#I think someone called it fast consumerism? or something? But yeah its just | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bluepenguinstories · 7 years ago

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Happiness Overload Chapter Sixteen

″Winry?″ Wheezed a tiny voice, uttered from one asleep for days.

Staring into the image of another may have conjured something. Whatever the word 'Winry' meant, it meant nothing to me. There may have been a loss for words, or a greeting to this awakened guest, such as a ″good morning.″ Instead, what was said was a far different reaction entirely.

″TRENT, YOUR PATIENT JUST WOKE UP AND CALLED ME WINRY!″

It's not like I didn't want to help people. It's just that all those years of medical school and interning in a hospital never prepared me for this.

I let out a professional sigh. When I lifted my head, she was standing right behind me.

″Would you like to meet them?″ She asked. I admit, I was curious. My more rational mind was telling me to seek the authorities, take this stranger to the hospital, but I knew she would insist that we keep this person here and recover, just as she's insisted every other time I tried bringing it up. Wonder what good sense has ever done when it comes to her.

″I suppose. I mean, I still can't believe all this is really happening,″ I muttered.

″Neither can I, but what can you do? They would be dead right now if not for us.″

From the sound of things, one couldn't be faulted for assuming a situation like this was from a TV show, and not real life.

Is this a Truman Show sorta thing? The Trent Show? That wouldn't make for a very good premise. The ratings would plummet fast.

Few paces through the hall, in the guest room of my apartment. That's where my 'patient' was resting. However, when I got there, they were sitting up with a perplexed expression fixed on their face.

″I tried clapping, but for some reason I couldn't move my other hand!″ They exclaimed.

″Not usually the reaction someone has upon finding out they've lost an arm...″ I blurted out.

They looked over, eyes widened. Shocked, surprised. Those were appropriate reactions.

″Well, how about that? I guess it's never too late to learn to write with your other hand,″ they observed, astonished, but still not reacting the way a normal person would.

She pulled out a chair and propped it up next to our guest. She sat down and folded her hands under her chin, presenting herself as some sort of researcher observing a creature in the wild.

″Tell me, what happened to you?″ She asked, straight and to the point.

″I'd love to!″ Burst the black haired stranger, still barely awake and yet so full of energy. ″...Except, I don't remember a goddamn thing!″ The patient laughed for a bit, then sighed.

″Nothing at all?″

″Well, okay, I remember bits and pieces. Memories are a tricky thing, aren't they?″

She nodded. I couldn't help but nod too.

″It's like a dream. If I don't focus on it, I'll forget it all. As it is now, there are only bits and pieces,″ they added.

″Could you tell me what those bits and pieces are?″ She requested, her voice soft enough that anyone denying such a request would be a fool.

″Something about time cube...non-euclidean architecture...pyramids...flashbulbs...″

Sounds like the ramblings of a conspiracy theorist, a thought barged in, not one I invited, but one that showed up nonetheless.

″What if I really did wake up from a dream?″ They added. ″What if I don't have any prior experiences, memories are just dreams, and here I am, being born for the first time? Born with only one arm. Isn't that just the saddest thing you ever heard? I don't have a life before, only dreams.″

They huffed and puffed, their breathing becoming intense.

″I don't think that's the case,″ she reassured, or dismissed. ″But I couldn't say for certain.″

″Yeah, that doesn't actually make sense,″ they agreed. So much for shock. Whoever this person was, they were more at ease over a situation that would have likely left most traumatized.

″Trent and I found you in a park. We thought you were a corpse. You were all bloody and torn up, missing your arm. Trent,″ she turned her head in my direction. ″Concluded that you were still alive, so I urged him to take you back to his place.″

″It's true,″ I chimed in. ″I didn't really have the space for it, and I was reluctant, but my sister-in-law can be quite stubborn.″

″Sister-in-law?″ They asked.

″Oh, it's nothing,″ she brushed aside. ″I'm just engaged to his sister.″

″I still can't believe it,″ I muttered.

She smiled. ″It is rather amazing, but what can I say? Sometimes these things just happen. You don't always know who you're going to fall in love with.″

″No, not that,″ I shook my head. ″My sister took a liking to you almost immediately. Talking about this person we took in.″

″Who? Me?″ They asked, trying to point to themselves, but with the missing arm.

″Yes. By all accounts, you should have died.″

″Trent! Insensitive!″ She scolded.

″Right. Where's my bedside manner?″ I scolded myself as well. ″I don't mean to be so blunt, but it's really quite the miracle.″

″Miracle or coincidence,″ she added. ″You're a doctor with enough medical supplies in your apartment to run a home clinic if you wanted to.″

″I just said I don't have the space for that! This room is tiny enough as it is!″

She huffed. ″I'm glad we were able to save a life, whoever this person may be. It may seem a little too convenient, but it would have put a damper on my day if I had to call the authorities because I found a corpse in the park.″

Neither she nor I know tact, do we?

Our unknown guest poked at their lump of flesh that was once an arm. ″It feels all weird and gross. Makes me uncomfortable,″ they traced their finger down a little through the air. ″My elbow was probably here.″

The sight was making me uncomfortable as well. She didn't seem fazed by it. For a second I thought she might have been amused, but if she was, that feeling passed as she ignored what she was seeing.

″Could you tell me your name?″

″Nope!″ They squeaked. ″I have no clue what it is! It's like I have selective amnesia or something. It's not like I've forgotten how to tie my shoes or anything, but my name? Oh yeah!″

This really is like the plot of a bad TV show, ran another thought, this one looking like it was gearing up for a marathon.

″It's like you're a blank slate,″ she stated.

″I'm here to chew ass and kick bubblegum!″ I exclaimed, my inner nerd getting the best of me.

She blinked. ″What?″

″You must not have been to that part of the 80s,″ I gave a playful scoff.

″Indeed. I don't get the reference,″ she nodded.

″They Live! One of the greatest movies of all time and definitely John Carpenter's best, hand's down! You gotta watch it sometime!″ I gushed.

″I'll look into it. Why do you bring it up?″

″The main character's like a blank slate as well! I forget the character's name, but who cares? It's got everything a good movie needs! Action, social commentary, wrestlers, one-liners, aliens, John Carpenter, you name it!″

No comment. Which meant I had no choice but to continue.

″It's about a stranger who shows up in a city and finds these glasses that shows the world being controlled by capitalism and the masses are all manipulated by consumerism and that the rich are aliens in disguise hellbent on keeping their power over humanity.″

″Dude. Spoilers,″ my patient scolded, who in my opinion, was angry over nothing.

″Doesn't sound far from the truth,″ she replied, her voice indicating an awareness I could never know. She turned her attention back to the patient.

″So, you don't remember your name. What if I were to give you one?″

″I wouldn't mind!″ They grinned.

″Very well,″ she let a smile slip as well. ″How does 'Blanc' sound? It doesn't quite sound the same as blank, but close enough, right?″

They laughed. ″Sure! And my last name could be 'Slait'!″

God, it would be so terrible if someone with that same name already exists, less a thought and more a tomato shot through a cannon found its way into the same room with the previous thoughts as my palm found its way onto my face, covering the entirety of it.

″Nice to meet you, Blanc Slait. You should get some rest. You're still recovering,″ she instructed, before leaving the room.

I felt awkward still standing there, so I did my best to say something.

″I know this all seems really strange, but we're good people. Things will get better for you, I'm sure of it.″

Blanc leaned forward, trying to move the stump that was once their arm.

″Oh shit, I can't give a thumbs up,″ they grimaced. ″The sentiment is there, I think...″

I tried to crack a smile, but couldn't.

″Strange things happen everywhere,″ they added. ″Just because you've encountered some things out of the ordinary doesn't mean you've experienced everything.″

″Why?″ Was the single word uttered by a gray mass of flesh. Or, if you could call it flesh. Whatever alien material it could be, it was what covered the body of the one who asked me the question. Whatever you want to call it, it was repulsive.

″WHY? BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO!″ I screamed.

I shrugged. My limbs were weak, but my will was strong. Right then, my will was telling me to shrug. So I did. This human's troubles were not my troubles. What other response was I supposed to give.

″You came to me asking for my help with the assumption that I could help you. You want to get out of here, back to the city you're from. You say you have no way to get here. You say I can help you. Assuming I can, I must ask again: why?″

Looks of desperation. That's what I noticed. Thin-skinned humanoid, malnourished, broken glasses, a shell. The shell spoke.

″I'll never come back here! I'll let all of you live!″

I shrugged again. ″Do you think I care whether or not you come back? Or whether or not any of us lives? I could die right now and I wouldn't have a single regret.″

″So then what? What do you want?″

That day was one for the record books. 'Shrugfest', they would call it. The most amount of times shrugged in a single day by yours truly, Tim.

″Why do you think I want anything? All I asked you is why.″

″Argh!″ The specimen roared, stomping and tearing out bits of hair. ″I don't get it, then! 'Why' what?″

Fourth time. You already know what.

″Why do you want to return?″

Deja vu struck.

″No, don't answer that. It's 'because I don't know what to do', isn't it?″ I asked, and if my body was a little less sluggish, I would crack a smile. ″Only before, you were thinking that I was asking 'why should I help you?' The funny thing is, your answer before is the same answer it would be now. Yes?″

″You know, I really hate you Beiges.″

″Beiges...Beige...some people really have trouble figuring out which one it is. I don't know why.″

″You think you're so funny, huh? You think you're so clever? All you guys ever do is smoke weed and not have individual names!″

″Excuse you. I don't smoke weed and my name is Tim,″ I corrected. I may not be one to get angry, but I would rather someone not spread false information.

″Are those your defining character traits? That's it? Honestly, how are you Beiges ever going to rule over humanity?″

″I'd like to think I have more individuality than my brethren.″

This human has the nerve to come to my room, invade upon my sheepskin rug, walk around my bowl of Cheerios, and accuse me of being like the ones downstairs? The audacity.

This bespectacled, disheveled creature drew a deep breath, then exhaled. While doing so, fingers fluttered about. It must have been some mating ritual for humans. I shrugged.

″Okay, okay. I need to calm down. Conrad, get a hold of yourself. You may have lost your leverage, you may have to resort to working with yet another enemy, but you can get through this,″ the being muttered to themselves.

″You already know, though, don't you? I mean, I'm only about to tell you this because I don't care and neither do the ones downstairs,″ I began. ″We are the last of our kind. What you see is what you get. There was a time when we were interested in ruling over Earth. We had many a great technology. We even worked, hand in hand, with The Flashbulb. But of course, they got greedy and stole from us and left us stranded. Sure, they've got plenty of smart people on their team, but they wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as they did if they hadn't taken our stuff.″

Conrad, I take it, pushed up their broken glasses, in what must have been a force of habit.

″Oh, I know. I also know there's something you're not telling me. But that's okay, because I already know.″

I sucked on a cheerio. It was a better use of my time than shrugging.

″I've seen leaked emails. You guys have bred with humans long ago. Who knows how many Beige humans there are out there, running amok, weaving a web over society from within? But I know one thing. One such offspring has made themselves very known.″

″You don't mean?″ I started shivering. No longer able to shrug it off. The implications...

I sucked on another cheerio in anticipation.

″Oh boy do I ever. I don't know how, but if you help me out, I can put a stop to this offspring.″

I tossed a handful of cheerios in my mouth and started sucking.

' ″You know, you're being awfully dramatic when everything's chill, right?″ I replied, mouth full of cheerios.

I could see Conrad ready to blow up.

″I can tell you how to get out of here,″ I offered.

″Oh, let me guess: out the front door?″ Conrad scoffed.

That was clever. Wish I thought of that.

″No, I was thinking more Cairo. I don't know how you'd get to your intended destination from there, but you're smart. You'll figure it out.″

I shrugged. That was an appropriate shrug. Been a long time coming.

″Knowing that there's a way fills me with determination!″ Conrad declared.

″See? Problem solved. Now, here's what you gotta do...″

″Sir?″ The word floated, images moved on well over a hundred small screens, all at my disposal. I was unsure whether or not I would be granted a response from my superior, but it was worth bringing up what I saw, all the same.

″What is it, private? Can't you see I'm busy stroking my mustache. My long, thick, pulsating mustache,″ he explained. As if he had any reason to. I did not need that image in my head and he knew it.

″Someone just tried climbing over the fence at our main gate.″

″Is that so?″ He asked.

″It's okay, though. They were shot down immediately. Didn't even make it far off the ground.″

″Why bring it up, then?″ He growled.

″It's the most activity we've had in a while. Someone must be off their rocker to think they can just climb over and waltz right in.″

I've seen this before, somewhere buried in my past. Just five years back. My underling, sitting at the desk, may not think much of it, but those memories still haunt me.

″In all my years, there has been but one who has broken in and lived.″

″Oh?″ Private Goodwill perked up.

″Yes, and if I ever see Jo-Ann again, I will be the one to personally execute her,″ I swore, yanking at my mustache with furor and ever increasing intensity.

″Right. The one that got away,″ Private Goodwill sighed.

″She made a disgrace of our very institution!″ I gritted my teeth. ″I remember it clear as day – all the new recruits lined up on the field. I was pacing about, examining each and every one of them. She was not among them. That should have been the first clue that something was off.″

I began. I would have preferred to suppress such memories, but once the blood starts rushing, it's hard to keep it all down.

″'Recruits!' I barked. 'From this day forth, you shall work around the clock, watching over this facility and all the equipment we keep. Although we have provisions in place to make sure no one gets in, or out, without our authority, as an added measure, each and every one of you will not have contact with the outside world. Internet and landlines will be strictly monitored. Anyone attempting to make contact will be executed with no remorse.'″

″I could sense the beads of sweat on each of their faces. Everything was going good. Fear had been established.″

″'Do I make myself clear?' I demanded. Before any of them could say 'Yes, sir', out of the corner of my eye, there she was, running forth. Failing to blend in with the crowd. Yet she wore the same equipment as the rest of us.″

″She bent to her knees, trying to catch her breath. When she finally stood up, she did the typical salute. 'Apologies! Couldn't find my way around! This place is like a maze!' I must have at least popped three veins. I couldn't believe it! That was her fucking excuse?″

Private Goodwill yawned. ″This is an excellent monologue, sir, but I'd really like to focus and make sure there are no more anomalies.″

He stared back at the screen, but my mustache and I would not allow such disrespect.

″There's not a lot to do around here, you know that as well as I do! Every portion of this facility is properly staffed to deal with each little thing. If I'm going to tell a story, I'm damn well going to tell a story.″

″Fine,″ Goodwill sighed. ″You've got me there. Continue.″

″So I made an example of her. It was the only way to contain my rage.″

″'What is your name, cadet?'″

″'Jo-Ann, sir!'″ She chirped. The tone was all wrong. Something didn't add up, and even though I didn't know what, I knew she was to blame.″

″'Well, Jo-Ann', I began, then pulled out my radio transceiver. 'Major Craft, please report to the barracks. We've got a case of insubordination'. After I put the transceiver away, I turned back to her. 'You're about to experience true fear.'″

″She smirked. 'What? Fear? And here I thought I'd love craft!'″

″I seethed. Grinding my teeth and hissing curse words under my breath. My mustache and I were in distress. Luckily, approaching from just out of the metal doors was Major Craft.″

″'Oh, you're in for it now', I told her. 'Those escorted by Major Craft experience torture beyond their wildest imaginations. Forget waterboarding, the things he'll do will make that seem like watersports! By the time we're through with you, you'll wish you had been killed.'″

″She smirked, but said nothing. The gall! It was like she wasn't even fazed by my speech. All the other recruits were quivering in their loins!″

″Well, yeah,″ Private Goodwill butted in. ″Major Craft's just some scrawny, old, white guy.″

My mustache and I would learn to ignore his comment. It was true, but Major Craft deserved more respect than that.

″He approached the line and croaked in his weary voice 'what seems to be the trouble, sergeant?'″

″'Cadet Jo-Ann here', I pointed to the perpetrator as I told him. 'Has shown my mustache and I the worst attitude. She must be thoroughly punished.'″

″He scratched his chin. 'Indeed,' he agreed. He shuffled on over to where Jo-Ann was and whipped out a metal rod, surging with electricity. He grabbed her arm with his free hand and proceeded to take her away.″

″She turned to me and grinned. 'Lemme guess,' she said. 'This is that trope where the guy grabs the powerful girl's arm and somehow she's powerless?'

″You know what I did, Private? I pulled out my assault rifle that was hanging off my back, and pointed it at her. I said: 'that's right! And if you don't go with Major Craft, I'll kill you right here on the spot. So don't fuck around!'″

″Wow. Must've given ol' Jo-Ann the heebie-jeebies,″ Private Goodwill replied, sounding unimpressed. I reached for my glock. If it wasn't for my mustache holding me back, I would have shot Goodwill on the spot. No one needed to look at so many monitors anyway.

I stared at the metal tiles underneath me. ″No,″ I muttered.

″You say something, Chief?″ Goodwill responded.

″God damn it! No! Jo-Ann wouldn't wipe that smug look off! Major Craft prodded her with the tranquilizing rod and that should have been the end of it. She winced and looked to over, convulsing, but maintaining composure. It made me sick. Like she just had to put on a show. 'Fine by me,' she heaved her words. 'I'll play along'.″

″That should have been the end of it. Major Craft grabbed Jo-Ann's arm and walked her back into the building where she would face unspeakable torture. I turned to the cadets and pointed my assault rifle at each of them. 'Let that be a lesson! If any of you speak out of line, walk out of line, do anything that does not align with our standards, you will be shot on sight, or worse!'″

″Hm. And that wasn't the end of it?″ Egged Goodwill.

″I thought it would be. I really did...″

I didn't like to show weakness. My greatest weakness, however, was this story that would haunt me to the grave. How I let such a miscreant get away, tarnish the reputation of Groom Lake, it besmirches the very name of Sergeant Michaels. I should have been demoted.

″Just as I was about to debrief the cadets and put that incident past me, I get something on my transceiver.″

″'Wanna help me knit a sweater?'″ the voice said. It sounded old, earthen. World weary. As if to imitate Major Craft. But I knew better. Major Craft's voice was more like an aged wine mixed with the sweat of my mustache.″

″Ew,″ Private Goodwill commented. I would be sure to shut him up very shortly.

″'What?!' I barked. 'The fuck is this? Where is Major Craft?'″

″That crotchety old bag?' The voice revealed its true colors, belonging to the one who called herself Jo-Ann. 'Shot him. Did you really expect me to comply? That ain't me. I just needed a way to get in.'″

I cleared my throat. Was about to choke. ″'Who are you really?' I demanded.″

″The voice snickered before saying: 'Just your friendly neighborhood fabric store. Now if you excuse me, I have a ship to steal!'″

″Isn't this place like, worse than Fort Knox or something, though?″ Goodwill pondered.

″That's what it should be! And yet this person calling herself Jo-Ann not only got in, but killed Major Craft, and stole a ship! We sent hundreds of soldiers, lasers, drones, but she was nowhere to be found! It was like we were dealing with a ghost!″

″That's all very interesting, sir, but Major Craft is still alive. I just saw him last week. Still old, but alive.″

″What? You dare disrespect the dead? My mustache and I will not tolerate --″

″Furthermore, sir, as great as your story was, I remember a Jo-Ann that you personally trained. She started as a cadet, went through the ranks, eventually became a Lieutenant, and earned your respect. She even seemed well on her way to surpassing you.″

I paused. It was coming back to me. Why I remembered things the other way...it didn't make any sense. It was as if I had two different instances of the same person.

″One day, she just vanished and you vowed to kill her if you ever saw her. Ever since her disappearance, you tell a different story about her, which is weird, but I listen because every time because you threaten to kill me.″

My mustache twitched. So did my trigger finger.

Before I could reach for my assault rifle, the lights flickered. An unusual thing for a place such as this. Private Goodwill noticed the anomaly too.

″So much for florescent,″ he joked. Something was amiss. Before I could comment, everything went dark.

″Hey!″ The voice receiver on my Prinny armor reacted. ″The power cut out. I think there's been a break in! The sensors are definitely picking up something!″

In just a second, the backup generators would pick back up, and just as they would, I would already be well on my way to catching the culprit.

″Thank you, Clippy,″ I replied to the voice at the other end of the receiver.

There was a heavy sigh. ″For the last time, that's not my name.″

I ignored it and went out into the halls. I had a gut feeling who was behind all this. After all these years...

″Jo-Ann...″

Someone climbed over the electric fence. Or tried. They didn't get very far before getting shot down. They would've been a goner anyway what with the fence being electric and all. Never understood fanatics, if we're being honest. Some people just want to see what those soldiers are guarding. If they knew the truth, they would be unimpressed. Or wouldn't know what to do with said information.

There were a few cars huddled out. No one seemed the least bit concerned about the person who was just shot.

This really is like a tourist trap, I couldn't help but think.

I watched the scene unfold from a safe distance with the camera, using it as a sort of binoculars. Not the intended use, but it wasn't like I was about to take pictures.

I looked behind me before making my way to the place that could have very well spelled my death.

My eyes grew wide.

The forest was no more.

Back to desert plains.

″No need to mull over such things,″ I shook my head and groaned. ″I've gotta go and get myself into trouble.″

″Huh?″ I remarked.

The highway close to our base transformed within an instant into a forest. No explanation, no forces of our own at work.

″Did any of you guys see that?″ I leaned into my computer and asked around.

I got a few responses from other departments in the facility, each saying they did, but weren't responsible. Of course they weren't. None of us were. If someone here was, I would have known about it.

″Sarge, did you see this?″

No response. I overheard the Sergeant recite his Jo-Ann story. When will the muscled idiot get it through his thick mustache that Jo-Ann was just an alias? I tuned him out and switched channels, eavesdropping my way to two soldiers discussing their lives before coming here. Husbands, wives, kids, friends, all that jazz.

″Should have thought about that before you signed on for this place,″ I put in my two cents.

″Huh?″ The two soldiers looked around.

Crap.

″Sorry, guys, didn't think you guys would hear me.″

Should really be more careful. Here I thought I was the tech genius.

Private Goodwill is Sarge's right-hand-man, but his cameras only pick up the general vicinity. I could see and hear the surrounding areas inside and outside. Nothing was off limits. In fact...

″I see you, you little raccoon,″ I whispered. This time also making sure not to have the receiver on so others wouldn't hear.

I grabbed a chunk of beef jerky and bit in, yanking and gnashing away at the juicy bits. Some beef was sure to get stuck in my teeth, but it wasn't like I was here to look pretty.

When I looked back up, she was gone. Faded from view.

″Oh, good going, you let her get out of your sights,″ I gave my arm a light punch.

No matter. I'll catch you, my pretty. And your little dog, too...

As I had that thought, my mind no longer thinking of espionage, Wizard of Oz, or 'Africa' by Toto, and instead thinking how nice it would be to see rain again, the lights flickered.

My monitors dimmed for just a bit. All the lights went out.

″Hey!″ I called out to whoever might listen. Maybe the Sarge was done with his story by now. ″The power cut out. I think there's been a break in! The sensors are definitely picking up something!″

Only a few seconds later, everything was back up. Nothing could keep us down. Yet if someone was able to turn off the electricity, that meant they were able to get in, and if they were able to get in...

″I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work.″

″Wow...″

Velvet was no longer in view. Wherever she was, I hoped that she would be happy. Part of me wished she had stayed with Euphoria and felt the rush of happiness that I felt. Another part of me was too happy to care.

I looked up. The branches of the tree extended past my view. The clouds shifted, the sky was a nice, crisp blue.

″I can't believe this is happening...″ I muttered. My breath made a fog. The desert heat was in full effect and yet in the arms of Euphoria I felt a chill as if it were winter.

″WHAT DO YOU MEAN?″

″Here with you, the one I had been searching for all this time, and now I don't have to do anything else. I could spend eternity with you.″

I looked over to the wreckage of Art's car. Somehow it passed my mind that he had even died. It seemed rude of me, and yet I couldn't break free of what I was feeling.

″Shame what happened to Art, though. Wish he didn't have to die...″

His car went up in flames, as if to add insult to injury.

″FLAMES MAKE THE CAR HAPPY!″

I winced. Euphoria looked down. She must have noticed my dismay.

″WOULD IT MAKE YOU HAPPY IF ART WAS ALIVE?″

″Well...″ I didn't say yes or no. I didn't have to.

Emerging from the flames was a thick shadow, forming into view the figure of Art, a chubby backpacker and fan of cryptids, now seemingly the subject of his own fanatacism. He motioned toward me, looking just like I imagined his burning corpse would look.

He stared at me, leaned over, hands on hips, inches away from my face. I could smell his breath. Minty, with a hint of decay. He opened his mouth wide to form a toothy grin, or as toothy as it could be with many teeth missing, chipped, or covered in blood.

″MOTHMAN?″ He bellowed, only it was too high pitched to be considered a bellow. In fact, it resembled the voice I associated with Euphoria more. I turned to her, my face dull.

″Put it back,″ I requested.

She grinned as well and it felt like her grin would swallow me whole. When I turned back over to see if Art would be grinning as well, he was gone. In fact, the car was still burning. The forest looked like it was about to catch fire. I was left to wonder if such an encounter actually happened.

″WHAT WOULD MAKE YOU HAPPY RIGHT NOW?″ Euphy asked me. Heh. Euphy. Been a while since I even thought of such a nickname.

″I don't know. I'm just happy to be here with you.″

It felt strange of her to ask. As if she wouldn't know.

I held her tight. Or she held me tight. I wasn't sure which of us did the holding.

″Do you love me?″ I asked. I didn't know why.

She jolted up, let go of me, and stood up. Still beaming, a glowing ray of light surrounding her.

″OF COURSE! I LOVE YOU AND YOU AND YOU AND YOU AND CONRAD AND CONRAD AND VELVET AND VELVET AND KELLY ROGER AND MARCO AND ART AND TRENT AND ETNA AND ECSTASY AND TIM AND...″ She kept listing names, but after Tim I lost track. Half of those names I didn't recognize, and I was a little confused by the multiple mentions of some of us. I thought I understood the multiple mentions of me, but as for the others...

I looked over. She was still counting names on her fingers. Except with each new name she grew a finger. She must have had hundreds of fingers at that point. She was still counting.

″That's a lot of love...″ I joked.

″OF COURSE!″ She countered, still as brimming with joy as ever. ″LOVE IS THE BEST! ESPECIALLY THE KIND THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY! THE WORLD CAN LOVE! THE WORLD CAN BE HAPPY! I JUST KNOW IT!″

My eyes widened. That's right. I forgot. The Beige. What they told me about Euphy.

″Or...″ I mused, hoping wit would be on my side. ″maybe it's enough to just make one person happy.″

″NONSENSE! HAPPINESS IS A GIFT! GIFTS ARE MEANT TO BE SHARED!″

″Can you share that gift with me just a little longer?″ I was being selfish, or maybe I didn't want the world to fall in such a disarray. My mind couldn't tell the two apart at that moment.

She held me once more, and I held her. There was a certain warmth in the air. It could have been that the forest was burning around us, or it could have been the way she made me felt. Considering what she was capable of, it was probably both.

If I just keep holding onto Euphoria forever, maybe then, I'll be happy.

When I opened my eyes, we were still holding onto each other. Her embrace meaning everything. We were no longer in the forest. Or we never moved away from the forest. But we were somewhere else. The vastness of space. Or complete nothingness.

″How am I alive right now?″

″WE'VE BEEN HUGGING FOREVER! ETERNITY OBTAINED!″

I wanted to freak out. I wanted to do something. But I was so calm. Everything was over, but us. We were still alive, or maybe we weren't alive at all. I couldn't tell the difference. I was so happy.

But...

It didn't feel right.

″Can we go back to that moment in the forest?″ I asked, although I don't think my mouth moved the entire time.

She nodded her head with such vigor. Before I could even close my eyes, if they were ever open to begin with, we were back.

I held her tight. Such a being with infinite power and somehow I still wasn't satisfied.

″Why? Why am I not satisfied?″

″YOU'RE WORRIED!″ She squeaked.

″How? What?″ I just had more questions.

″IT'S OKAY! YOU DON'T NEED TO WORRY, THOUGH!″

″But why? What am I worried about?″

″YOU DON'T FEEL LIKE YOU'VE EARNED THE RIGHT TO BE HAPPY! BUT YOU DON'T NEED TO EARN HAPPINESS!″

She was right. I didn't know how, I didn't even know that about myself, but there was no denying it.

″You're right. You're wonderful.″

″I'M A GUARDIAN ANGEL!″

″I just hope Velvet will be okay.″

″SHE WILL BE HAPPY!″ Euphy cheered.

This put me on edge. ″Will she? Even if she dies?″

″DYING IS OKAY IF YOU'RE HAPPY!″

It was my turn. I let go of her. Something brought me back to reality. I shook my head at such a notion.

″No! I won't be happy if she dies!″ I protested.

I took it one step further and got up to my feet. There was definitely a forest fire, but it seemed to avoid us. Not even the smoke dare come near us.

Euphoria stood up as well. Towering over me, becoming as tall as the tree we were once laying under. She leaned down and with her mile wide grinned, spoke:

″WOULD YOU OPPOSE HER HAPPINESS IF IT MEANS SHE LIVES?″

″Yes,″ I closed my eyes and looked up as I spoke the one word that surprised me to say. ″Happily.″

It felt like I added that last bit in to mock her, and yet I didn't mean it that way. Upon opening my eyes, the thing standing in front of me was a creature of indecipherable shape, emitting a foul odor. Millions of arms stretched forth, all with blades for fingers. They all struck me right in the chest, and blood spilled from every orifice. I blinked.

Her warmth was with me once more. She was just as tall as me, in her angel costume and all. Her arms wrapped around my back, her human face nestled against my chest, no blood to be found.

″IF IT WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY, THEN I WILL SAVE HER!″ She declared.

″Actually, could I do this on my own?″ I begged. ″I don't want to rely on you.″

″VERY WELL!″

″Thank you. I hope to be with you once more when I'm ready. Whenever that may be.″

″YOU WILL ALWAYS BE WITH ME! YOU ARE ALREADY EUPHORIA! WHATEVER WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY, I CAN DO!″

I ran off, jumping for joy, kicking my shoes together in the air.

Before the flames could swallow me whole and I either suffocated on the fumes or burned alive, I yelled to her.

″Oh! One request: can you take this fire away? Actually, can you return this to a highway?″

She grinned.

Pressing forward, I ran through dirt, off the side of the road.

Cameras everywhere. Somehow I got the feeling they didn't know where I was yet, but they would soon. I would make sure of it.

I tried opening the breaker on the wall, but no dice. It was locked up with some kind of code. If I had my laptop with me, this whole operation would be a piece of cake. But seeing as I just had to go and make things harder for myself, I would have to make do with the ol' McGuyver method.

″The cameras seem to be picking up an unidentified presence...″ a soldier reported, and if memory served me, to nothing but thin air. As air tight as security should be, everyone is lost in their own little worlds.

Once said soldier came around the corner, with their heavy armor resembling the kind those militarized police wore back in the city I was living underground a few years back, I pulled their arm and kneed them in the face. They grabbed my leg and threw me to the ground. I hissed in pain, but could at least count my lucky stars that my kick managed to knock the soldier's helmet right off.

″Report! Requesting backup!″ The soldier leaned their head into their shoulder and wheezed those words. After making the damning report, they reached over and pointed a heavy rifle with some kind of liquid flowing through in a clear canister. It was something out of a video game, only it was staring me right in the face.

Before I could be blasted into nothingness, I grabbed the rifle with my own hands and shoved it in the soldier's face, knocking them back.

″Oh god oh god oh god...″ I stuttered and repeated back and forth, breathing out of control.

Did I just kill a guy? Who knows? All I know is that this has NOT been my week.

Also I knew one more thing: I had to get a move on, as back up was sure to arrive any second.

I checked for a pulse and let out a sigh of relief.

Within the moment, three soldiers arrive in the same hall, each carrying the same weapons. I'm sure at least three more were going to show up behind me. Good for those blokes. I shoved the rifle against the breaker and pulled the door open.

Buttloads of levers, buttons, and wires. My mind was racing too much.

I stood back and tossed the remaining contents of the canteen at the breaker. No dice, so I rammed the rifle into the breaker, and at once the whole thing blew out.

First a flicker. Then surrounded by darkness. The soldiers started taking their shots, but they each fell over at once, the armor I stripped from one of their brethren caught them all by surprise. They shot into the air, but by then, I shoved past them, stolen rifle still in my hand. I didn't intend to kill, but I was sure I could make use of it somehow.

Bright blue lights came into view.

Goodbye darkness, my old friend, I thought, reciting a song that had nothing to do with my situation.

I knew the power would be back on before long, but damn. Before I knew it, an alarm was sounding and commotion could be heard throughout. I had to use this to my advantage.

″The fuck? How did she manage to throw a prinny set with such force?″ I overheard the yelling.

I'd like to say I was on PCP, but I owe it all to the adrenaline rush I'm feeling.

″There's a fire! She must have be close!″

Well, you aren't wrong.

The fire was a mixture of the sleeping bag and an electrified current.

From what I gathered, they thought I was running toward where I actually came from. What idiots. They were giving me more credit than I was worth. Here I was being all ″metal gear solid″ and crawling in some fucking air vents and they couldn't put two and two together. I mean, I wasn't disappointed to be alive, but you'd really expect more from a top secret facility, y'know?

Mist poured through the vents.

Of course. They know I'm here. Of-fucking-course.

Poison gas. They were hoping to lure me out. To shoot me. Or if they think I won't come out, I'd succumb to the poison. Or if I tried to hold my breath, if I tried to keep myself from getting too exposed, I would suffocate.

With the rifle, I pried the closest vent door open. I tossed it down.

Gunfire erupted from every angle on the floor. My ears rang and might have kept ringing well after the ordeal was over, if I were to survive, in any case.

I peeked down and noticed turrets popped out of the floor.

Couldn't be assed to use real people, I see.

To the right of me was a panel. Some kind of code prevented me from opening it. If I could just think, just for a little bit, I was sure I could open it. The gases were getting to my brain. They would leak out into whatever room the gun fell into, but they were also leaking into my nervous system. My eyelids...

″Jo-Ann! I know you're near!″ Roared a voice I hadn't thought about for ages. That same voice also gave me the jolt I needed to keep moving.

I took a sharp turn through the vents and kicked down the door below. The mist was still getting to me, I knew, but even with my vision blurred and my hands shaking, I managed to pull out the camera and look down. No soldiers. No turrets. Sure, they would detect me just by entering wherever I was about to enter, but it was better than staying cooped up.

When I dropped down, it wasn't a smooth landing. All the blows I've taken that day, the ″car door surfing″, the fight with the soldier, the poison gas, it was all getting to me. My body swayed and my legs wobbled just trying to stand up.

″Jeez, no more rush, huh?″ I mumbled. I hoped no one could hear me. I'm sure, someone, somewhere could see me. ″I'm in the lion's den. I shouldn't have expected things to be easy.″

Around me were rows of lockers. Maybe I could have stolen a new suit of armor in one of them. Or some other nice equipment. Some aspirin. Some antidote. Something to think a rational thought.

Before I could look, though, a door slammed open.

″Jo-Ann! There you are! You thought you could hide from me?!″

I heaved and huffed, my breathing labored. I wiped the saliva from my mouth.

″Can you keep it down? I've got a real bad headache,″ I groaned in response to the raging bull charging toward me.

″Ha! Very funny! Ever the comedian, aren't you?″ Emerged Sgt. Michaels, donning a prinny armor, sans helmet. His thick, black mustache would haunt me to the day I die. His bloodshot eyes...weren't remarkable in the slightest.

I charged at him, feeling tipsy, and attempted to flip him over. Instead he grabbed my arm and held me up.

″What do you know? You really ARE powerless when I grab your arm!″ He growled and gave a hearty laugh for extra measure. I squirmed, his grip tightening. ″You've lost your touch, haven't you? Have you gain weight?″ He mocked me before tossing me across the room, my back slamming against a wall.

″Oh, I'm going to kill you, you can mark my words. But I don't need my guns,″ he tossed his rifle, and a pistol to the side. ″All I need are my bare fists.″

Sgt. Michaels. Well respected ball of rage and a lumbering idiot. I'm sure anyone could see where this was going.

I reached back. The camera was smashed. Glass lens broken. I wondered how many bones of mine were broken as well, if any.

″The funny thing is, you could have lived! The US government stopped caring! You became a non-issue! You're smart, you could have faked an ID, a social security card, something, and gotten yourself a good profession and lived out the rest of your life content! But you just HAD to go and sabotage that for yourself by coming here!″ He ranted before being the one to charge at me.

I got to my feet and swerved out of the way, holding glass shards of the camera in my hand.

″You just don't get it!″ I screeched. ″Self-Sabotage IS my profession!″

Couldn't take a plane. Had no money. No passport. Ended up stowing away in the cargo bay of a cruise ship headed to New York. Still a far cry from where it all began, but I was well on my way.

But why?

The thought told hold. Possessed me. I wanted to put up a sign, telling it that my place of business was closed. That I was no open to constructive criticism.

I unzipped someone's luggage. Snacks of various sort. The kind processed and contaminated with chemicals to control the world's population. The kind Kelly Roger and Velvet had no problem polluting themselves with. I had neither of them by my side at this point. Not even Blanc, in any form or degree of quality.

Where did I go wrong?

Oh, somewhere around the second or third rewrite.

My stomach growled, but I had to resist the urge. Even as I lost everything, I had to keep some of my convictions.

And what would those conditions be?

I opened someone else's luggage. There were fruits; apples, pears, donut peaches...just looking at them made me salivate. It was so tempting, but then I remembered all the pesticides that were sprayed and how most of them were probably clones of each other and not 'natural' fruit. My hunger was enough to disregard that fact for only a second, but I showed restraint.

If I had a computer with me, I could order food from the deep web. But where would I send it to? What am I going to do about food? Maybe I'll resort to cannibalism.

I pinched myself and got to my feet. Just up the stairs were humans, if they could even be called that. I knew for a fact that they were clones. Not even the guards were exempt. They were all filth. Human in name only. Once I get back to the city, I could turn back time, make it so that those abominations never existed. I would find a better Blanc, be upfront, tell them everything.

″There has been an intruder spotted on the ship!″ A voice on the intercom blared. My heart leaped, I turned cold. Colder than I already was. Guards were running my way.

They're going to send a coast guard. Arrest me. No, worse. Once they realized who I was, it was all over for me. They would kill me. Everyone in authority has a connection to The Flashbulb and they must have finally realized that I was never on their side, but using their technology for my own means. I was never a good swimmer, so jumping overboard isn't an option. But I can't allow myself to be captured...

Think, think...

This is a cruise ship. There will be rooms. Cameras all over, but...if they never see me leave the storage bay, and if I can mix in with a crowd, then maybe...

His fists, enhanced with the prinny armor, made the wall crumble. I had to roll once more just to avoid the debris. I rolled further back so he couldn't kick me, knowing him enough that he would try something like that.

I put the glass shards in my pocket and hanging from the ceiling, climbing a locker and reaching a lampshade.

″She's maneuvering upward,″ I heard a voice speak to Sgt. Michaels. ″I suggest you grab your gun and shoot her while you can.″

″No need,″ he responded. I reached for a glass shard and before I could move further up, a large chunk of debris hit me in the back and sent me falling back to the floor. But before I did so, I intended to leave my mark. I reached and with all my strength, plunged the glass shard in his forehead.

He grabbed my wrist and tried to slam me into the ground, but I swung forth and shoved my legs into his stomach, then with my other hand, pushed the glass shard further.

He let go and started wailing. I dropped down and limped toward his guns.

″She's headed toward...″ The voice began.

″FUCK! I KNOW!″ He yelped.

I could hear his heels. He was charging toward me. I took a quick peek and saw the blood seeping from his forehead. Another roll out of the way and as I made my way to my feet, I pointed the pistol I had stolen. I had just one chance. He was in my sights.

Total darkness. Shot across each one.

I darted toward the next door before I lost sight of where it was.

″She just turned out the lights. She's making her escape.″

″Not on my watch,″ I heard a grunt.

″Maneuver around, the pillar is in front of you.″

Whoever was instructing him was being a real pain in the ass.

This really is Velvet's No Good, Horrible, Very Bad Day, huh?

I was already in the next room over. More lockers. No soldiers. While I would have loved to thank my lucky stars, I began my counterattack by opening each locker I came across, using a bobby pin.

″Fuck's she doing?″ I heard not far from behind me.

Of course. Cameras everywhere. Hidden, too. No way to know where to shoot to destroy them.

″I respected you!″ I heard a roar. He was on my trail. ″But now I have to kill you!″

″She grabbed a dress? The fuck? Also, just so you know, sarge, she's already in another room.″

I swear, I won't die until I find whoever's feeding Michaels that information. Snitches get stitches.

″We're no strangers to this place!″ His voice echoed through every hall I passed. ″You know the rules and so do I!″

″Yeah, yeah, a full commitment's what you're thinking of!″ I yelled back, unsure if he actually heard me.

″You could have killed me! What's the matter? Have some kind of 'no-kill rule'?″

My god, he was ever so loud.

That's not it at all. I just get squeamish seeing corpses.

My head was pounding. My mustache grew brittle, tasting the blood from my forehead. It mingled with my sweat and both my sweat and blood were unhappy with what transpired. I vowed to kill Jo-Ann should the two of us cross paths, and in spite of my vow, yet again she got away.

″Clippy, come in, where is she now?″

No answer. I growled and pressed forward.

I was impressed, but her luck was about to run out.

So I thought, until she looked up and winked, as if to know I was watching, and began to put on the dress, disregarding the danger she was in.

My face grew red and I paused before looking away. When I looked back, she disappeared. I could hear her footsteps, but couldn't tell what direction.

I slammed my fists against the desk and started scanning the monitors.

″Sarge...″ I spoke into the microphone. ″She's close...″

″It's about god damn time!″ He barked. ″What took you so long? Don't you know this is serious business? Here I am hightailing my ass --″

I cut off the feed.

″Yeah, yeah, trespassing is a big deal, I get it,″ I muttered. ″Now let's see...″

I sat atop a table, applying makeup to my face.

″There you are!″ A soldier, not clad in prinny armor, but instead old fashioned tactical gear barged in, pulse rifle pointed at me.

Works for me, I thought.

″Like what you see?″ I teased. For a second, the soldier's weapon lowered before I saw their head shake and pointed the weapon once more, fingers inching on the trigger.

″Fine,″ I huffed. ″Have it your way.″ I dived behind the table, leaned it to the side, and rammed it into the soldier. Their weapon lowered, and before they could make any other moves, I reached for a taser I had grabbed from one of the lockers, removed the soldier's helmet, and charged it into the soldier's neck.

Once I was sure they were unconscious, I let go.

″You weren't my type, anyway.″

″She's approaching a computer lab,″ I informed Sgt. Michaels. Maybe I could get back into his good graces. I wished he would have just killed her when he had the chance and gotten it over with. His vendetta was ruining our success.

″Thanks, babe,″ a hoarse and rough voice, but on a higher register than the sarge's came in.

″You!″ I hissed. The one sarge was trying to kill.

″Nice to meet'cha! Can't wait to see you in person!″ She joked. It was grating. To think, after all she's endured, she still had the nerve..

″You think you're so clever? You're nothing without your technology!″

″To be fair, same could be said for you guys,″ she shot back.

I could hear the stamps of feet, click-clacking.

Her voice came on the receiver once more. ″Go ahead and tell Michaels where I'll be.″

″Sarge! She's...approaching my room...″

″Whoa, buddy!″ Someone rolled their windows down and stopped their car. I stopped to catch my breath. Desperate, I thought of asking the driver if they had any water.

″What'cha doin' runnin' 'cross the highway?″ The driver asked, their voice sounding like one of those surfers in California. The car stunk of weed, which made me want to cry. I missed being with the Beige and listening to their stories.

″Trying to get to Area 51,″ I pointed forward, probably looking like an idiot in the process.

″Far out! Same here, brah! Wanna lift?″

I wanted to say yes, but then I thought of Art. What trouble I got him into and now he's...hopefully...still a corpse.

″No thank you. I'd rather go it alone. Kinda need the exercise.″

The driver looked confused. I didn't know what to say. I don't think the driver did either.

″Uh...if you want to help, maybe you can spare some water?″

″Totes, brah! Gotta bottle here!″ I was thrown a bottle of water. Plastic bottles weren't really my thing, but I shrugged. Water is water.

″Thanks, uh, 'bra'?″ I didn't understand why surfer dudes liked to refer to people as underwear. Perhaps that was just one of those unsolved mysteries that went even deeper than such things as Area 51.

″No prob! Hang loose, brah! Gonna go hop the fence!″

I waved as the stranger drove past. Maybe it was stupid of me not to catch the ride, but I wasn't about to endanger someone in my own quest. After a few gulps from the bottle of water, I went back to running toward the facility.

Please be okay, Velvet, I thought. I had nothing to help her, but that wasn't going to stop me. I would ask Euphoria for help if I had to, even going against my previous word. Something Euphoria had said was nagging at me.

Would you oppose her happiness if it means she lives?

I stopped in my tracks.

″No way...″

She left much of her equipment on the ship. She was planning on going there from the beginning. She's trying to get herself killed.

″Even if that's the case, I won't let it happen,″ I declared and pressed on.

″What are we doing in this parade, anyway?″ Kelly Roger asked.

Balloons, floats, dancers, candy and confetti. I looked around with shame. Such shame that I was posing as a composer for a marching band and forced myself into watching such happy people. Joy on each and every face. Even the town crier, Kelly Roger, smiling ear to ear, even while trying to deny it.

The timing was off. It would fall into place, but I had to stall. Thinking about it all, I started to have second thoughts about the very thing I spent years putting into motion. Different series of the same events started to roll out. End credits in the middle of a film. Stay tuned for the sequel, where the exact same thing happens, in reverse order...

″Do you think it's right for me to insert myself into all these lives?″

″Um...Marco?″

I knew what would transpire given enough time.

″Please, call me Belial.″

Kelly Roger's head shook.

″I don't get it, but okay.″

I got out an umbrella. About a mile away, a building exploded. Police rushed to the scene. Soon they would declare it a terrorist attack. All the whole, the parade would go on, those overseeing the show not wanting to upset the masses. Not that they could be upset, anyway.

″I've got frogs in high places,″ I explained to Kelly Roger, before opening the umbrella and stepping out of the parade.

Merrily, merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream...

A mother whispering to a child. Faded scene. Cradle or a twin-size bed. Face blurred out. Whispering a lullaby. Soon the child drifts back to sleep.

″Fear not,″ she says. ″You won't remember any of this.″

Much taller. Whispering back.

″What is there to remember?″

″There was something you were doing. You came here for a reason. You had a quest. You failed your quest. But it's O.K. You can rest.″

Silver hair. Black hair. Blurring and meshing. Wires in the frame, wires above the bed. Ornaments or dried parts of sacrificed animals. Looking back up at the comforting face. Not a face at all. Silver with black streaks or black with silver streaks.

Zebra? Or sick horse?

Child running, two feet taller than before. Bed shrinking.

Running a fever.

I jolted up, the blanket sliding off of me, bandages revealing themselves, and a pain shooting through my arms. I looked beside myself.

Just one arm.

The dream, it was fading. But what was said was a lie. I remembered. Maybe not what I needed to remember, but I remembered something. Tears welled up in my eyes. The darkness surrounding me meant no one else was around to see or hear me.

″I failed my quest...″

″Who might you be?″ I stood outside the door, pistol pointed at the glass. Sitting down at a desk situated with many monitors was a girl, blue hair, like raspberry cotton candy. Obviously dyed.

″Mavis,″ she replied, not even giving me any mind. I couldn't open the door without a code. Not that I gave a damn. All I needed was for her to know that I meant business.

″Ha! What kind of name is that?″

She sighed. ″My parents named me after Mavis Beacon, their favorite typing application. They thought typing was the way of the future. Taught me to type with many keyboards starting when I was about four years old.″

″Wow, embarrassing.″

″And you?″

″I'm V—″

″Velvet. I know. I was just trying to humor you.″ I was taken aback, but I tried to play it cool.

″Actually, I was going to say Viola, but that works too.″

″You probably figure you're fine now that you found me,″ she changed the subject. Now that I gave her a good look, I could tell there were some serious eye baggage. ″I'll give you credit, most people can't even get near our facility without getting killed.″

″Helps that I've been here before,″ I replied with a shrug.

″You're not safe. Any minute now, the Sergeant will find you, and if he doesn't finish you off, I have lasers ready to fire at my command.″

″Oh yeah. That guy. You two seem to be real buddy-buddy. Are you guys some kind of item?″

She scoffed. ″Oh, please. I'm a lesbian.″

I pretended to get out a notepad and jot that down, using the pistol I was carrying as a makeshift pen.

″What are you doing?″ She squinted.

″Just filling out your character bio.″

″Is this all a joke to you?″

″Just need a bit of levity to keep myself sane.″

″In that case, you're going to need all the humor you can. You can't keep yourself sane. You had no reason to return to this place, and yet here you are, and for what reason?″

″That's for me to know and you to never find out.″

She scoffed and looked back at her monitor. Not very pleased with my answer, I see.

″You're probably thinking that we're so similar.″

Actually, I was thinking, if I had her setup, I'd obliterate her.

″But you wanna know the difference? I don't have to be a troll to be happy.″

″What's that supposed to mean?″

″I'm just fine keeping my mouth shut and putting my skills to use. You, on the other hand, go looking for trouble.″

″Keeping your mouth shut? That's no way to live.″

″That's how you get a pay check.″

I gave her a smug look. ″I've found I don't need one of those to survive.″

″Oh? Like you're doing right now? Is the life you've been living really surviving? Living underground with a paranoid freak and a fanatic? Stealing a home to give to a homeless man just so he can deliver you food in return?″

″How do you...?″ I stopped. This was all wrong.

″We could have killed you any time. Drone strike, raid, you name it. Do you remember the raid that drove you out?″

″I thought those were mercenary police officers working for the ETNA Corporation.″

She smiled, tore a piece of beef jerky, and smacked her gums while she chewed.

″ETNA couldn't care less about you. Of course, your crimes could not be overlooked. We had that old man executed as soon as you left.″

″No...″

″Surprised? You've been off the radar for three years. What do you care, anyway?″

I gave no response.

″Don't even try to act like you're better. Do you know how many lives you destroyed during your brief tenure with the CIA?″

I grit my teeth.

She likes to run her mouth, too. It's like I'm staring at a younger version of myself.

The thought made me grin. I couldn't help but bite my thumb.

″What's so funny?″ She grimaced.

″It's like you looked me up on Wikipedia. Never thought I'd have such a fan!″

She groaned. ″This is taking too long.″ She typed something up and red beams of light shot out from the walls and ceiling. Before any of them could hit me, I reached into my pocket and hit the door. It opened up, and I ran inside just before it closed back up.

″What?!″ She turned around and gasped. The pistol I had stolen was pointed against her head.

″Try harder.″

″You think you're so tough? You've only traversed a small fraction of this base! You have no idea --″

I cut her off.

″You're right. And I'll tear this whole place down.″

That would be my happiness.

″I'm home!″ Someone announced. I jolted up. I wished I could stop sleeping so much and try to get up. I didn't want to be a patient; lying in bed and so helpless. Who cared if I was missing an arm? I could still do things.

″Hey sis!″ Trent, the doctor, greeted.

″I brought cupcakes!″ The love of my life announced.

I ran up and hugged her, then looked over, eager to taste one. That was, until I saw what they were.

″Honey, you know I don't like velvet!″ I scolded.

″Fine, more for me,″ she shrugged.

″It's the dye..″ I tried to explain. Actually, I didn't like beetroot, either. Though I doubted those ones were made with beetroot.

″Sorry, long day at the lab. People want so many parts commissioned. I forget things, okay?″ She also tried to explain. We both laughed.

″It's all good. I'm just glad you're home.″

She walked over past the kitchen, where her other 'lab' was. 3D-Printers and various tools surrounded the room. She leaned against the counter and munched on a cupcake. Against the light of the mini-lamp, she was a radiating beauty. Although same could be said about her all the time.

″So,″ she began, mouth full of cupcake. ″How's the kid?″

We didn't actually know the patient's age, aside from that they looked young. Could have been a teenager, or in their twenties.

″They woke up yesterday. Called me 'Winry'...″

″Huh. Did we find anything out?″

″Nope. Some kind of memory loss. It will probably come back in time.″

″Ugh,″ she threw an entire cupcake in her mouth. Trent would have to take the package away from her before she ate the whole thing. ″This is just like the plot of some bad TV show.″

I laughed.

″Tell me about it...″ Trent sighed from just behind me. ″Looked it up, by the way. Winry's some anime character.″

″Wait! Lemme see!″ She ran over and snatched Trent's phone.

I blinked. Next thing I knew, she had her palm over her face and burst into laughter.

″Ha! She really does look like you!″

I peeked. My face was flushed.

″This...isn't...no...″

She kept reading about the character. I felt like I was going to cry.

″Don't worry, hun. You're not like her in profession.″

″Yeah,″ Trent added. ″You're more like if Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy had a baby.″

I glared. ″Gee, thanks. You make me sound so villainous.″

″Well, you are a therapist who studies plants, dear,″ she pointed out.

I tried getting up.

I leaned myself forward and managed to pick myself up off my feet. Just a little bit more, and I was standing. No blanket on me. I was so proud of myself I threw both my arms up into the air...and realized I only had one raised.

How did this happen? Was I born this way?

Dark energies swirled, a sharp pain where my other arm should have been struck me and it was like my mind was begging to tell me, but just didn't have the funds to do so. I was in some sort of a trance, ready to pass through and unleash some dark act. But the dark act in question was really just a single step, then a wobble and a trip.

Landing back on my ass, I found the culprit: a loose screw.

From my mind, no less.

No. Just a little screw.

Could be worse. Could have been a Lego.

My landing caused an impact that shook the floor. Rocked the very core of the apartment and caused hordes of feet to storm their way into the room.

I turned my head and saw three heads: Trent, the lady who introduced herself to me yesterday, and...the fiance?″

I waved with the arm I actually had, not saying a word.

They made the same, slow, awkward wave.

″Good morning?″ I greeted, unsure.

She ran up to me, the one with overalls and silver (?) hair. No, my eyes had to adjust. Not even. Brown...mahogany. That seemed a good descriptor.

″Actually! It's almost evening!″ She corrected, leaning over and excited to see me.

″Hi...you are...?″

″Juniper! I'm Trent's sister. Out of law. Well, we settled out of court!″

I tilted my head. Trent groaned.

″It's a joke...″ he explained.

″Yeah, we're actually related, for real!″

My head bobbed to and fro. Little skittles bouncing around inside, but I couldn't eat them. Causing quite a ruckus.

″You've been sleeping a lot, you're going to feel a little woozy!″ Trent's voice jolted me back to reality.

″I think I lost myself...in the moment...my head feels like spaghetti...″ I mumbled.

The three of them observed me as if I was some kind of new species they discovered. One of them in particular, the first one I was acquainted to, stood behind the brother and sister and seemed to have been studying me with the most intensity.

She was familiar, somewhere in the depths of my memories, but it was all wrong.

Stay away from her. She's danger, my brain told me. I reached far back into my brain, where my memories were just vague enough to conjure something. Not an image, but a name...

″You!″ I looked over at her. ″You're...Et...″

Her eyes widened. ″Oh! Sorry!″ She squeaked. ″Vesuvius. My parents likened me to an active volcano when I was born. I'm not a fan of it, but never thought to change it.″

#happiness overload #writing #stories #fiction #writers on tumblr #scifi #surreal #conspiracy #aliens #time travel #angels #jo-ann #michaels #goodwill #mavis beacon #fma #they live

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