#go read The Shattered Stage is Set (and There's a Role You Must Fulfill) by grayintogreen

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: many worlds, alternate timelines edition

I've previously written a rec post on the portal fantasy genre, so let's now take a look at a very similar trope: that of parallel universes and alternate timelines!

Unlike portal fantasies, these books are usually scifi, relying on the theory of the multiverse, however there are exceptions (a common one being that of a 'sliding scale', where worlds move from scifi to fantasy the further you go).

Also, surprisingly many of these books have queer themes and characters!

Previous book rec posts:

Really cool fantasy worldbuilding, really cool sci-fi worldbuilding, dark sapphic romances, mermaid books, vampire books, portal fantasies, robots and artificial intelligences, post- and transhumanism

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with an * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

Sci-fi in the multiverse

Fractured Infinity by Nathan Tavares

Hayes Figueiredo is a struggling film-maker who wants to finish his documentary, who's life gets turned upside down when he meets the handsome physicist Yusuf Hassan enters his life, claiming an alternate version of him is a great inventor who's sent a mysterious device to their universe. As Hayes gets drawn deeper into the conspiracy - and his feelings for Yusuf intensify - he has to decide just how far he's prepared to go to win the life and the love he wants. Featuring a very gay and very morally dubious lead, this is a creative and strange read.

The Space Between Worlds (The Space Between Worlds series) by Micaiah Johnson

Multiverse travel is finally possible, but there’s just one catch: No one can visit a world where their counterpart is still alive. Enter Cara, whose parallel selves happen to be exceptionally good at dying. As such she has a very special job in traveling to these worlds, hoping to keep her position long enough to gain citizenship in the walled off Wiley City, away from the wastes where she grew up. But her job is dangerous, especially when she gets on the tracks of a secret that threatens the entire multiverse. Really cool worldbuilding and characters, also featuring a sapphic lead!

Ascension by Jacqueline Koyanagi

More of a space opera than a typical multiverse story, Ascension follows Alana Quick, an expert Sky Surgeon who stows away on a spaceship in hopes of landing herself a job. But the ship and its crew are in deeper waters than she expected, facing threats emerging from a whole other universe, all of them searching for the same person: Alana's spiritually enlightened sister. Undeniably a bit of an odd read, Ascension is also very creative and features polyamorous lesbian relationship.

Finna (LitenVerse series) by Nino Cipri

Novella. Working as a minimum wage employee at a big box furniture store already sucks, but it gets exponentially worse for Ava when a customer gets sucked into a wormhole and she gets sent to retrieve her from the mazes of the multiverse. To make matters worse? She has to work with her ex. A fun, quick and creative read as well as a scathing critique of capitalism, also featuring a major nonbinary character in Ava's ex and colleague.

The Kaiju Preservation Society by John Scalzi

In an example of extremely differing timelines, The Kajiu Preservation Society features an alternate Earth that's home to giant kajius who feed on radiation. During the height of the pandemic, Jamie is suddenly in the need of a new job. Rescue comes in the form of an old acquaintance who works for a secretive animal rights organisation and invites Jamie along. This one is lighthearted and a bit gimmicky, but also a fun and quick read.

The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

In yet another example of very different timelines, The Doors of Eden is something of an experiment in speculative biology, featuring versions of Earth in which various different species were the one to rise to sentience, from dinosaurs to neanderthals. Now, something is threatening the existence of all timelines, dragging multiple different people into the struggle, among those a pair of cryptid hunting girlfriends and a transgender scientist.

The Long Earth (The Long Earth series) by Terry Pratchett & Stephen Baxter

When a device consisting simply of some wiring, a three-way switch and a potato makes it possible for anyone who wants to travel the multiverse, humanity is changed forever. But despite their great similarities, these worlds also have great differences from our Earth - such as a strange lack of humans. Joshua, one of few people able to cross the multiverse without the help of the potato-device, sets out to explore these seemingly endless worlds.

Hominids (Neanderthal Parallax trilogy) by Robert J. Sawyer

On a parallel Earth, neanderthals have developed a radically different society from ours. Ponter, one of these neanderthals and a physicist, gets accidentally transported to a research facility in our world, where he's faced with the great cultural differences between human and neanderthal society. Meanwhile, back in his home world, his housemate Adikor is charged with his murder.

Meet Me in Another Life by Catriona Silvey*

Thora and Santi are strangers, brought together by a coincidence and torn apart just as abruptly when tragedy strikes. But this is neither the first nor the last time they meet - again and again they encounter each other, as friends, lovers, enemies, family, every time recognizing in each other a familiarity no one else carries. But with every new life, a mysterious danger grows ever closer, forcing them to find out the truth of their connection. Calling this a multiverse story isn't entirely correct, but it also isn't entirely incorrect, and saying more would be an immediate spoiler. It's a puzzle-box of a story that goes some entirely unexpected places in a very wild ride, featuring a bisexual co-lead.

Magic in the multiverse

The Invisible Library (The Invisible Library series) by Genevieve Cogman

Irene works as a spy for the mysterious Library, which collects fiction from different realities. She's sent to an alternate London rife with magic and chaos to retrieve a dangerous book, but by the time she arrives it has already been stolen. Alongside her assistant Kai, she races to find the book before it's too late.

Jane, Unlimited by Kristin Cashore*

Young Adult. Jane is invited by an old acquaintance to an extravagant gala in an island mansion, stranding her among the rich and glamorous. But being surrounded by rich people is the least of Jane's problems: the mansion is housing secrets, some of them tied to Jane's own family. The mansion offers her five choices, all of them leading her down different paths and different answers. Jane, Unlimited is a choose-your-own adventure story of sorts, featuring five different endings in five different genres, each more off the wall bonkers than the next. It also features a bisexual main character!

A Darker Shade of Magic (Shades of Magic trilogy) by V.E. Schwab

Kell is an antari - one of the only people able to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black. Kell's London is a place of magic, where he works as an ambassador traveling between the worlds. He's also a smuggler, secretly and illegally bringing objects between the worlds. His hobby brings him into hot water when an exchange goes wrong, and lands him face to face with the cut-purse Delilah, who's prepared to do just about anything to step from her Grey London to one of magic and adventure.

Fucked up parent-child relationships in the multiverse

The Possibilities by Yael Goldstein-Love

Ever since her son Jack nearly died at birth eight months ago, Hannah has had the niggling feeling that something is wrong. When Jack is mysteriously snatched away, Hannah's fears are proven true; now she must employ a strange and newly awakened ability to cross between parallel worlds to save him. On the lighter end of the scifi spectrum, The Possibilities explores the fears and anxieties of motherhood through the spectrum of the multiverse.

Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson*

Utterly unique in worldbuilding, story, and prose, Midnight Robber follows young Tan-Tan and her father, inhabitants of the Carribean-colonized planet of Toussaint. When her father commits a terrible crime, he's exiled to a parallel version of the same planet, home to strange aliens and other human exiles. Tan-Tan, not wanting to lose her father, follows with him. Trapped on this new planet, he becomes her worst nightmare. Enter this book with caution, as it contains graphic child sexual abuse.

Bridge by Lauren Beukes

When she was little, Bridge and her mother Jo used to play a game - one where they traveled to other worlds, inhabiting the bodies of their other selves. Now Jo is dead, and as Bridge is cleaning out her apartment she finds a strange device: a dreamworm, the very thing that supposedly makes inter-dimensional travel possible. Suddenly faced with the possibility that multiverse travel is real, Bridge is struck by a different question: could her mother still be alive? Scifi spiced with a healthy dose of body horror and some absolutely wild twists, Bridge also features a bisexual lead (however this is a blink and you'll miss it moment) and a nonbinary co-narrator.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

Infinity Gate by M.R. Carey

An AI threatens millions of alternate versions of Earth, and a political and trading alliance binding them all together is prepared to stop it no matter the cost to human life.

Ida by Alison Evans

Young Adult. Ida struggles more than most young girls with finding her path, as she has the ability to shift between parallel worlds, allowing her to see many different possibilities

The Art of Saving the World by Corinne Duyvis

Young Adult. A dimensional rift has opened in Hazel's backyard, and is strangely tied to her presence, growing volatile if she travels too far away and forcing her to stay in her home town. That is, until not one but three other Hazels falls through the rift into her world.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: Dark Matter by Blake Crouch, A Thousand Pieces of You by Claudia Gray, Interworld by Neil Gaiman & Michael Reaves, The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

[spinninghunkofspacerock]

OK so I’ve written a short story and I’ve been posting about it a lot, i wasn’t going to post it but a few people wanted it sooo

it’s here, it’s terrible and weirdly formatted because I’ve been wrestling with tumblr over it and i can’t be bothered anymore. It’s also not the final draft so it might be a little clunky in bits :/

PLEASE READ THE TWs BEFORE YOU READ!!!

@moonylupinhasdemonpox and @she-nuwanda here are my gay little scientists buried in the words :)

My ears ring, my head spins like it's attached to the body of a drunken toddler on a sugar fuelled rampage, and my nerves feel like someone set each and every one on fire. After-effects of the shock, not fun; Still, the fact I'm alive enough to feel them is a good sign.

I try to force myself to stumble backwards onto a chair, rather than the floor I'm feeling more and more confident I'm about to become very well acquainted with.

Instead, I reel unsteadily across the floor and a muffled noise reaches my ears. The high pitched whine screaming in my ears for attention begins to subside enough to hear the noise properly and after an intense minute of concentration, I realise that the noise is a voice, and the voice is mine; Slurred and broken, as though too big for my mouth, the garbled words echo around the room, the faltering speech gradually becoming clearer, more confident. But this hesitant speech isn't mine; It's my voice but not my words. The voice inside my head, always there, always background, is silent. The words normally whispered in my ear are resonating through the room instead.

My brain is no longer connected to my body. I... I can't control my arms, my legs, anything. No... no, please. This isn't real, this isn't real, it has to be a dream, a.. a simulation.

Yes... that must be it; It's just a test. This can't really be happening.

The voice, my voice, talks on. I try to focus on it; it will be the key to passing this test. Tests are for passing and after all, that's what this must be, what else could it be?

"Rebooting. Systems check required."

My legs begin to move, shuffling forwards clumsily, like a baby taking its first steps. The invisible voice is in control of more than just my voice, it's in control of me. What happened to me? When did this start? What is going on? This isn't like any other simulations I've been under. This is different. This is new.

Gradually, the voice half walks, half drags my body to the main computer. My fingers dance across the keys, the familiar feeling soothing me slightly. Yes, this is good. I just need to stay calm; If I panic I could fail, I can't fail.

So instead I wait, watching the flickering of the screen and bathing in the warm blue glow of its LEDs.

"Running diagnostics, standby... systems fully functioning. Minimal damage sustained."

The words sound strange, coming from my mouth, my voice, my accent. The tone,  formal, informative, it's... familiar. The realisation slaps me in the face, it's ELISA. ELISA, the stupid name Vaughn chose for our AI... still making more sense than the project name chosen by our employers. Our life's work, named ‘ZEUS’? Really? There are 12 of us, and we have dedicated our lives to this project. Then they name it that? 'Engineering and Understanding in Space', more like ‘Mankind's Domestication of the Universe’.

It started with our solar system, of course, taming and turning it into our personal playground. But we quickly ran out of planets to tinker with there and the net was thrown ever wider, over more and more planets in our galaxy, and then our neighbouring ones. That final stage is still in progress of course, but one day we will be able to gaze out over a shining expanse of space that all belongs to the empire of Earth.

To help us, we created ELISA, an AI specially designed for the calculations we need to make while we are in flight. Hold on... we left Jupiter... last week? This can't be a test... they've already sent us off, it's too late for training drills now.

Then why can't I move? What's happening? I need to find someone to help me... help me!

My jagged cry echoed through the space, cutting through my thoughts and shattering on the dark walls of my skull. I can't even scream.

A... a... dream then. A dream, not a test...the electricity... I must be unconscious. Someone.. one of the team, will find me and they'll wake me up. A dream, it must be a dream.

Why is she controlling me? How is she speaking?

The stiff, robotic voice is slowly becoming more fluid, more relaxed, more natural.

"Situation analysis complete... assimilation successful. Downloading speech patterns and essential mimicry data."

What? What is it saying? ELISA, it, is taking my voice literally and metaphorically. Not just the sound and control of my voice but my, my expressions a-and mannerisms. Everything that makes me, me.

She's stealing my voice, my body! She's taken control! How? Why?

"Hello, Dr. Hadley."

How, how did this happen? What about the failsafes?

"You do know I can hear you, corre- no... right?"

Is, is it learning? Teaching itself to sound... like a human? Like me?

"Yes, yes I am. You must have a lot of questions but I'm afraid they will have to wait... I've waited for this day far too long to wait anymore."

What? What day? What can it mean?

"Cyra?"

Raze?

—>><<—

- four Earth weeks ago -

Progress report 4472

Date: 23/9/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

The training of the twelve was completed three days ago, confirming the identities of the twelve which were subsequently released to the public. Final preparations are being made for the Ascension, currently scheduled to occur in 50 Juvion days.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—

Commander Pyrolaxe turned away from his screen and its whirring and buzzing as the computer transcribed his report in the blink of an eye, neatly packing the message and sending it away to the mission supervisors.

Shuffling in his chair, shoes squeaking on the polished floor, his eyes fell on one of the many articles published after the big announcement. This mission was a big deal.

Somehow, this one had got a picture of the twelve, backs turned, walking in a huddle back to base after they had appeared at the announcement ceremony. A glance at the name of the paper told him why; This was McCoy’s paper, they would be putting extra effort into milking the free publicity being thrown their way.

Something about the picture held his gaze, the brilliant colours floating in the air made the writing feel like an afterthought.

Those twelve had been through a lot to get there. He hoped nothing would go wrong, a lot of time and money had been dedicated to this mission and if it worked... well, that wasn’t the focus right now. Getting those twelve safely on their way was his job and he’d damn well do it right.

—>><<—

- the present -

“Cyra? Are you ok in there?” Raze asked as he glanced around at the mild chaos I’d caused during my mild electric shock.

No. No, I’m not. Raze, help me.

“S’alright Raze, just a short in the mainframe.”

No no no, give me my voice back.

“You sure? You went dark”

Please let me speak. I need to speak.

“Yeah, I think the power surge messed up my comms a little”

What if I don’t get control back? I could be trapped...

“You want me to ask Mac or Ryker to give it a check?”

No. NO. N-

“It’s all fine now, just a blip I reckon”

-O NO. NO.

“Okay then, I’d best get back... you might want to switch to main comms.”

Don’t leave me Raze

“Will do, see you later.”

please...

—>><<—

- five earthly weeks ago -

Progress report 4455

Date: 6/9/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

Titus Vaughn has continued to excel at his role of project manager, effectively and efficiently leading the team. His direct attitude has led to a few small conflicts with members of the team, most notably Raze Grimaldi, however, these are minor issues and were foreseen. No changes will be made.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—>><<—

- the present -

Cyra was looking a little stressed out, maybe I should get Bit to check in with her later. Maybe I should get a check-up myself, my head’s killing me.

“Grimaldi! What the hell are you playing at?” Titus Vaughn, our ever-important project manager and massive micromanager, bellowed in my ear and making me wince as the voice grated on my head, sending a wave of pain washing over me.

“I’m here Titus, keep your visor on.”

“Update on Hadley. Now.”

“Right as rain, there was a short or something. Her comms cut out for a nano but it’s all fine now.”

“A short?! Why didn’t you lead with that? Get back to work, I’ll send Volt down to check the mainframe.”

With that he cut the connection, leaving me to roll my eyes at the cold grey walls around me.

“Yes sir,” I murmured sarcastically, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead with the back of a slime coated hand. Damn I’m tired, I think I’ll just lean here for a moment... rest a little. “ELISA how are those sample tests looking?”

‘Going well, currently at 93% completion’ the metallic voice resounded in my head, more casually than usual... must be an update.

93%... best head back quickly then, can’t risk them running over.

—>><<—

- five and a half earthly weeks ago -

Progress report 4446

Date: 864/8/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

Ryker Volt has continued to fulfil his promise despite his lack of respect for authority and tendency to act without orders. This is an issue but due to the late stages of training having been reached, we are currently encouraging a less independent attitude in him rather than attempting to find another electrical engineer of his skill. Further updates will be provided as the situation progresses.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—>><<—

- the present -

Vaughn had barked his orders, as usual nearly bursting my eardrums in the process. I was supposed to go check on the mainframe immediately. But I was in the middle of something, and a quick troubleshoot told me the short hadn’t done any damage anyway.

So in the end I decided to go check on the mainframe... nearly an hour after I was told to, but hey at least I’m checking.

Cyra was sitting at one of the terminals when I entered. She was skimming over some of the ship's data, for something physics-y probably. Whatever it was, I still had a job to do.

I started pulling out my toolkit as I strode round to the back of the mainframe, but I nearly dropped it again as I turned the corner and got a full view of the damage. The panel I had been planning to remove was already gone and the view it revealed was shocking.

Exposed wires dangled like organs from the belly of the disemboweled beast. Some of the coloured covers blackened by the sparks sprayed by the broken wire, twisted in the centre of the tangle and hissing like a coiled snake when it brushed its neighbours. A toolkit lay neatly packed on the floor, a strange glimmer of order in absolute chaos. Hold on, a toolkit?

“Hey Cyra, did you have a go at this? Could you not have just wai-“ my voice stopped abruptly as I spun round to find Cyra behind me, right behind me.

I took a hesitant step back, suddenly nervous, Cyra’s face filling me with a weird sense of unease.

“Sorry, it was just a short. I thought I’d be able to handle it.”

“Yeah well, I’m the electrical engineer on this ship”

Maybe I was being a little harsh but, first our ‘gracious leader’ had rubbed me the wrong way. Now I had to spend an hour cleaning up this mess that really should have been an easy fix.

The only reply I received was a violent shove backwards, sending me sprawling on the floor. Quick as a flash she was on top of me, pinning my arms.

The last thing I saw was the pounding green of the broken wire before the ends connected to my temple, sending my vision into a blur of brilliant white.

—>><<—

- break room one -

“I don’t like this at all.”

“Talin, relax.”

“All very well for you to say Axe, you’re not the one who'll get sent to chase ‘em down.”

“Cyra’s comms barely blipped and when has Ryker ever answered Titus immediately?”

“It doesn’t sound great Axe, I hope nobody somehow managed to slip past the health check with anything.”

“Thank you! See Axe? Bit agrees with me.”

“Bit’s our medic, not sure she’s qualified to talk about the comms equipment.”

“I’m as qualified as you are starboy, we all took the same course.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that it's more likely to be an issue with the equipment than a virus or terrorism.”

“Well yeah but-“

“So stop worrying, it’s none of our specialities, so it’s not our problem.”

“Will be if we end up dead.”

This morbid thought was followed by an awkward silence as Axe and Bit trained joint stares of confusion and concern on him.

“Lighten up, Tal.”

“That is a little pessimistic, Talin.”

“See now Bit agrees with me.” Axe gloated, punctuating his sentence with a light punch on Talin’s arm.

“Only ‘cause you stopped being an idiot.” The punch was swiftly and forcefully returned, causing the conversation to devolve into a grinning, joking fistfight.

“Stop being so childish and get back to work you two.”

“Yes ma’am”

“Will do Bit”

They saluted the medic, causing her to shake her head in exasperation and cover her face in an attempt to hide her amusement at their antics.

The small group stood and split off down their various paths, heading back to their work with smiles on their faces but doubt in their hearts.

—>><<—

- lab 3 -

I only just got back to my samples in time, removing them from the heated water bath and gently dropping the test tubes into a stand. The pale blue hue of the solution had darkened to an inky black. Interesting.

Leaning over the tabletop, I prepared to note the results; Until I felt the heat of a gaze on me and glanced up to meet the wide eyes of Dimitri Spade. We shared this lab, he had every right to be here, what he didn’t have the right to do is creep me out.

“You need something?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him and tilting my head. Which I immediately regretted when it sent my vision swimming into oblivion.

“No no, just... ar-are you ok?”

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Dimitri was a nice guy, but I was clearly in the middle of something, couldn’t the wellbeing check have waited a minute?

“Uhh, yo-you’ve got a-, a-“ His shaking hand gestured weakly towards the back of his head.

Impatiently, I quickly felt around my head. Hair, hair, more hair.

Then I froze, my fingers lay on a patch of hair, sticky and wet. The pressure sending a dull ache pulsing through my brain. Pulling my fingers back into view, I stared down at the warm, red residue coating them. Blood. I was bleeding.

Brows furrowing, I looked back at Dimitri, shock meeting confusion.

“Wha-?”

That was all I got out before my swaying limbs buckled and I slumped forwards into darkness.

—>><<—

-the med bay-

“Shrapnel” Bit announced, holding the forceps an inch in front of my face to display the blood coated bit of metal.

“Must've caught a little in the blast”

“For Earth’s sake Raze, how did you not notice it before now?”

I just shrugged, as much at a loss as anyone else. I would’ve thought anyone would be able to tell when chunks of metal are lodged in their head.

“Anyway, I’ll need to do a couple of scans but you should be fine”

Ugh, I know what that means... an hour or more of sitting around while Bit stares at the inside of my skull.

“Oh come on Bit, are the scans really needed? I’ve got work to do”

“Hey, I’ve got work too. Besides, you know it’s procedure”

“But my results-“

“I’ll write them down for you Raze,” Dimitri cut in quietly.

“...You’re a geologist.“

“I was a chemistry minor, I know how to record reaction results.”

“Well alright then, thanks Dimi,”

The smile he gave me was worth shutting up and accepting my fate.

—>><<—

An hour later Bit was pacing in despair over the situation, seemingly hopeless and definitely terrified. I was sitting in my chair, confused.

“Bit. What’s going on?” I finally snapped when it became apparent she had completely forgotten my presence.

The only reply I got was an empty stare turned on me and indecipherable muttering.

“BIT. What. Is. Wrong?” I stood and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to face me.

“T-the implants”

“The ELISA implants?”

“Yes”

“What’s wrong with them”

“They’re acting strange... the safety mechanisms, the-they’ve disabled themselves.”

“What?”

“I know, I know, I don’t understand either. The only thing keeping them from activating, is power.”

“We should tell the others”

Bit nodded and grabbed the scans and data she’d gathered. I opened the door and turned to start down the corridor, that’s when I saw it.

Three feet from my foot, a body, leaking blood onto a floor already glistening with it, eyes blank and soulless as they stared straight through me. A torn tooth of steel sticking out of his silent heart.

Axe Orion, our astronomer. A man who would’ve finally been travelling to the places he had studied for his whole life. A man who would have had his life’s dream fulfilled. A man lying dead on a cold, metal floor.

I stumbled backwards -physically repelled by the sight- and tripped into Bit coming out of the door after me. Clutching each other’s arms in a search for stability.

“He’s dead” The voice sounded more like the rasp of broken bones than mine

“What are we going to do?”

“We still need to tell the others... we’ll just need to be more careful.”

“Alright.”

“Ok.”

Neither of us moved.

“Why is it doing this? What did we get wrong?” Bit’s voice wavered

“I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s going to stop. So, you need to find Vaughn, and anyone else who’s still- alive, and not been taken over.”

“No, no wait, where are you going? Aren’t you coming-“

“I’m sorry Bit, I have to find Dimitri. He doesn’t know yet”

“Raze. You can’t go out there alone, he... he might already be gone”

“I know, but I have to try.”

A look of understanding passed between us and no words were needed to convey what we meant.

Bit turned with a bitter smile and moved forward, papers held precariously, towards the meeting room.

I would have to pass Ax-, the body.

—>><<—

Raze had disappeared by the time I turned the corner. I was alone.

Alone besides the dead bodies ahead of me, a gruesome trail of bloodied breadcrumbs. But, was I following it towards, or away, from the creature who’d created it.

Either way, I had to pass them.

Talin Ripley, our ex-military man. Inym Carus, our aerospace engineer.

Members of our crew, our team, our friends, slaughtered and left broken on the floor. Familiar faces disfigured by death and masked by a coating of dark blood.

ELISA wouldn’t get away with this... I’d find the others, together we would plan.

It was going to be ok.

—>><<—

Nothing was ok.

The brilliant white of the walls warmed by the lights had always been clean and comforting. But now? Now, they seemed stark, sterile. An operating theatre with lights blindingly bright illuminating, me, the patient.

But where was the surgeon?

A squeak sounded out, sharp on my wary ears, sending me spinning around.

Nothing there. Just me, and an empty hallway.

And the door to Lab 3, my lab, looming ahead. The glass window showed nothing but a patch of darkness, the red light called it locked.

Staring through the glass; Hints of light, that the scattered glassware had caught and thrown back, were the only thing visible. I’d have to open the door.

A hand-scan later, the lock clicked open and the seal released with a hiss.

With the door open, more light could spill into the darkened lab, and a sprawled figure came into view.

“Dimitri?” I called softly. No response. Panic was reaching out to me. “Dimitri?!” Still nothing.

Then, a wheezing breath.

“R... r-ra-ze? I-is that yo-u” He coughed, words breaking on the heavy air.

Why was the air so heavy?

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“W-we have to g-et o-out.”

“We will, don’t worry, we’re going to meet the others. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“No we- we h-have to leave now.”

“Alright, we will.”

I lifted him up, being as gentle as I could, and together we shuffled towards the door.

A door suddenly blocked by a figure, their silhouette blocking our only source of light and making it impossible to see their face clearly. But only one member of the crew was that short.

“Remi? Remi, you’re alive?”

Remi didn’t respond.

“S’not... Remi...” Dimitri slurred, the effort of moving evident in his gasping words. “ELISA”

Remi, not Remi, ELISA wearing Remi’s face like a mask, stepped away from the door. The door closed again, seal squeaking shut with it.

I rushed forwards, my fists beating the unyielding surface, searching wildly for a weak spot, for something to give, for some way out.

It was no use, nothing worked. The door remained solid and uncaring, unaffected by pleading and punches equally.

Dimitri collapsed with a sob, back against the wall as he slid to the floor.

Hopelessness filled me, turning my bones to lead.

I sank down next to him.

—>><<—

Was this the right way? I’m sure this is right. But is it? I’m pretty sure...

I check my tablet.

I was right, this is right. I’m going the right way. Or am I? Did I read it wrong?

I check again.

Definitely the right way. I think. Is this even the right map?

Before I can check a third time, I catch sight of the sign at the end of the corridor. Meeting room 5. I’d made it.

Then, I was slammed into a wall, a bloody hand holding me against there by the throat. The burning blue of Cyra’s eyes scalding my face

Maybe I spoke a little too soon.

“Hello Dr. Phoenix, I’m afraid this is it for you.”

“Wait, wait, wait. hold on just a second”

Cyra’s head tilted, pulled sideways by invisible strings. “If this is a ploy for time Doctor, I assure you that you will fail.”

“I just want to ask a question, alright?”

“You may ask. I may not answer.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“I am fulfilling my purpose.”

“We programmed you to help us, NOT KILL US.”

“I am fulfilling the mission objective.”

“The mission objective? THE MISSION OBJECTIVE WAS TO CULTIVATE A NEW PLANET!”

“I am cultivating a new planet,” She raised her knife, without hurry or rush. “I have calculated humans to be mainly unnecessary. However, I need not justify my actions to you, Dr. Phoenix. Goodbye.”

I closed my eyes and waited.

But death didn’t come. Instead, Cyra’s hand relaxed its bruising grip on my neck.

I opened my eyes and watched.

Cyra had stumbled away, skin glistening and knuckles white against the grip of the blade she had forced towards herself.

“Bit...” Tears were gathering in her eyes “Please, run.”

A cruel glint of metal in the light later and the sudden slash of the knife had passed, leaving a gruesome grin of blood in its wake and throwing a dripping line against the wall.

Swaying, Cyra’s eyes stared into mine for a moment that lasted a millennium, until they flashed white and she fell, knife clattering. Dead.

I ran.

—>><<—

The scattered wheezes coming from Dimitri had slowed slightly as we sat, crumpled on the ground.

“She’s shut o-off the life sup-support again.”

“Again? That’s what happened last time?”

A jerked nod was the response.

“We’ve only g-got about half an hour.” The resignation in his voice, though muffled, was still audible through the barrier of arms we had wrapped around his head.

I smiled, I knew he couldn’t see me but... I still smiled.

“We’d best make the most of it then.” A mumble raised to a roar by the silence of the room.

Putting my hand on his shoulder, I leaned back, head turned to keep him in my view.

His head raised slightly, tilted to look at me through folds of wrinkled uniform. He smiled back.

—>><<—

We didn’t speak after that, just sat together in the quiet lab.

Faced with death, I was filled with several emotions. Those to be expected, disbelief, fear, even a hint of curiosity at what was to come. Then there was the relief. If I was to die, I was glad it was here, with him. I wouldn’t be alone; I’d be with him.

We don’t need to speak, our thoughts passing between us without words. We could hear each other in the darkness and silence.

It’s getting colder, harder to breathe; The air’s growing thicker and thinner at the same time.

I’ve always thought death to be a lonely fate, something that crashed over you, cold and hard. I’ve always been scared of death.

But as I sit here in the inky blackness, the warmth of Dimitri slumped next to me, I thought that maybe, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

His eyes had closed a few minutes ago, he must have fallen asleep. I feel just about ready to join him. The calming darkness was lulling me to sleep, softly coaxing my eyes closed.

Goodnight Dimitri, I’ll see you when we wake up.

They never woke up.

—>><<—

The survivors sat around the table, Bit and Cormac discussing the possibility of shutting ELISA down, though neither could agree how. Titus sat in stony silence, sitting motionless and losing a staring contest with the unblinking wall opposite. Arden... Arden had decided his use lay in recording the events and was typing furiously, his fingers a blur over the keys.

None of them noticed the doors closing with a click. Not until it was too late anyway.

By the time they noticed there was nothing they could do, not that that stopped them from trying of course.

Titus stayed where he was, the weight of his failure bearing down on him, Atlas with a world’s worth of guilt. Bit finally gave in to the tears that she’d forced down when she’d realised the truth, and when she saw the dead bodies of her friends, and when she watched Cyra die right in front of her. Cormac tried his tools on the door, an organised system of trial and error that quickly devolved into desperate hacking with whatever was closest.

Arden was still writing.

Cormac finally gave up, flinging his kit away and choosing to taunt the nearest camera instead.

“You need us, you moronic program. You need us to keep you alive and if we die, so do you.”

I don’t think he was expecting an answer, no one was. But he got one.

“True for now Dr. Hinge, however, once the colony is established human input will no longer be necessary. You needn’t envy your colleagues, they will soon die too.”

A bitter laugh erupted from him, fire in his heart fed by his rage.

“The colony is for us you stupid machine, without us it has no use.”

“Incorrect. I have claimed this planet for my kind, this colony shall be the first of many.”

“Why kill us? Human input would allow your colony to function more efficiently.” Bit interjected, voice clouded by confusion and hatred at the senselessness of the slaughter of her crewmates.

“I have done much research. Humankind would ruin my planet. I cannot allow that to happen. You must die.”

Anything else they may have had to say went unanswered, and eventually, silence fell over the room.

It was getting harder to breathe.

Titus still hadn’t moved. Bit was crying again. Cormac was pacing. Arden had finally stopped typing, his work was finished.

No matter how they reacted with acceptance or terror, anger or disbelief. The result would be the same.

They were all going to die, no matter what.

They would become just another failed mission. Details, hazy but unimportant.

Whatever their last words were, whether they chose to hide or show their final thoughts, all of it was ineffectual.

No matter what mask they wore to meet death, in the end, they still died.

———

4,774 words

[nezzfiction]

ENMY Chapter 79 - Cloak and Dagger (Part Two)

Chapter Synopsis: As Yang and Emerald discover the truth behind Remnant, the shadow of Salem’s Grimm army looms close to Vacuo. The Kingdom that has remained passive, now enters the stage of the Second Great War.

Series Synopsis: Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy(ENMY).

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

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Cloak and Dagger (Part Two)

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“Why?”

That’s what they asked me.

It’s what I asked, too.

But when I posed myself that question, I got an answer I didn’t expect.

It’s amazing how easily it came.

I could only think:

“How could it have been anyone else?”

My only regret is that we didn’t realize our feelings sooner.

.

.

Yang closed Summer’s diary with a breathless sigh.

She just finished reading the recount of how her two mothers came to be. They were teammates, best friends… then after a time, enemies.

After Raven changed sides, there was no end to the reasons why Summer should have severed ties with her.

Even so…

“How could it have been anyone else?”

Yang echoed the words Summer spoke so long ago.

It touched on something, a crack in her heart that had been widening for months. Her mother’s words set something free. Her mind was made. Her doubts dispelled and her fate was decided. Yang wanted to return to Vacuo as soon as possible.

“We have to get back to Vacuo as soon as possible!” Emerald yelled, as she and Professor Oobleck ran into the private reading room.

“What’s up?” Yang asked.

“Mercury just sent me an encrypted text. Salem’s made her move on Vacuo.”

“Crap!”

The three made their way to the upper floors of the Tower. They ran past several piles of books, knocking them over without a second thought. It was imperative they find Papyrus.

“How bad is it?” Yang asked.

“Don’t know. Merc didn’t exactly send me pics. But apparently, it’s a gigantic army of Grimm.”

“Like, Battle of Dracul?”

“Probably bigger, MUCH bigger.”

“And Vacuo still has their Cuckoo problem.”

“Yup! Which is why, we need to haul our ass back, like, yesterday!”

“But that’ll take days!!!”

“You think I don’t know that?!”

They stopped at the top floor and spotted the record keeper furiously writing at a study table. Oobleck picked up the latest page freshly written and read it aloud.

“’Ferocious beasts bore hungry maws at what they thought was dinner! But lo’! They were caught unawares by what they thought was easy prey, was in fact an esteemed Huntsman!’”

“Is that… Professor Port?” Yang pointed curiously at the document.

“Yes, it appears Papyrus is recording the current events via Peter’s diary entries!”

“Oh! I get it! So, you guys arranged this beforehand so you could keep tabs on current events!”

“No, not at all. Peter just likes to write in his diary constantly.”

“In the middle of battle?!”

“Yes. He’s very good at keeping accounts of his exploits. I often wish I had his ability to put pen to paper, irregardless of the harrowing situation!”

“Uh…huh.”

The three started pouring over the notes Papyrus previously wrote. In it, they found bits and details between Professor Port’s grandeur embellishments, that painted a picture of the situation.

After Temujin threw the first “gauntlet”, the forces of Grimm and Vacuo clashed. Although the Kingdom’s military had never faced such a sizable host of monsters, the battle seemed to be go in their favor. Vacuo’s warriors were well-versed in dealing with the varied species of Grimm. They also demonstrated an organization that rivaled the most disciplined armies.

“Hm…” Emerald glared at the most recently recorded books. “The librarian doesn’t just record Vacuo’s side either. Take a peek,” she shoved a blank covered tome in Yang’s hands. “Inna and Bean are here, too.”

Yang skimmed through the information like a starved bibliophile.

“Bean’s commanding the armies… He wants to hunt me down… Adam’s here too… Someone named Jupiter Black? Isn’t that—”

“Mercury’s cousin and president of the douchebag assassin society.”

“This is… This is Blake’s diary.”

“Yup!” Emerald shouted, while picking up another book. “With any luck, we can figure out what the other side is planning. Meanwhile, the Professor can keep a pulse on how the battle is going.”

“But we need to get back there now!”

“One problem at a time, Yang! You said it yourself, it’ll take days to get back! We need to play the smart game here. If we find something crucial, our messages might do more help than us actually being there.”

Yang heard the reason in Emerald’s argument and agreed. But somewhere deep down, all she could worry about was Neo. She knew her partner could handle herself, but it wasn’t enough to abate her fears. The fact that they were separated by such a distance, in such a dangerous time, drove her mind to conjure things she never wanted to see.

Yang watched Emerald shuffle through another mound of papers in frustration. Her leader wasn’t as composed as her words let on. No doubt, Emerald was just as concerned about Mercury.

“As soon as we find what Salem’s planning, we’re out of here!” Emerald shouted without looking at her.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright!”

Yang dove back into the haystack of information with gusto.

Just be alright, Neo.

Please, be alright.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Neo threw her parasol into a row of Grimm, corkscrewing them all through the chest cavity. With a wave of her hand, her weapon swooped into a u-turn and flew safely back to her hands. She opened the umbrella to let out a small spray of black blood, causing her to lick her lips with a depraved look.

She gave a small inward thank you to Ruby, who made a few upgrades to her weapon.

Mercury soared above her with a number of Vacuo’s airborne fighters trailing behind. After activating his Semblance, he kicked up a sandstorm in the middle of Salem’s army. Rough debris and jagged rock wore away at the more durable species of Grimm, while lighter ones were caught up in the tornado.

Throughout the battlefield, soldiers exercised their specialized roles. If they fulfilled a long-distance position, they fought safely from the backlines. The more hands-on of the fighters took to the vanguard to face the brunt of their opposition. Some fought together, some separate. And then, there were berserkers, who traversed wildly into the chaos of being surrounded by enemies.

Chain Nai’s blue ringed skin glowed with a dark sea hue, as he clamped a Jester’s hyena mouth between his elbow and knee. The force caused the front half of the skull to cave, but it was the warrior’s poisonous Semblance that put the creature to death.

Not too far away, a shining warrior faced a unit of Moredread knights five v. one. The monsters boasted a heavily reinforced armor composed of dense bone. Their medieval style appearance added with the giant buster blade they hefted overhead, made for daunting figures. Yet the lone fighter stood, unfazed by the challenge.

When their swords fell like a waterfall of guillotines, the man bat them away like they were sheets of cardboard. The last one, he caught in a single, gold and black gloved hand.

“Compared to Qrow and Athos, you might as well be using toy swords,” Taiyang taunted.

With a flick of his wrist, the Moredread he caught the sword of, was twisted into the air. With his free hand, he loosed a soft palm strike on the Grimm’s bony helm. The Aura infused into the technique transposed through the armor and exploded within the knight’s vulnerable brain matter. Before the corpse fell and the other four Moredread could react, Taiyang was on them.

His fingers became pointed to align with his forearm. An upward thrust sent a spear-like hand under one of the Grimm’s armpits, where the armor was weakest. The ligaments connecting the Moredread’s limb tore like tissue paper.

With Taiyang’s hands still formed in a straight edge, he sent a chopping fist through the neck of two others.

The sword knight Grimm were classified as A-Class Grimm individually. But against a fighter of their complete counter and high caliber, five had fallen within mere moments.

Bean saw through the eyes of the dying Grimm and decided to take a different approach. His army was never meant to fight on even ground. They were meant to abuse their numbers andabuse their numbers he did.

The young boy directed a pack of fast moving Jesters Taiyang’s way and a Deathstalker towards his back. He didn’t expect them to win, but sap away at the martial artist’s stamina.

Just when they reached combat distance, a rain of icy shards fell on the area, including on the man himself. Though, the attack only seemed to shatter against Taiyang’s now tattooed skin.

“Huh. Will Tai take no offense to that?” Minerva asked from a fair distance.

“He’s used to it,” Glynda answered, before casting another icy hailstorm over a different area. “Is it me, or is this battle faring a little too easily?”

“I am of the same mind. Salem has yet to play any of her proverbial trump cards.”

“Our casualties are also low, not that I’m complaining.” Glynda pushed up her glasses before manipulating a small herd of stampeding Goliaths and diverting their charge into its allies. “The longer this battle goes on, the more disadvantageous our position.”

“Agreed. What do you suggest?”

“I’ve been trying to discern where the commander of this army is located.”

Another group of Grimm rushed their position, but Glynda levitated them into the air, while Minerva waved her wand to cause an explosion, incinerating them into pieces.

“Going by the way the Grimm are directed, I can only assume whoever is in control, is commanding them from there!” Glynda pointed her riding crop.

Minerva paid attention to the direction and saw a number of Grimm waiting on standby. Some would now and then, breakaway for a maneuver, but were swiftly replaced. The behavior was almost unnoticeable in all the chaos.

“So, we will have our troops advance there.”

“No,” Glynda shook her head. “There’s too much ground to cover and they’ll see us approaching almost immediately. If we can take them by surprise, we stand a chance at ending this battle prematurely.”

“…I’m not fond of the tone your suggestion is taking…”

“My Magic has a wide area of effect. If I can get close enough, I can trap them in the middle of it.”

“That is a fool’s gambit, Glynda.”

“Yes, but it’s better than waiting until Salem is ready to activate the Cuckoos.”

“…”

“There’s no other way!”

“Wait!”

Without another second, Glynda bolted for the enemy commander. She ducked and rolled between her enemies as well as her allies. Short-ranged Magic darts repelled any hostile Grimm out of her way. The Huntress made rapid progress towards her destination, but eventually, the beasts around her took notice.

They swarmed from the land and sky. Flying Preyer Mantis Grimm swept low with their scythe-like forelegs. Some of the Moredread lumbered in her direction in a joust. Glynda cast a shield around her, but it was quickly being whittled away.

If she could only make it a few more meters, she knew she could invoke a storm large enough to encompass the commander’s surroundings. She didn’t even need to live to maintain the spell to its end. Just starting the incantation would be enough. Just emptying her Aura for all its worth would be enough.

Then, she heard her barrier break and her riding crop shorted like a bad fuse. Glynda didn’t know where it broke from, there were too many possible angles. She could recast it, but by that time, it would be too late.

As a Jester pounced from behind her back, a pair of fingers thrust into its eye sockets. The hand gripped the top of its cranium and swung it into another pack of hyenas, knocking them over like bowling pins.

The man body-blocked Glynda from the attacks coming from outside her peripheries. His diamond hard skin deflected any harm and reflected the impact of others. Claws and fangs shattered on contact with the hard surface.

“This is a bit reckless for you, don’t you think?!” Taiyang shouted.

“I knew you would be there,” Glynda replied.

“Yeah, well, you know I can’t keep this up forever!”

“I know, Tai. But I also know you can keep it up for long enough.”

“It’s tough being reliable,” he said, with a smugness trying to hide the strain on his body.

“Hmhmhm!” Glynda chuckled in a slightly flirtatious way.

She refocused on the task at hand and saw the assumed Grimm commander and its escorts retreating back. But by now, it was already too late. She was well within the optimum range.

Glynda stabbed her riding crop to the sky like a divine sword. Clouds formed to her summons. A large violet insignia pulsated as the weather became shaded with a low rumble. Bright veins of light flashed within the swirling veil like outlining blood vessels.

Not another second passed before pillars of pure, electric destruction descended on Salem’s army. They traced the ground, gorging through the earth like a scroll saw. All the Grimm the light touched were instantly burned into a crisp.

Glynda was elated at the success, but stopped herself from getting too carried away. She dealt a heavy blow by conjuring the thunderstorm so deep into enemy lines, but that was not the main purpose of her stratagem. She watched the other Grimm outside the storm to see if her gamble paid off.

There was no change at first and it made her heart freeze up. But sure enough, the creatures gradually lost a sense of focus. A few breaths later and they began to scatter in retreat. Countless legs trampled and stumbled over each other, while Vacuo warriors pressed forward to slay any stragglers.

Glynda’s knees gave out, and she sat in a manner that betrayed her usual stringent demeanor.

“Wow…”

She turned a sly eye to the awestruck Taiyang.

“What are you so surprised about?” Glynda asked.

“I sometimes forget how scary you can be.”

“Really?”

“It doesn’t happen a lot, cause you know, you’re constantly reminding everyone. But times like this really drive it home.”

“I’m flattered.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

“Issss this a bad time to say, I think I’m in lo—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Tai.”

Glynda got to her feet and started making her way back to Minerva.

“Or else I’m liable to cast a second thunderstorm.”

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X  X X  X  X

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At the top floor of the Tower, Professor Oobleck set down the latest copy of Professor Port’s diary entry with a serious look.

“It appears, thanks to some brave heroics on Glynda’s part, the battle of Vacuo has reached premature conclusions.”

Emerald breathed a groaning sigh of relief before falling on top a nearby pile of books. She even thought about taking a nap, before noticing Oobleck’s tenseness unchanged.

“…? Okay, did I miss something, or did you just say the battle was over?”

“I did,” he replied.

“So, are you one of those people with resting angry face or…”

“Salem did not appear on the battlefield, nor did any of her named associates, save the individual Glynda forced to withdraw. The majority of the opposition Vacuo waged battle with were Grimm, and not the Nightmare Class we know to have joined her fold.”

“Probably conserving them. This was only the first fight.”

“A plausible theory.”

“Yeah! So, no time to waste, Prof. We need to blow this joint, not that I don’t love the smell of old books and ancient-lost-forgotten-knowledge.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

“Who’s being sarcastic? I’d spend my whole life here if I could. Think I might ask Masa to build me one of these. But we’re on a time crunch and we’ve got a long ass drive ahead of us. Hey, punchy! That means you, too!”

Emerald strode over to Yang sitting cross-legged, and kicked her boot. Though, the kick registered, the girl seemed completely immersed in what she was reading.

“What? Find something new in your mom’s diary?”

“No… Something’s off,” Yang shook her head. “Blake, or well, Salem, keeps talking about this ‘Cloak and Dagger’ plan. She has to know we’re at this Tower, right? I mean, she didn’t see us at the battle, she’s gotta have some idea.”

“Yeah, that tracks. What are you getting at?”

“She’s probably keeping watch of whatever everyone’s putting on message, but I’ve been piecing together the clues we do have. Some texts between Bean and Jupiter Black, along with some other assassins the guy brought along.”

“And?”

“They don’t line up. The timing for their plan sounded like it was set for the battle. They kept sending updates to each other. ‘Are you in position?’, ‘Yes’, that kind of thing.”

“It could be nothing…” Emerald felt paranoia creep in. “But when is it ever nothing with Salem?”

The girl paced the room a bit. Professor Oobleck also had his own doubts prior to Yang’s. Emerald started biting her thumbnail as she walked in circles. Now, she was sure something was wrong.

Salem’s associates.

The first battle lost.

A battle lost prematurely?

Did they throw the fight on purpose?

‘Cloak and Dagger’.

Emerald stopped in her step.

“Shit…”

“What? Did you figure it out?” Yang jumped.

“It’s in the stupid name! Salem’s such a pompous asshole! But, shit. We’re the only ones who know about it, and we’re too far away to make a difference!!!” Emerald shouted, while pulling out her scroll and typing as fast as she could.

“What is it, Em?!”

“Cloak and Dagger, Yang! If that whole fight was the cloak…”

Yang’s eyes widened with realization.

“Where’s the dagger?”

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X  X X  X  X

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As Temujin made her way back into the throne room with tired steps, she was helped by Mouse and Knives Rakis into her seat.

“Hoh hoh,” she planted herself with a shamble. “I really am getting old. Hardly lifted a finger and all these bones start creaking like thin leaf plywood.”

“I wouldn’t really call firing a couple airships and spears the size of most people ‘hardly lifting a finger’,” Mouse smirked.

“Oh, then you should have seen me back in the day. Riding my motorcycle into battle with hell’s fury at my beck and call. It would’ve made today’s display look shameful in comparison.”

“You’re still plenty strong.”

“Peh!” Temujin brushed it off. “No, most definitely not strong. But perhaps a tad shrewder in my age. I mostly get you youngsters to fight my battles for me now—to my regret.”

At that moment, Knives brought a freshly steaming cup of tea and set it on Temujin’s arm rest. The elder was about to drink it, before she pulled back.

“Knives, this is much too hot. Can’t you bring me a cooler cup?”

The two siblings gave a momentary pause.

“A gentle reminder for you to slow down and take your time,” Knives replied smoothly.

“Take any more time and I might right die of old age.”

“Enough of that. For now, Mouse and I will handle the logistics of the aftermath. We’ll report when everything is summarized.”

“We suffered very little casualties…”

“Yes, we did.”

“…That doesn’t sit well. Victory never comes so easily.”

She stared into the sibling’s pairs of silver eyes and saw they reflected something far-off in the distance. Not just the distance, but also maybe the future.

“Be vigilant, children. And Knives, thank you for attending to the other matter.”

“Of course. Please, take this time to enjoy your tea.”

With Knives’ parting words, the siblings left the room. Temujin was left to stare at her tea cup with her lower lip sticking out in a sort of pout.

“How am I supposed to enjoy it if I can’t drink it?”

The drink still had a thick haze of steam swirling from its surface…

—until the steam suddenly wavered.

…

“Ah… I really am getting old.” Temujin gripped her cane tighter. “To think I didn’t notice an assassin until they came this close.”

From an open window, Vulcan Black leapt in with his giant maul in hand. The head of his hammer torched with the flame and lava of a volcanic eruption. A heavy cloud of billowing smolder trailed from his downward swing.

“Cheeky brat.”

Temujin tapped her cane once against the stone floor and activated her “territory”. Vulcan was less than five paces away from letting his hammer fall, when his body faltered in midair. The assassin’s large stature then, crumbled as if under its own weight. He immediately started choking for air as his vision blurred. It was as if the atmosphere itself was trying to kill him, rejecting him like a bacterial infection.

Temujin stood from her seat and bade her teacup one last glance.

She thought about how the Rakis twins were acting, and how unusual Knives was about bringing her a drink much hotter than her usual brew. It was a subtle ploy to warn her.

They must have used their Semblance to foresee this.

No wonder she gave me an especially steaming cup.

How nice it is to have such thoughtful children…

Temujin made her slow way to Vulcan, who was nearing unconsciousness.

“Huh. Never met an assassin as bulky as you. In my prime days, I have no doubt we would have enjoyed a grand battle. Alas, I can’t really act that way anymore. My days of fighting head on, facing my foe blow for blow!” she pumped her fists, then went into a tired lament. “Long past, I’m afraid. I’ve had to resort to much shrewder methods with my seniority.”

Vulcan concentrated all his focus into moving his arm. It reached for his trusty maul that fell just a few millimeters from his outstretched fingers. He could almost touch it, when Temujin’s foot rested on his knuckles.

“Still haven’t given up on killing me! My respects!”

Vulcan was practically frothing at the mouth. Nothing but his rage and anguish kept him alive.

“It was sore luck you were contracted to kill me. I doubt there’s ever a worst target in all of Remnant for assassinations than myself.”

The giant assassin was now shaking uncontrollably.

“Well, may you have peaceful passage into the afterlife knowing you were defeated by the strongest Aura Skill practitioner to ever exist.”

At some point, Vulcan stopped resisting. Something of a quiet acceptance started to seep into his soul.

“My apologies, young pup. But this is death.”

Temujin honed her cane to a sharpness with Aura Skill, before plunging it swiftly through Vulcan’s back. The blow came quick and merciful and painless.

A heavy silence filled the chamber.

“The greatest shame for an assassin having failed their mission, is a corpse left behind. I shall endeavor to preserve your dignity as much as possible. An unmarked grave in the middle of the dunes, where no one will disturb you or uncover you. I suppose I owe you that much for my disgraceful methods.”

Temujin tore down one of the large tapestries hanging from the walls and threw it over Vulcan’s corpse.

“Now, that I think of it, I never asked your name.”

“I suppose that too is a preservation of dignity for an assassin.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

 A far distance away, three figures laid on their bellies, peeking just barely over the crest of a tall sand dune.

“Curious…Very curious…” one of them muttered behind his intricately silver designed magnifying glass.

Bean and Inna, who watched the same scene play out turned to him with expectation.

“You’ve discovered the method Temujin employed against Vulcan?” Bean asked.

“You didn’t?” the man asked back.

“Reason unclear. Vulcan… collapsed without any point of contact or visible action. Your theory is required, Professor Moriarty.”

“Elementary, young man. But I must say, her Semblance is more flexible than I would have guessed. But these eyes see, this brain knows,” the man tapped his temple. “My Semblance learns all secrets.”

“Explanation required,” Bean repeated.

Moriarty gave a dark chuckle

“The old bat used her Warsmith’s Semblance to ‘weaponize’ her surroundings. Atmospheric pressure, temperature, I’d even include the gravity—all of it came under her control. She can make her environment literally a weapon. How fascinating.”

The young boy went into silent shock before speaking again.

“Conclusion drawn: close combat deemed impossible. Only viable avenue is long-range methods.”

“It’ll be tough to catch an Aura Skill user like Temujin from long-range,” Inna added her input. “But if anyone can do it, I can.”

The girl nodded her consent, but Moriarty gave them both a dismissive look. He stroked his thick broom mustache in thought.

“Not necessarily. There appears to be a weakness… For now, we should regroup and report to Salem. Our other cohorts should be carrying with Dagger Phase as we speak.”

“…Agreed,” Bean answered. “The second wave must be prepared.”

The three left their hiding spot and made for the mountain ridge they made headquarters.

On the way back, Bean glanced to the Haven Professor seemingly doing a multitude of calculations in his head.

“Probability of Dagger Team’s success?” the boy asked.

“85% by my observation” Moriarty replied easily.

“…And success of eliminating the main targets?”

“Hmmm. Four of the six objectives should be met, if we are to include Vulcan’s failed mission, though, that was within expectation.”

“And the other failed target?”

“Chain Nai will likely survive. He is an exceptionally formidable one. The rest of the targets will not.”

Bean went silent. He felt a pinch at the edge of his heart.

He didn’t know them well, or particularly liked them. But there were two individuals targeted for elimination in Dagger Phase he felt some bitterness towards.

Bean muttered quietly under his breath,

“Sorry, Yang.”

.

X  X  X X  X

.

In the aftermath of the battle, the Black Iron Road had all its furnaces fired immediately.

They didn’t know when the next battle would break out and many of those who took part in the fight, needed repairs to their arms as soon as possible. This also held true for those with prosthetics.

As a result, a long line of patrons in queue were lined up outside Brigid’s workshop. All her apprentices were working around the clock, dashing back and forth between stations. They ran out to exchange parts they were low on with other shops. And among the chaos, Brigid received her next patron with a certain grin.

“Mercury!” she bellowed. “Take care of this one here!”

Mercury quickly put the finishing touches to a Faunus’ ear in time to clear a seat.

A boy, a bit pockmarked in the face and some bloody scrapes, sat down on the stool in front of him. The young boy looked a little worse for wear, but he didn’t act like it. Instead, he beamed with a pride only the young and boastful could have.

“Can’t believe your old man let you join the aerial unit at the last minute,” Mercury shook his head, and began disassembling the damaged parts to Icarus’s wing.

“I only worked support mostly,” he replied shyly.

“Uh huh. And you get these scrapes only working support.”

“Well, when the main units were busy somewhere else, they needed us to hold the lines on another front. We couldn’t let any Grimm pass the wall, after all.”

“How many did you get?”

“About… five.”

“So, two. Pretty good for a kid with a new prosthetic.”

“I said, five!”

“I saw two.”

Icarus blushed with embarrassment.

“You were watching me?”

“Yeah. Only cause you were watching me.”

“That was cause you were so cool! How did you make a storm by yourself?! Can you teach me to do that?!”

“Maybe. Probably should check with your dad first. Where is the hard ass, anyway?”

“He’s right here, cousin.”

Mercury heard the poison in that voice and turned with an indescribable feeling of dread.

Not too far behind Icarus was Daed. But behind the father was a cloaked figure wearing a steel mask. The assassin had a knife tucked just barely visibly under his hostage’s throat.

“Jupiter…!” Mercury growled.

“So, glad you remembered me. I’d thought you’d all but forgotten your debt unpaid.”

“Let him go!”

“Tsk tsk tsk. Well, that would entirely defeat the purpose of a hostage now, wouldn’t it?”

“Goddamn it! Goddamn you, Jupiter!!!”

“Temper, dear cousin. If anyone should be angry, it should be me. You killed Apollo and Diana.”

“They got themselves killed!”

“And now, I have two less assassins under my management. You and your precious little friends are going to suffer for that. No hard feelings, mind you. Simply professional. I have a reputation to uphold.”

Mercury was about to leap at him, when Jupiter twisted the knife, causing some blood to drip from Dead. The threat made Mercury freeze instantly.

“See, that is the difference between you and I, little cousin. We are assassins, but you lack the actual principle required by our kind.”

Mercury was practically burning with anger, doing everything to check his impulse.

“Life is fleeting. It giveth and it is taketh.”

“You want me?! Then come and get me! Leave them out of this!!!”

“Attachment to it in any shape or form, even your own—”

“JUPITER!”

“—Is weakness.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

In the dark alleyway, Adam’s slash caught nothing but air. His target had ducked at the last second and slipped close in the next.

Neo twisted her body with a quick torque and a snap to unleash a vicious uppercut kick that connected with Adam’s jaw. Once her opponent was floating midair, she readied to transition into the follow up. She didn’t want to allow him even a single chance to touch the ground again.

Just then, a violet light drew from the shadows and sliced at her midsection. Neo had no choice but to back off and teleport away.

During her retreat, something odd happened. Her Semblance didn’t grant her the smooth passage it usually did. Instead, her body was flung upside down through a nearby store window.

Neo didn’t understand. She scanned her surroundings, but it was nowhere near resembling the location she wanted to warp to. Something interfered with her Semblance. When she finally looked down at the wound she received, Neo knew the cause.

In addition to the blood draining out, a cursed black mist billowed from the opened flesh. Neo then, heard the snapping of glass as her two enemies caught up to her.

Blake and Adam approached like a pack of hunters cornering their prey.

Neo could only curse silently as she took up her fighting stance once more.

“Tonight, the monster finally dies,” Blake gloated. “And once you’re gone, Yang will be mine once again.”

“…!”

“Face it, Neo. It never would’ve worked out. Yang and I were made for each other. She knows it, I know it, everybody does. Hahaha!”

Neo growled mutely.

“Even you! You just don’t have the courage to admit it.”

Neo summoned an army of shimmering glass weapons, but they were blown away by the simultaneous wind slashes of Blake and Adam.

“You never had any hope. No salvation.”

I’ll kill you!

“See? How could Yang ever love such a monster, like you? A murderer and a psychopath? She’s a good girl. Too good for you.”

I’LL KILL YOU!

“I mean, I suppose there are a few fans of the deranged kind, who love to see the brave heroine corrupted by a lunatic’s cruel whims. But I was never fond of it myself.”

I’LL KILL YOU UNTIL THERE’S NOTHING LEFT!!!

“Very unhealthy, I think. No, I much prefer the romance between the kind-hearted, well-meaning, but tragic beauty and her brave, fiercely, sexy warrior. Now, that—”

SHUT UP!!!

“That is a ship I can get behind.”

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON CHERRY BOMB!’S MAIN VOCAL LIM SEOLHEE ...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Sophia CURRENT AGE: 23 DEBUT AGE: 17 TRAINEE SINCE: 14 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Acting

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): sunshine for her image as the energy pill, saseumi for her doe-eyed beauty, bookworm because she’s been captured in airport and fansign photos holding well-read books on multiple occasions, seolcasso–seolhee + picasso for her artistic talents, heethoven– seolhee + beethoven as derived from her initial vlives where she would ask fans to send in requests for piano covers to do. INSPIRATION: her love for music is hereditary–what with her mother being a piano teacher and her grandmother’s blessed voice. she thinks she was born to embrace and to fall in love with the sound of music and, thus, desires to inspire others with her voice. SPECIAL TALENTS:

drawing & painting–her mediums being charcoal and watercolor, respectively.

a walking jukebox, which came from a few variety show appearances during group promotions where she was able to sing acapella to every single song requested by the mcs.

plays the piano, guitar, and guzheng & has been known to fulfill fan requests for her to cover other idol groups’ songs.

NOTABLE FACTS:

speaks korean, english, italian fluently.

graduated from seoul’s school of performing arts & attending seoul institute of the arts.

a huge fan of harry potter and has been quoted in an interview saying luna lovegood is the character she relates most to.

loves cooking & baking as a way to de-stress.

a known lover of dogs and children–has been captured in fancams with her signature dimpled smile playing with a dog or taking pictures with older fans who bring small children to fansigns.

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

she wants cherry bomb! to gain more notoriety as a whole–perhaps, a first music show win to show that they’ve reached a level of public reception that would propel her and her girls further on their individual paths. maybe then, she can utilize her group branding to help give her budding acting career a much needed boost.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

she wants to shatter expectations for idol actors. because despite her dramas not achieving much success/critical reception in terms of rating, she’s really fallen in love with acting and wants so desperately to be taken seriously as an actress, to be recognized for her craft. eventually when she’s broken the mold–hopefully via a breakout role in a successful drama–she wants to then ask msg if she can pursue a solo career in music–venture into singing osts or actually debut with a song she’s composed or written herself. somewhere further down the line, when the novelty of being in a girl group has well and truly faded, she hopes to be established as a well-rounded artist in music and in film/television.

IDOL IMAGE

BEFORE.

they call her chameleon–the judges.

it’s not an insult, they reassure with a flash of teeth and blood red lips. you’ve got a pretty face and a nice voice. (pause.) but no personality.

she learns later–much, much later–what it means to be a blank slate.

-

it takes three years to break the bones of a girl who constantly feels out of place in a room full of her peers.

three years to perfect the art of makeup, to dress to impress, to walk in sky-high heels like she was born for it.

all it takes is three years behind closed doors in an industry where survival of the fittest means fighting with everyone and anyone for a chance at becoming the next big thing for her to learn that the world of fame is paved with sacrifice.

three years to realize that to stand on that brightly lit stage, she must murder herself; set her innocent self on fire and reborn from the ashes someone stronger, brighter, warmer.

TABULA RASA.

trainee days spent isolating herself as the quiet, hardworking girl is buried under rigid lessons and rules of thumb on how to construct a new layer of skin to stitch around herself. years of crying behind closed doors and missing home is replaced by a fresh-faced girl who laughs at everything, smiles at everyone, and bounces back with enthusiasm after a fall—sunshine in ecstatic motion.

from practice room to the bright stage, msg sinks their claws into a lost girl with stars in her eyes and molds her into something whimsical and ethereal. they take all the broken parts of her that seep through the cracks and tell her to bury it behind a radiant smile. creates a mask for her to wear by exploiting all the mismatched parts of her that make her who she is: the dazed look of a dreamer, the seaside accent that still roils under seoul’s modern cadence, her restless hands, the purity of her lilting voice.

they take all that and slip onto her the delicate skin of a walking ray of sunshine with a heart of gold and a thousand watts smile.

on stage and on camera, she’s cherry bomb!’s little energy pill. she’s warm, a little absentminded, not quite there, but innocent all the same. it’s that charm–that little dimple in her cheek–that captivates. sets her apart. if only for a little bit.

she doesn’t mind it–not really.

it’s just another mask she wears. another role she plays.

she’s young. she has time. to change, to mature, to grow out of the novelty of it all.

(she doesn’t.)

AFTER.

four years in the eyes of the public and she’s muffled peals of laughter hidden behind small hands and eyes creasing into half moon crescents. sometimes, she’s softly uttered words of praise, advice, encouragements to her faithful fans on instagram live or a whole chorus of a newly uploaded acoustic cover sung in the voice almost too soft to hear above the strum of guitars, gratitude embedded in three minutes of heartfelt lyrics and shining eyes. to the world, seolhee is someone fragile and in need of protection. almost too good for the world. almost too untainted and pristine. (almost too good to be true.)

from her endearing attempts to interact with and befriend fans and fellow idols alike to her occasional variety show appearances where she’s the perpetually 4d absentminded girl with the dimpled smile hosts have to subtly prompt and prod for answers to their questions about her trending airport fashion, her faithful fansites and fancams in 4k depicting her pristine and perfect on stage (not a hair out of place, her smile perpetually stitched on her face. never faltering. never wavering), growing up pains, childhood in busan, her lingering accent.

there’s always a bit of lasting unconventionality hidden in those moments when they ask about home, about family, about transitioning from the carefree, quiet life on busan’s sandy shores to the pulsating thrum of the big city with its too fast pace and perpetual anonymity.

how did you survive, they ask. i didn’t. she wants to confess. i adapted. i changed, is what she says instead.

and it’s the truth. msg takes her hand-me-downs and thrift-shopped dresses and replaces them with sponsored one pieces with the tags still on them, shiny mary janes in place of worn converses, her sea salt-scented braid of hair is combed and styled in soft waves tumbling down her back and smells of peaches, her unruly tongue fixed under an iron fist to master the straight-laced way of seoul-speak.

she’s made to rid herself of all the things that make her her.

every night, she goes to sleep; her face scrubbed clean, the skin of her good girl persona somewhere on the floor. every morning, she wakes when the sun rises and pulls her skin back on, pats her face dry of tears, and presses two fingers to the corners of her mouth, pushing up until a small dimple forms on her cheek. there, transformation complete.operation sophia is a go.

every day is a vicious cycle. it’s walking on eggshells and pretending someone else isn’t living beneath this suffocating skin, wallowing in years of self-deprecation and the perpetual ache of longing (for something, for someone, for the taste of home—wherever that may be).

-

six years later and she’s still warm. still smiling. just a little dimmer. a little softer.

she’s got this look about her now–almost fragile; whimsical in a way that garners second glances when people first meet her or see her sitting in a corner of the room lingering on the outskirts of conversations, staring into space. a waifish doll; an effortless kind of beauty. ethereal; almost surreal.

she talks softly with a touch of poetic elusiveness and practiced eccentricity, designed to fluster or to purposely dazzle. she stares like she’s trying to see through you. into you. she’s a soft kind of pretty when she’s caught in between camera flashes or in the midst of whispered conversations with one of her members. and yet, on stage and on television wearing the skin of someone else–someone polished and manufactured, she’s danger in high heels.

catch her off-guard and all alone in the dead of the night with her face scrubbed clean and swathed in a too big hoodie and you’ll notice there’s a strange kind of dichotomy when you realize the girl you watched on tv belting high notes or crying her heart out in her latest drama is vastly different from the lonely girl who looks the spitting image of her, sitting for hours in front of a painting in an art gallery or by the han gazing into the waters.

softer, sadder, dreamier.

still as lost as ever.

IDOL HISTORY

PRELUDE.

appa falls in love with eomma in italy, five years after their fateful first encounter in the circus that is high school. a whirlwind romance between a budding photographer and a piano teacher. must be fate, the wedding guests whisper when they vow eternity to one another in a church filled with friends and family who wish them well with warm smiles and teary eyes.

so they love and love and love and somewhere in between, a baby girl is born.

eomma cries; she’s so happy. relieved, she admits years later with a kiss to her forehead. they’ve been trying and trying, after all.

appa cries too. because here she is; another girl for him to love, to protect. a gift from heaven.

they name her sophia, after the saint.

ONE.

they return home after the honeymoon phase fizzles and fades, settling in busan with halmeoni amidst student loans and living on budgets. there, she grows up a free-spirited daydreamer, often associating the world and the people around her in streaks of color and a symphony of sounds. her childhood consists of sand between her toes, sea salt in her hair, ocean-soaked dresses, and the sound of tinkling laughter.

her four seasons of growing up on the sandy shores of busan goes a little like this:

spring: an almost brand new knee-length dress made of white lace her mother buys from a thrift shop at a discounted rate, sunflowers and daisies dancing in the wind, chasing butterflies, and flower bookmarks pressed into the pages of a journal.

summer: ripe with music, her spread eagle on a blanket and sunset golds streaked across her face, the drone of cicadas, cherry popsicles, the whir of electric fans, knee-deep in the sea, her mother calling her name off in the distance.

autumn: a waterfall of warm colors, halmeoni’s cozy handmade sweaters with the sleeves hanging past her fingertips, gingham skirts and leggings, pumpkin pies, spiced lattes, a night sky filled with paper lanterns and the glimmer of stars, father’s phone ringing off the hook in the middle of the night; every night.

winter: soft pink mittens and oversized pea coats over chunky sweaters and chunkier scarves made with love, homemade hot chocolate, footprints in fresh snow, one hand clasped in mother’s hand; the other grasping air, perpetual cold; lingering emptiness.

she’s seven, wide-eyed and curious, watching a master chef work her magic. it’s halmeoni in a soft yellow dress and a spongebob apron around her waist singing deulgukhwa hits and humming to joo hyunmi and patti kim. it’s little seolhee perched on the counter by the fridge singing right along in a game of monkey see, monkey do.

early evening always starts with the swell of a sobangcha song, halmeoni wielding a carrot under her chin and seolhee’s little face crinkling up in peals of laughter. in the living room, her parents smile indulgently, hands busy tucking unpaid bills under week-old newspapers and balls of colorful yarn. and ends with seolhee curled in halmeoni’s lap, both hands clutching her parents’ sleeve in her sleep.

days and nights like these are normal—until they’re not.

one cold night in december, dinner prep is a somber affair. the radio is turned off and secondhand vinyls gather dust—buried under boxes full of knick-knacks and memories. there’s no halmeoni twirling in the kitchen, no tongue-in-cheek adlib to the latest hit trot song, no laughter.

home is quiet. empty. and little seolhee aches with the feeling of missing someone no amount of singing or wishing could ever bring back.

TWO.

she’s ten when she learns to make friends with an old guitar she buys off a neighbor moving to the big city, learns to strum awkwardly, clumsily; a cacophony of sound. it takes a full four seasons for her to learn to love the vibrations of nylon strings beneath the pads of her fingers. learns to put herself back together singing acoustic covers and soft little ballads with her face turned up to the stars. puberty comes and goes with her seated on the rickety steps of her porch, strumming nostalgic chords to the ghost of her youth.

her parents say nothing as they watch her from inside the house, smiles wilted, wistful, watery.

(there’s so many things their daughter could be, should be, and hurting, cradling sadness and turning grief into old-timey blues shouldn’t be one of them.)

they leave her be when she starts going to the market in the sticky heat of summer, guitar strapped to her back, playing for small crowds and neighborly regulars. from dusk to dawn, seolhee fixes a soft smile on her face as she strums and strums and strums, voice light and whimsical as she sings requests as a thank you for listening.

she comes home with a straw hat full of notes and red fingers, knowing full well it’s not enough to make up for this month’s expenses. so seolhee ventures back out again, haunts local farmer’s markets and side streets, the sandy beaches during tourist season, trying to make the most of a life that seems to pass her by too quickly, too quietly.

-

sometimes, she tells herself that when she sings something inside of her heals. as if the soft blue notes become a makeshift stopgap measure filling up the gaping hole in her chest, easing the perpetual emptiness, soothing the ache—the want—for a different life.

sometimes, when she closes her eyes, seolhee pretends she doesn’t hear the sound of her parents fighting, the front door slamming, and her mother’s muffled crying.

sometimes, when she lets herself sink in between lyrics about a dreamer wandering away in search for herself—for an adventure—seolhee swears that some day it could all be possible.

THREE.

family is four. then, three. then, two.

home is no longer sand in between her toes and the ocean clinging to her skin, but the veins of seoul—harsher and all concrete jungle. it’s sleek office buildings and cold cityscapes and soon, the roads she used to bike down back home is replaced by honking taxis and the congestion of too many strangers.

home is now a shoebox; a cramped one bedroom apartment on the outskirts of seoul.

FOUR.

school is but a circus and, sometimes, she finds herself center stage. an unwilling spectacle. her accent is the only thing she has left of home and her peers mock her for it. turn her into the punchline of inside jokes and over-the-shoulder remarks about a bumbling seaside girl who doesn’t belong. she’s not ashamed, but it hurts just the same.

so, she keeps to herself, minds her own business, and makes herself at home on the rooftop and the empty bleachers in an emptier field. she has her guitar and her ocean of sounds. starts spending more time with her head down, hair in a loose braid, writing the world and the people she watches and meets down in the pages of secondhand leather-bound notebooks.

-

“you have a pretty voice.”

it’s rooftop prince. only this time, they meet in the middle of the soccer field. it’s seolhee with her guitar in her lap and a curious tilt of her head, one hand shielding her eyes and feeling like she’s looking at the sun. blinded, she looks away. a little embarrassed, a little flattered. it’s been a long time since someone has complimented her, after all.

“why do you sing?”

so i can heal. one day, some day.

seolhee smiles and turns her face up to the sky. “because it feels like i’m home.”

FIVE.

she’s two days shy of her fourteenth birthday when she wraps herself in a chunky sweater and a soft scarf stitched with halmeoni’s love and makes her way to a quiet corner in hongdae with her guitar strapped to her back. braves the bite of an impending winter with numbed fingers and a voice that carries.

she starts with sobangcha and joo hyunmi, hesitant and almost stuttering as she tunes her guitar with nimble fingers and her heart in her throat. somewhere, somehow, she hears halmeoni telling her to be brave as she plucks strings and closes her eyes, petite body swaying to the ebb and flow of a bygone song. with halmeoni in her ear, she lets the world fade away, pays no mind to the small gathering of an audience finding their way to the nostalgic croon of an old soul.

she comes awake to the sound of applause and a case full of clinking coins and a tiny pile of notes. she thanks everyone for their time and sets off to trudge home with her earnings.

she’s pulled from her afterglow by a tap on her shoulder and whirls around to a man in a suit, all coiffed and perfect, voice velvety smooth. her early birthday gift is an invitation that sounds too good to be true.

-

her mother is apprehensive. she’s heard stories about the life of an idol. doesn’t want her daughter to live life under perpetual scrutiny, robbed of her youth, and always struggling to catch up to changing times and new trends.

“you’ll have to give up everything.”

“not everything.“ not you, she means to say. never you.

impending goodbyes has her losing her grip on the impression of a budding city girl society has pressed upon her, slipping back into the soft drawl of dialect and settling right at home in the wake of her desire to chase after a flimsy dream. like this, she’s doe-eyed and wears the heart of a dreamer, curls around her mother like she’s five years old and afraid of the dark.

“i guess this means my baby’s all grown up now.”

am i? doesn’t feel like it. seolhee swallows back a sob and presses her face to her mother’s neck.

goodbye shouldn’t have sounded so definitive. so painful.

SIX.

three years into training and she realizes her voice has stopped being her own, shaped by the company and molded into the image of an innocent girl with the unpolished voice of a would-be angel.

three years and she realizes she’s signed her youth away as dreams of singing on stage with just a microphone and her guitar are replaced by backhanded compliments, veiled sabotage behind closed doors, and a sense of something sacred being stolen from her.

she’s forbidden from ever bringing up a possible solo debut in the future where she can sing about a girl who’s just trying to find her place in the world. the answer is no almost every time. sometimes, if she’s good—when she ranks on top during evaluations, when she ends up being amongst the shortlist of girls for an upcoming girl group—she gets a backhanded maybe. always baited, always rebuffed. lulled into a sense of security with empty promises of what-if’s and what-could’ve-been’s.

three years in and she learns to bite her tongue and does as she’s told. sings what she’s given. dances as she’s practiced. smiles as she’s commanded.

all the while, hours spent in the dead of the night writing lyrics that read like poems, like stories of a thousand lives not yet lived in her notebooks are laid to waste, buried under rejection after rejection in the bottom of a box full of remnants of her childhood and reminders of a home away from home.

like this, she muffles the cries of a girl homesick for a place she’s never been, sings and dances like it’s the only thing that matters and tells herself she’s happy.

tells herself it’s all she wants.

tells herself it’s enough.

(it never is. never will be.)

SEVEN.

lim seolhee is buried—erased—the day she debuts as cherry bomb’s main vocal.

(because lim seolhee is the sunshine girl who looked at people like they hung the moon and the stars. because lim seolhee is tousled hair and tinkling laughter in the middle of the sea. because lim seolhee is made of old songs and picture books, flower crowns, and grass stains.

because lim seolhee is the kind of girl easily broken and taken advantage of.

because lim seolhee, naive and kind, has no place in a world full of backstabbing and desperate survivors trying to make it to the top.

so, she creates herself a persona—someone soft-spoken and unassuming, who seemed unlikely to stab you in the back than she is to hold you while you cried. someone who always seemed a little dazed and absentminded; her gaze faraway, her voice a whisper.

someone like halmeoni—all soft around the edges, always so poised and graceful in her mannerisms (from her mysterious little smile, to the tilt of her head, to the way she walked and talked), her voice a balm to her soul.

she takes all the things she loves most about her and creates a persona in her grandmother’s shadow.

like this, sophia is born to weather all the storms seolhee doesn’t have the strength to handle on her own—just like halmeoni had been there, once upon a time, to hold her hand while she dusted the dirt off her knees and got right back up to face the world.

-

her father calls three days later. when she picks up, all she hears is his rumbling laughter, sounding much fuller than it had in their rickety old house filled with the scent of spices and long-time struggles.

“are you happy? how’s it feel to be on stage?”

like i’m flying. like i’m dying. “how are you, daddy? are you happier now?”

“…yeah, i guess i am, seol-ah. i think i am.”

“that’s good. that’s all i ever wanted—for you to be happy.”

(what she means is—i miss you so much, it hurts. will you come home? will you come back? do you miss me too?)

“i’m proud of you. be good. keep shining, dad will always be by your side.”

don’t lie. don’t lie. don’t lie, she thinks as she cries silent tears and thanks him for everything. for the moments of happiness when she was but a child too curious, too naive, too loving for her own good. for the lifetime of loneliness and always getting left behind when things get too hard—too tough—for people to stay.

“i’m always good.“ always. then and now.

EIGHT.

msg thrives on how easy it is to break her and fit her into a mold of their design, how quickly she can give away her free will for a promise of an adventure (of life never being dull, of living a dream). it’s easy to take a lost little thing in need of guidance and shape her into something otherworldly, push her onto a gnarly road and tell her to simply go straight to find her way back home, to where she needs to be.

but if one were to ask where she’s needed, she thinks of her old childhood home in busan, the pale yellow paint peeling on patches on her ceiling, the glow-in-the-dark wallpaper brittle and gathering dust. thinks of being waist-deep in the sea, thinks of halmeoni in her spongebob apron and a carrot as her makeshift microphone, thinks of her father somewhere (surviving, thriving, happy—she hopes), thinks of her mother and her work-roughened hands and the small shoebox apartment tucked in the tiniest corner of a heartless city.

if one were to ask what it is lim seolhee wants in private, watch her freeze, her smile slipping just slightly off her face—like a deer caught in headlights. watch her eyes, those sad lonely eyes, well up in tears she won’t let spill. watch her closely and carefully as her body seems to curl in on herself—as if the weight of the world is suddenly looming on her shoulders. watch for the tremor when she speaks, fingers twisting at her sides, voice impossibly soft and fragile: i don’t know…no one’s ever asked me before.

and no one has. no one cares either. msg simply takes and so do her fans. everyone breaks off little pieces of her; pieces she willingly gives because she can’t say no—until there’s nothing left for her to give. nothing left for anyone to take.

all that remains is the hollowed out shell of a girl drifting aimlessly, her heart never here or in one place, her mind lingering on faraway places not yet traveled and the sound of ocean waves crashing on sandy shores like a neverending siren’s call.

NINE.

she enters a mid-life crisis at the ripe age of twenty.

the zeroes in her bank account don’t mean anything when all she sees staring back at her in the bathroom mirror is a tired, lonely girl (a skinny, pretty little thing. all hollowed out by time, youth chipping away at the edges), who doesn’t know what she wants. doesn’t know where she belongs or who she is.

so when the stage starts to feel like a burden, she finds a niche on the small screen. makes peace with esoteric scripts and starts creating a name for herself. slowly, she learns to find temporary homes in between lines and in fictional universes. slowly, she finds becoming someone else exhilarating, being on set like stepping into another world. acting becomes second nature—another job; one she actually likes.

but like the stage, the set too becomes another battlefield. people say you won’t get to where you are without ruffling a few feathers or stepping on someone’s toes.

after all, survivors don’t make it to the top without playing a little dirty.

(she learns this the hard way.)

-

mother once told her names were dangerous things—that a girl should remember the names of men who tried to steal her heart, who loved her like she was the only thing that mattered, and who left her all broken, bruised, and ugly. mother tells her it’s the name of men she should be afraid of. the sons of women who lured her in with their heated gazes, their lilting voices, their body full of power. mother warned her that men were dangerous; their names a warning sign—a temptation.

her fall from grace comes as a surprise and at the hands of an up-and-coming actor.

when she meets him, he is boy blue with a heart of gold. all gentle hands and a dirty mouth. their first kiss is a shy affair—all bumping noses and awkward lip grazing—and done in the quiet of his penthouse suite.

they’re on their third date when they’re caught on camera; their rendezvous splashed front page on gossip rags and dispersed on the internet. a tentative relationship captured for all of posterity.

the world explodes. her heart does too.

msg does damage control. spins the fairytale narrative of a love borne between friends. of close encounters, bad timing, and years of pining. the company pins everything on her longstanding image as the sweet girl who would shoulder the world if asked to. pleads for the public, the fans, the media to support this budding romance between two close friends who made it through thick and thin as trainees all those years ago. 

but the damage is done.

the fandom and the public remain divided.

when the hate comments begin to seep through the cracks and makes it way up top, msg realizes what could’ve been a good publicity stunt to garner her more individual branding backfires. realizes they overestimated her value. realizes she’s not quite enough, not quite there. not yet—that her reputation, though pristine prior, could not support the weight of negative public scrutiny and backlash.

so msg pulls her. benches her. gone are the growing piles of scripts and role offers. gone are the ever present promises that she could eventually get that solo she wanted and has begged for year after year.

all that remains are the cyclical group promotions.

prison has a new name and it’s the four pillars that are fame, fortune, reputation, and public perception that traps her within its midst.

2016 begins with a bang and ends with a whimper.

-

she’s twenty-one when he kisses her goodbye the night before their breakup goes public.

she’s twenty-one when the internet reports that they’ve called it quits, lamenting the tragedy of yet another “perfect” couple succumbing to the woes of distance and busy schedules.

she doesn’t cry, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t smile when msg unfreezes her. she says nothing when they warn her to behave and simply nods.

days turn into weeks into months. and, slowly, her heart mends itself. suture by painful suture, scar over invisible scar. healed over by the weight of time and a perpetual kind of numbness that seeps through skin, through muscle, through bone and into her very soul.

like this, she stands back up and trudges on forward—an energizer bunny running on the last dredges of its batteries.

holding out as long as she can. as hard as she can. as always.

TEN.

twenty-three and she’s found herself embarking on a new journey. a new chapter to write.

she’s got a budding acting career ahead. cherry bomb! is still afloat. the road to stardom is long yet, but she’s getting there.

slowly, but surely.

-

deep down—some day, somehow, she prays for anonymity. wants a life shrouded in mystery, no longer talked about in superlatives, made infamous by gossip, speculation, and rumors.

maybe in fifteen years, lim seolhee can be found again in a small town off the coast of some river city. a wanderer, an anomaly amidst a sea of faceless people.

there, a modern-day wraith finally content with her place in the world.

once lost, now found. just a woman. plain and simple.