us. I don't think you really liked us. The others, the senior, members occupied you're time. Jackal and Spark and Mira were the only one's you got close too."
Nightsky tilted his head, recognizing those names. "The Blackhearts. How do you know them? Who are you?" Nightsky pushed the aching in his body aside, trying to focus on the person in the corner. Confusion and fear itched at the back of his mind. The voice was hauntingly familier. "I know you, don't I?"
"You should." The person mocked. "You gave me a place to stay when the Night Hunters were on the prowl. Jackal said that it would be safe there, but it wasn't. The Night Hunters came for us. They came for Floppy and Stumpy. They came for me, but they didn't get me."
Nightsky shivered. "Sand?" He breathed the name with some shock.
The person stepped out of the shadows, revealing the young, youthful features of the young girl. Scars on the side of her head from her encounter with the Night Hunters were hauntingly visible.
"I crawled back to Jackal barely alive. I remember when he called you. You were off doing something special in the shiny parts of the sprawl." Sand stepped closer, her arms crossed. A sneaky smile crossed her features. "You came back days later. You found out that Stumpy and Floppy were dead. I was there. I remember that you did not shed a tear. You didn't know them. Jackal took you back to where he thought I couldn't hear, but I could. I heard what he said to you, how he cut you down about your carelessness and disloyalty to you're gang."
"Sand, I-"
"Then you and Jackal went off. Went off with that smiling man you brought with you." Sand interrupted. "You went off to face the Night Hunters. Big heros going to put an end to it all." The young woman's eyes fell on him. "But you weren't heros. Your actions got five of us killed. Real people that I cared about. You made it out without a scratch."
Nightsky pulled at his restraints, but found them far to strong. "Sand, we put the 'Hunters down."
She didn't reply to that. "You were always a big mystery to me, Nightsky. After that fight you disappeared again. You were always gone. The few times I saw you after that you just dropped by like it was no one's business. You taught some moves to the older gangers, but you ignored the rest of us. Were we not good enough for you?"
"Sand, it's not like that. I don't know what you've got against me, but you don't understand some of the things that I am involved in."
"Oh, I understand now. My eyes have been opened."
Nightsky gave her a confused look.
"I know everything, Nightsky." Sand paced around the small room, just out of Nightsky's limited reach. "You're not a ganger, Nightsky. You were at one time, but you're not anymore. You're a shadowrunner. People pay you to break the law. You work with other shadowrunners doing everything and anything. The smiling man you brought to Redmond was a shadowrunner too."
Nightsky nodded only slightly at that. He didn't know how Sand could figure it out, but she was telling the truth. If it wasn't for the painful buzzing in his head Nightsky would have pondered on it more.
"You've also got magic. You channel it through you're body. You're an adept." Sand's eyes narrowed. "See? I know all the secrets you were keeping from the rest of the Blackhearts."
"I wasn't hiding it. No one ever asked me." Nightsky offered in defense. "But how did you know?"
Sand bent on her knees, placing her finger against his lips. He got a good look at her face for the first time. It was paler than usual. The Blackheart tattoo on her cheek had been burned off. An ugly scar occupied its place. There was a scarf on her neck.
"It's like I said, Nightsky, my eyes were opened." Sand grinned.
He frowned, biting his tongue at the aching in his shoulders. "Who opened them?"
Sand giggled at that. "You'll find out. You see, you're eyes are going to be opened too. That's why I'm here. I'm going to help you open you're eyes.
Nightsky jerked, pulling at his chains. "Sand, this isn't a game. Let me go."
"It's not my game, Nightsky. I didn't start it. I'm a part of it."
Nightsky looked away from her, casting his eyes to the floor. He was still too weak to figure a way out of his bonds. "What part do I play?"
She smiled again, a little more unsettling. "You have to make a choice from what I know." She reached into the inner pocket of her vest, pulling out a syringe.
Nightsky backed away at the sight of the needle.
"What's that?"
Sand caste off the plastic cap, exposing the tip. "I am told this is the first step. For you, anyway."
Without warning she needle into Nightsky's arm and pushed in the drug. Nightsky resisted for a second, but he was too late. At first he didn't feel anything. Then a coldness started in his shoulder. It raced through his body in an instant until he was suddenly freezing.
The darkness came again.
The darkness is endless. All Nightsky see is lonesome emptiness all around.
What's that? There's something with him in the darkness. He is not alone. A thought that brings fear instead of comfort.
It pushes against the wall of his mind, trying to get in. Nightsky can feel the pressure building up behind his eyes. The force keeps growing stronger, it wants in. Nightsky grits his teeth against it, trying to hold the force back. It looks like he succeeds for a moment. In that moment he rests, regaining his strength.
Then the force hits him harder, breaking through his defenses and diving into the depths of his thoughts. He screams, but no one hears his cry. The only thing that could hear him is the darkness.
And the darkness is not going to help.
There is light. Warm and dancing across the dull walls. It takes Nightsky a second to notice that the light is coming from a fire. The fire is burning a few meters away, consuming a what looks like a carefully constructed alter.
Nightsky eyes snap wide open when he realizes that this is a funeral fire. Just like the ones that the Blackhearts use when one of their number dies. He glances to his sides, seeing familiar faces. Jackal is here. So is Mira, Spark, and Stumpy.
............Stumpy's still alive?.........
But there's someone missing. Where is he?
Oh..............
He's on the fire. Oreo, Nightsky best friend, this is his funeral fire. Just after the accident.
"No, this can't be right. This happened almost a year ago." Nightsky backs away, but the others don't seem to notice. They don't seem to notice him at all for that matter.
The fire continued to burn, faster now. It consumed the rest of the body in a matter of minutes. Nightsky kept backing away. The fire got weaker. The light it provided faded. After a few moments it died all together, leaving Nightsky in the darkness again.
"Funny, ain't it?" A voice boomed, startling Nightsky.
Nightsky whirled around to see Oreo standing quietly behind him. The ganger looked just as he remembered him. Spiky hair black hair, lankly figure, the Blackhearts tattoo on his forearm.
"Is- is that you, Oreo?" Nightsky asked.
"Yeah, it's me. I'm surprised though. You were suppose to come with me."
Nightsky tilted his head. He didn't understand what Oreo meant. "What do you mean?"
"Don't you remember? That night I had the accident I asked you to come with me. We were going to go to a party, but you said you has some things to do. That you would catch up later."
Nightksy nodded slightly. "I remember."
"Then I had the accident. I totaled my car." He gave a disturbing grin. "And me along with it. I left this world, but I wasn't suppose to leave alone. You would have been with me. Then I wouldn't have had to face it alone."
Nightsky shook his head. "But I didn't know-"
"Wouldn't it have mattered, Nightsky? If you knew that trip would have been you're last would you have gotten in the car? Would you have tried to stop me? No. You didn't and you wouldn't have. That's just the kind of person you are. Selfish. After I taught you how to stay alive on the street, you let me go into the great beyond by myself. The reason you're still alive in the shadows is because of the skills I taught you. You betrayed me, Nightsky. You left me in the darkness."
"No, I-" Nightsky offered, but could not find anything to say. Nothing seemed to make sense.
"You left me alone. Just like you turned on the rest of the gang. Just like you turned on everyone you ever met. Just like you'll do again."
Nightsky cursed at that. "No, Oreo, I didn't do that!"
But he was gone. Nightsky was left with only the darkness again.
And it had no comfort.
"You're selfishness costed people their lives, Nightsky." A rough voice boomed. It was Jackal. He came out of no where. The ork's expression was one of disgust. His tone was menacing to the point that it could sour milk.
"Jackal? Where-?
"Shaddup, Nightsky." Jackal roared. "You know it's true. You own personal hatred and selfish acts brought about more pain than anything ever could."
Nightsky curled up, putting himself on the defensive. He never was good with words, but that is all he has left. "I don't believe you."
"Oh you don't?" Jackal grinned. "Let me show you."
The darkness engulfed the two of them. Suddenly they were nowhere again.
The sound of running water cuts through the darkness. Light creeps in, but not much. There is a tunnel. As well as a putrid smell of the sewers. Rats as big as dogs scurry around. The dank, moldy air mixes well with the thick sludge underfoot. Nightsky watches own like he's watching a movie. He is only an observer here. Jackal still stands by his side. The ork's cruel eyes are fixed on him.
Five people tromp through the murky water. The move briskly through this underworld. One is an older ork boy of about eighteen. His studded leather vest flashes as a flashlight beam bounces off the studs. There is a compact sub-machine gun in his hands. The back of his left hand is covered by a large black heart. Another ork follows close to his side. She looks a little younger and is a few inches shorter than the boy. Her hair is cut short, barely falling to her chin. A muscled young man walked in front of the two orks. He is nearly as tall as the male ork. The intricate tattoos on his arms make a winding path to his hands where he carries a large revolver.
"I know these people." Nightsky said as he watched the group pass. His words were directed at Jackal, but he did not give any hint of hearing it. "That ork there, that's Grav. I remember him. That's his girlfriend with him, Tandra." Nightsky pointed. "And they guy with the tattoos? That's Spinner."
There were two others with the group. Second from the front was a tall elf with golden colored eyes and sharp hair.
"Spark?" Nightsky mouthed. "I looks the same. Where is this?"
Jackal did not say anything. He only observed silently.
The last person lead the group, driving a path through the sewers. He was young and shorter than Spinner. His eyes were narrowed in an expression of hate and intolerance. There was an Ares Viper in his hand. A crude sword hung from his hip.
Nightsky took one look at the leader and his jaw dropped. It was him! He's younger, and more carefree, but it was himself that he was seeing. "Or when is this?" Nightsky looked around, noticing the opening that the group of people was approaching. "Wait. I know where this is." He glanced back at the group. "NO, Jackal! I don't want to see this! I know what happens!"
"Do you?" Jackal scolded. "Do you remember why you're here?"
"Yeah." Nightsky replied quickly. "Ghoul hunting in the sewers."
"That's right. You wanted to go ghoul hunting. Spinner wanted to go. Grav and Tandra thought it would be fun. You talked Spark into going." Jackal reminded.
Nightsky grew more uneasy as the group approached a drainage system in the sewers, which was basically a large chamber that fed water into a pool that drained off into the river.
"You wanted to hunt some ghouls. To satisfy some belief that they had wrong you. That it was all the Infected's fault. What did you're hatred get you here?"
Nightsky would have turned away, but for some reason he couldn't take his eyes off the scene. It happened just as he remembered it. The five gangers stepped into the chamber. Spinner said something about goo dropping on him.
A sharp scream tore into Nightsky's ears just like he remembered it. Some 'thing' dropped down on top of poor Spinner and yanked him into the air. A flashlight shined on the thing for the briefest of moments. It showed the hard, chitin skin and grotesque eyes of a monster hanging against the wall from four gigantic legs.
The scene progressed in silence. Barrels blazed with muzzle fire. The thing moved again, catching Grav in it's lunge. Blood splattered against the walls, on the water, on the gangers. Spinner's body finally fell, a mutilated form of the person it was.
Grav screamed. It felt so strange to hear the ork scream. It didn't seem real, but it was. His scream was one of true horror and pain. Tandra screamed too as the thing ripped Grav apart.
Nightsky watched himself in third person as the three survivors took off running. They splashed the thick sludge against their feet. Their hearts racing as the thing dropped and followed them. All of them were screaming, running for their lives. The thing got closer. Nightsky saw it move faster than he remembered, tearing down the tunnels at an incredible speed all the time shrieking some horrible cry.
The three survivors found a ladder. They climbed it quickly, Nightsky's younger self in lead with Spark in the middle and Tandra bring up the rear. Nightsky's younger self reached the top and pushed against the manhole cover. It took precious moment for him to push the heavy cover off, straining with all of his strength. Then he was on the street.
Spark came out quickly, gasping for breath as the younger Nightsky collapsed on the pavement, completely spent. Spark turned, reaching for Tandra who was still climbing the ladder. She was so close. Almost there, just another few feet.
Then the thing got her.
The expression on her face was of shock. Her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped open. He hand reached out in one last effort to reach Spark, but it was too late. The thing took her away. For the longest time her screams could be heard from deep below before things settled into down. It was quiet then.
"No! Damnit Jackal I know what happened!" Nightsky screamed, breaking the eerie silence.. "Why did you make me watch this."
Jackal growled. "Because it was you're selfish quest to get even with the ghouls and the rest of the infected that brought this thing down. Don't you see? You're hatred has killed more people than the infected ever could."
"That's for shit! You don't know Jackal!" Nightsky cried. "You don't know what they took from me!"
"Oh and these chummers had to die for what happened to you? You wanted revenge, Nightsky. That's the only reason you went ghoul hunting. It's the only reason you left the gang. It's the only reason you run the shadows." Jackal huffed. "It's the only reason these three are dead."
Nightsky stopped at that, completely at a loss for words. "I-" He started, finding he almost didn't have the strength to go on. "I didn't want it to be that way. They were my friends."
Jackal crossed his arms. "Your friends seem to suffer the most"
Nightsky lowered his head. The darkness came again. Only this time it wasn't sudden. It moved in like a slow breeze to take it all away.
There was something cold in Nightsky's hands. He glanced at the Remington Roomsweeper that had suddenly appeared in his hands. The combat shotgun was a little rough looking with scratches running along its frame and a warped handle.
"Where did this come from?" He asked himself, looking the weapon over.
A faint sound drew Nightsky's attention. It sounded a like footsteps. Then a figure slowly took shape. At first it was just a small, formless shape. Then, slowly, it became more solid. It was just a little kid. A boy probably no more than ten years old. His clothes were ragged. His eyes are blue and bright, despite the grim that covers his face.
The little boy came within two meters of the much taller adept. He stopped there, standing quietly. He was rocking slightly back and forth. As if he was expecting Nightsky to say something, but Nightsky was at a loss for words.
"You don't remember me, do you?" The boy asked.
Nightsky was about to say no. He didn't get the word out. Suddenly remembering where he had seen the boy before. Thoughts immediately turned to the shotgun and the role it had played. It was only a few days ago that he wondered into that old school in Redmond. It was there that he took the steps, knowingly or not, that ended this boy's life. Nightsky shook his head from side to side. Was this some kind of twisted nightmare?
"I know who you are." Nightsky admitted, holding the shotgun loosely now.
"You killed me."
The blunt words took a stab at Nightsky's heart. He had killed people before. In fact, he had taken a number of lives without feeling sorry for himself. The first time he committed murder was hard. After that it just got easier to the point that he didn't think about it anymore. Though most of those times it were kill or be killed.
"I'm sorry," Didn't seem good enough, but it was all he had to offer.
"Why do you hate so much?"
The question kind of caught Nightsky off guard. "What?" He said softly.
"Why do you? All you want to do is kill the infect. It doesn't matter to you if they are ghouls or vampires or banshees. For you, if someone has a trace of the Human-MetaHuman Vampiric Virus, there are you're enemy. Why do you hate so much?"
Nightsky didn't answer at first. He didn't want to answer for all the bad memories it conjured up. "That's a lot of big words for a kid to say." He finally offered.
The boy didn't reply. He only stood quietly like he was expecting an answer. He started slowly rocking again.
Nightsky sighed, dropping to his knees. It brought him eye-level with the boy. Nightsky couldn't bring himself to release his grip on the Roomsweeper for some reason. The idea of holding the weapon didn't appeal to him, but he couldn't bring himself to cast it aside.
"Well?" The boy asked again. "Why? Why do you hate?"
Nightsky took a breath, trying to organize his thoughts. "Because, a long time ago, they took away my life. I wasn't always like I am now. I had a family and good, decent friends. I was happy then, but then those things came and took it all away. They killed my parents. They took away my friends. They burned my home. They took it all away from me. My hate," Nightsky paused in mid-thought, pushing some or the harsher memories to some far corner of his mind. "It's all that I have left."
The boy didn't say anything. He kicked an imaginary rock with his foot. "You took away all I had."
Nightsky was taken back by the statement. His blood ran cold. Oddly his grip on the Roomsweeper tightened.
"You killed my dad." The boy started to cry a little. "He was just a ghoul to you, but for me he was all that I had. You took him away from me." The boys eyes, once seeming so sad, now seemed to be judging Nightsky. "Should I hate you?"
Nightsky didn't have an answer. At least, not one that he wanted to admit to. He wanted to say "Yes" because the boy had every reason to. It wouldn't surprise him if the boy wanted him dead. He shoved the thoughts aside, denying what he really did. "I didn't mean to do what I did."
The boy's eyes suddenly looked sad again. His chin started to tremble.
Nightsky took one look at the kid and felt the guilt bite at his insides. What he said was cold and he knew it. He knew he was lying.
"Do you ever mean to do what you do?" The boy questioned. "Is it never you're fault? Was it you're hand on the gun?"
Nightsky turned away from those questions. The boy took a step closer, unwittingly putting himself in harm's way of the Roomsweeper. It didn't occur to Nightsky to move the barrel.
"Did you take everything away from me?" The boy asked. "Just tell me."
Nightsky rested his arm on his knee, covering his mouth in the process. Inside Nightsky knew the truth, but the truth was a hard thing to look at. The truth was worse than a lie. It always is. Nightsky shut his eyes, trying to squeeze everything out.
"You still have this." The boy tapped the end of the Roomsweeper. "It's same one you had in the school."
The boy's words were like Nightsky's own thoughts. He became fully aware of the weapon for the first time. The choke was set tight, just like it had been in the school. The handle was slightly warped, also like it was before. The boy was right in the line of fire.
Was that the same too?
"Answer me." The boy begged. "Tell me the truth. Did you take it all away?"
Nightsky's finger settled on the trigger. It was cold to the touch and rough from years of use. He did it without thinking. A common action for someone who used firearms so much.
"Tell me yes or no." The boy pleaded. "I need to know."
Nightsky met the boy's blue eyes for the first time, holding the stare for a long moment. There was the hollow sound of the shotgun's slide being worked, pushing a flechette round into the chamber.
"Did you take it away from me?"
Nightsky aligned his forearm with the Roomsweeper, bracing against the recoil. His muscles stiffened as well, searching to find a position that would keep the barrel stable. Nightsky never let his eyes wonder from the boy's.
"Yes, I did."
Nightsky turned the barrel on himself and squeezed the trigger.