in

123: Panicroom     124: Killing Zomboids     125: Angel Endangered
126: Heaven Saves Hell     127: Peril Repulsed, Vow Rejected

Post: 07.19.2004
Date: 07.05.2196
Time: Afternoon

Panicroom

2-85 grabs my arm tighter, pulling.

"What is it?" I ask, putting my other hand on my hip, groping for the comfort of the sever-whip there, expecting the static, but feeling none.

He motions to the other wirewitches, but is jerked back away from me suddenly.

"What do you think you're doing?" cyn(7)dar demands, hand holding an activated sever-whip. His cloak is thrown back over his shoulders. His face is a mask of anger.

"cyndar!" (2)amlela shouts. I see her stepping from her throne. "You dare activate a wen (pon) in the gad (rin)!"

Behind 2-85, clustering, are the black-cloaked guards. Their sever-whips aren't activated, but they're drawn and ready.

The coven and Kiiziiziixii have broken free of the crowd, taking up defensive positions close to me. None of the wirewitches are changing yet, and they haven't drawn their weapons, but they're close to doing both. Kiiziiziixii is trembling, her hands near her belt and the array of weapons there. Her face is hidden behind her hair. Is she angry? Scared? High on adrenaline?

2-85 shrugs off cyn(7)dar's hand and leans close to me, his eyes darting between me and the crowd. "Come with me, syl. No questions. Just come."

"She's not going anywhere, warlock," cyn(7)dar says. A flick of his wrist and the plasma wire from his sever-whip skitters across the floor, leaving black scorch marks. "She will be mated to me today. You can stay if you want, but you're not taking her away from here. Let go of her."

2-85 ignores him. "It may be too late already, syl. Make your decision."

"She already has," cyn(7)dar says. "She chose me."

"Turn that thing off," (2)amlela says to cyn(7)dar, grabbing at his hand.

"Your life will end if you use that on any wirewitch," JACK growls. "Do as she says."

"Tell me what's happening," I say to 2-85, but reaching for cyn(7)dar, hoping I can hold him back.

"Let go of her, warlock," cyn(7)dar says. "I won't tell you again."

7-07 and PIIX are stepping closer. cyn(7)dar eyes them both, but doesn't back down. PIIX is making a hissing sound. I think her arms are getting longer, sharper. I catch a look at her face, and I can see that she wants cyn(7)dar to attack. It would give her a reason.

I hear em(0) shout something, but the crowd is getting louder and her voice gets lost in it. 2-85's eyes plead with me. His hairstalk swirls to the back of my leg, imploring. cyn(7)dar notices, and I see the muscles in his good arm tense. 7-07 manages to move behind cyn(7)dar. Behind them, Driftling guards are waiting, looking for either a command or an excuse to take action.

Glitch, this is getting out of hand.

"Calm down, everybody," I say, hoping my voice sounds more authoritative than I think it does. "cyndar, keep your head. 2-85 is my friend. He wouldn't hurt me. Now, deactivate that sever-whip."

But he's not listening, not really. He shakes his head. "He's a wirewitch. He can't be trusted."

"He is my friend. All of them are. Trust me."

2-85 looks at cyn(7)dar with the buzz of a wirewitch sigh in his throat. "I want the same thing as you: for her to be safe. I am protecting her."

"Protecting her from what?" cyn(7)dar asks.

2-85 jerks his head toward the doorway. "They are coming. We have to get her to a safer place."

There's a brief moment of confusion, as each of us--the wirewitches, cyn(7)dar, Kiiziiziixii, the black-cloaked guards, and the members of the Sphek close by--attempt to figure out what 2-85 means.

"A safer place..." Kiiziiziixii mutters, then grunts.

I'm confused. "What do you mean they're coming?" I ask, but immediately realize that he's talking about--

"Nanzag," cyn(7)dar breathes.

Underscoring his words, a muffled explosion sounds in the distance. Only, it's not as distant as I'd like. Regardless, the effect is instantaneous. The crowd panics. Immediately, I'm squished between JACK, cyn(7)dar, Kiiziiziixii, and (2)amlela. Luckily, cyn(7)dar deactivated the sever-whip in time, or we all would've been in trouble. Screams fill the air. I can hear em(0) and the other members of the Sphek attempting to make themselves be heard over the crowd, but their words are lost in the tumult raging around me.

How can they be this panicked? What is it about these Nanzag that stirs up this terror?

"Doesn't make any sense!" (2)amlela shouts. "Why didn't we have any more advanced warning than this? What happened to our long-range scouts?"

"They are most likely dead," 2-85 says, his face tense with the strain of holding the crowd back. "I was on the ridge. I saw dust clouds several kilometers away. I ran back here as fast as I could. Still, I didn't realize they were moving this fast toward us."

"You were only going to save me?" I ask. "What about everybody else? When were you planning on warning everybody else?"

"My covenant is with you. I was trying to get you out of this place without causing a panic."

"Didn't work," I say. I think about shea(3)va and van(9)nis, wondering where they are, wondering if they made it out yet, or if they're trapped by the

     panicroom.

"Once you were safe, I would've told the others," 2-85 says.

"This is not the time for this," cyn(7)dar grunts, elbowing back against the crush around us.

"He's right," JACK says. "We have to get syl out of here. If we're going to have to fight, we can't do it in here."

"Doesn't make any sense," I say. "People should be leaving the gad (rin). Why are they all crowding in here?"

"Because they think they're safe here," (2)amlela says.

"Are they?" I ask.

"Maybe," cyn(7)dar says before (2)amelela can answer. "The Nanzag have never attacked the city directly before, so we don't know if the field can protect us."

"It would be stupid to rely on whatever minor protection this structure might be able to provide," 2-85 says.

JACK braces herself against my shoulder. "Let's get syl out of here. We can protect her better out in the open. PIIX, 7-07, clear a path. syl, just go where they lead. Kiiziiziixii, 2-85, and I will take the sides."

"Tell them not to hurt anybody," I say, suddenly fearful of the methods the two wirewitches might resort to.

"Do whatever you have to in order to get us clear," JACK says, her voice steady, "but don't do anything that's gonna get syl mad at me."

"cyndar, can you see shea or vannis?" I ask over my shoulder.

He's pressed up behind JACK, barely able to move, pushing off of Kiiziiziixii to keep the crowd back. I can hear his deep breathing as he struggles to maneuver, then his breath at my ear when he replies: "Can't."

I'm sure they're okay. shea(3)va told me that she was skilled with the sever-whip. She claimed to be better than I was. At the time, I couldn't debate her--I'm not really sure how good I am. I've got some latent skill, that's for certain, but it's manifested itself without my conscious thought for the most part. It seems like more of a reflex than a skill. I can't control it.

     (reflex or skill, get it ready, angel)

PIIX and 7-07 begin to punch a hole in the crowd. They move with purpose and precision, using their arms and shoulders to bully their way forward. At times, they bring their hairstalks into play. The shrieks of Driftlings who find themselves with a hairstalk wrapped around their leg or waist is a disturbing echo in my ears. Kiiziiziixii's hair talons dangle in my face. JACK reaches out beside me, knocking them away.

As we move, making our slow, lurching escape, I can smell the swirling stench of sweat and panic seep through the air like a plague. It's contagious, and everybody here's got it. They're afraid. I have to fight against a trickle of fear myself. cyn(7)dar downplayed the Nanzag threat--but perhaps only for my benefit. Glitch, he didn't want me scared like everybody else. He said the Driftlings were at war, but there hasn't been an attack the entire time I've been here, so my mind went on to other things. Not even shea(3)va brought it up. Even though I've been here for several weeks, I haven't really been out into the city. Haven't taken the time. Too many other things to deal with. An oversight--I missed important information. Apparently, I should have been curled in the corner, shaking in terror the entire time, like a youngling who's had a bad dream.

I'm glad JACK is here. I'm glad the coven is here to protect me. I'm glad that--

A thought intrudes at that point.

     (you're happy about this, angel)

     (not about the attack, but that...he's here)

     (to rescue you)

          (you're glitched pathetic, you know, you can't have it both ways)

I clench my eyes, blocking my mind's betrayal. I swear under my breath, hoping I can keep this line of thinking under control, knowing I probably can't.

We're nearing the entrance to the gad (rin). It's more difficult to move here because, just like us, there are people trying to get out, but unlike us, there are people trying to get in. Consequently, the flow of bodies here has almost come to a standstill.

"Glitch it to Eiech!" JACK says. "This isn't going to work! We're gonna have to be more aggressive!"

"Don't hurt anybody!" I say. "None of this is their fault!"

"Have your coven do what they have to," cyn(7)dar says. "We can't let syl be harmed. She's more important than all these others."

It's not the coldness in his voice that scares me; it's the resolve.

"No!" I yell. "JACK, remember your promise!"

"I remember!" she grates, then hisses something I don't understand. PIIX and 7-07 respond in a similar manner, then renew their forward movement, only now they're making high-pitched wirewitch wails. After a second, JACK and 2-85 join in. The sound they're making is horrible, impact-hammering against my ears, digging back behind my eyeballs, into the squishiness of my brain. The sound doesn't go through me as much as it does settle inside me and take root. I cover my ears as best I can and concentrate on putting foot in front of foot. Step by step, we move. The people around us instinctively move away from that sound any way they can, backwards, forwards, sideways, anything to get away. They can't escape it, but they sure try. Me, I'm stuck dead center, at the eye of this blistering sonic storm that is about to draw blood from my ears. Get me out of here, JACK, this is worse than the static.

We're breaching the doorway. The doors have been ripped from their mounts now. As we pass outside, my thoughts that aren't overrun with wirewitch screams are of the war zone we're about to enter, and what awaits us there.

As we exit the gad (rin) the wirewitches go quiet, as if on cue, but they stay huddled around me.

Static, my old friend, returns to me, driving a rusty knife deep into my cerebellum, almost taking me from my feet. I stumble, but my hand in JACK's ensures I don't go all the way down.

"I'm scared," I say, as the static settles back to a more tolerable level, not able to bring myself to look past PIIX and 7-07. I don't want to see what's out here. I'm not ready.

A hand grabs mine. "This way," 2-85 says, leading me. The coven fans out in front of me. There are Driftlings running past us, from left to right, presumably away from something. Other, bolder Driftlings are running the other way, sever-whips activated and trailing light and sparks in the long shadow of the setting sun.

"Do you see them?" JACK asks. She's sticking close to me. I can feel one of her hairstalks pushing at the small of my back.

cyn(7)dar moves up beside PIIX and 7-07, hand gripping his sever-whip, but it's not activated yet. Kiiziiziixii has a gun in each of her hands. Can hear faint whines from both of them.

"Yes, we can see them" PIIX says. "They're coming this way."

"We need to move out in the open," Kiiziiziixii says. "It's too cramped here to fight effectively."

"No matter what, stay close to me," JACK says.

"Always," I say, looking past Kiiziiziixii and the others. A pillar of smoke rises from one of the domes on the far side of the city.

"I'll take syl away from here," cyn(7)dar says, turning back and grabbing my free hand with his deformed one. "Somewhere she'll be safe."

"No," 2-85 says. "She stays with us."

"I'm not going to allow her to be in the middle of this!" cyn(7)dar says. Plasma-wire spools into existence, curling at his feet.

"cyndar," I say, as quietly as I can, squeezing his hand.

"We can protect her best if she is near us," JACK says.

cyn(7)dar looks over his shoulder, back towards that column of smoke. "You witches will be in the worst of it. And you want her with you?"

"Don't make me leave," I plead. "I'm safer here with all of you, together. I'm not going to--"

But of course, the decision is ripped from us. I hear noise close by. Alien noises. The whir of machinery and wet, slurping sounds. The soggy screams of dying Driftlings. Everybody tenses. The circle of protection around me constricts, cutting off my clear view of the street.

"Glitch," PIIX says.

"Too many," 7-07 says, his body sharpening in front of me.

I can't see them, but I can hear them spilling out from behind the domes just over there. There's a lot of them; the ground is vibrating. They're inbound, headed right for us. The smell of wirewitch skin and my own sweat is a sickening mix in my nose as I fumble for my sever-whip. Not sure how I'll be able to fight like this, pregnant and surrounded by Knights of Mechaflesh, but I want to be ready. Just as I have the sever-whip handle in my palm, relishing the comfort of the control surfaces, I hear the roar of grinding gears and the scream of some inhuman beast, then there's movement all around me, the sounds of conflict, the grunts of exertion, the sparks of sever-whips and the curious electronic sounds of pulse weaponry. Then the wirewitches aren't pressing close anymore. JACK and cyn(7)dar both let go of me. I activate the sever-whip, imagining I can feel the vibrations of energy which course through the plasma wire. The static flares like an exploding star. Then the air goes...red.

Oh God, one of us just died.

Post: 03.17.2005
Date: 07.05.2196
Time: Afternoon

Killing Zomboids

Through the blood mist, a severed head tumbles end-over-end across my vision, fanning tendrils of bright purple hair and slick threads of torn flesh. Shards of vertebrae are thrown into the air. Mind tells me that, even though it's not possible, the head actually looked at me as it flew by.

Gasping, I feel a black moment of relief that the head didn't belong to anybody I know. My friends are still alive.

But that thought dies a quick death as I'm yanked sideways by a strong arm. I catch a flash of movement, then something slams into the ground where I just was. So much hair in my eyes, I have to close them, can't see.

"Stay close to me, no matter what" 2-85 says in my ear.

You and JACK both. A flick of my head, hair swings away, vision clears, affording me a look at the nightmarish creature which occupies the space I did only a moment ago.

It's a Zomboid, a Nanzag, and it's horrible to look at. It's body is thin--too thin to be believable--with gray-black legs and arms all spindly and long, like withered branches on some dying tree. Hoses and gears and wires are attached all over its body, but all of it seems to be made out of flesh--if that's what the mottled, sick, and bumpy substance covering its body really is. This fusion of metal and flesh is on a level of perversion I've never seen before. No way to divine where the technology ends and the flesh begins; no difference between the two anymore. I find my gaze drawn to its shoulders, where a pulpy, swollen head rests on a bed of flesh-pistons. Inhuman, pinkish eyes swivel there, sunk into deep sockets. The eyes are devoid of awareness. Its head is smooth, but lopsided, only a few strands of shadowy gray hair hanging down from one side. Where its ears should be, there are circular radio signal antennas. Its mouth is covered by a corrugated hose which loops over its shoulder, connecting somewhere on its back. The hose is semi-transparent. Within, I can see coagulated fluids circulating.

Gaze shifts to its hands, where it holds two long-bladed weapons. They're already wet with blood.

My ears pick up the whir of motors and the thin whisper of hydraulics as it moves.

Static buzzing, I ready my sever-whip, noticing for the first time the ruined body lying only a few feet away. It's the the body that severed head belonged to...I think. The body's been torn open as if it had been tossed into the teeth of a corpse-shredder, sliced in a hundred places, just a cut up piece of meat now.

Looking at the mess on the ground, anger wells, and I know that I'm going to kill this Nanzag in front of me. And the others. As many as I can. But first.

First things first. You're first, glitcher.

When it charges, it's fast. I barely have time to retreat backwards, all the while dodging the thrashing of my own weapon before I can injure my ankles. 2-85 is a sudden blur in front of me, sidestepping those swinging blades, slashing furiously at the Nanzag's torso with elongated fists sporting wirewitch flesh spikes. Black ooze splashes into existence, spurting from deep wounds. The curious stench of rusting metal and some sickly sweet fruit filters into the atmosphere. Nose feels like it wants to run.

The Nanzag staggers, but doesn't fall. Doesn't let go of those blades. Looks at me again with those vacant eyes. Then, despite the hose covering its mouth, it smiles at me. Wait, it's not smiling. No, not exactly. It's something else. It's...lusting at me. In that lust/smile is pain. In that lust/smile is violation. In that lust/smile are the words: You think your warlock boyfriend hurt me? He didn't. I may be leaking like a female during her bleeding week, but to tell you truth of it, I didn't feel a glitched thing! So, what do you think about that? Don't worry, after I strangle him with his own hairstalks, it'll be your turn. Just wait till I get to you, angel. I'll rape your corpse. That is, right after I pop that bubble you're wearing around your middle and dig out the little parasite I know you're hiding.

I do something then. Something potentially fatal: I freeze.

Stuck there, watching the Nanzag bat 2-85 aside with barely a thought. Stuck there, as it charges at me again. I want my legs to move, but they're not responding. I'm frozen, waiting for the impact, the pain, the red and then the black. Rust and fruit in my nostrils, stronger now. Static is the deafening roar of a nuclear explosion in my ears.

Inside me, the baby kicks. The message clear: Get your rear in gear, angel!

My vision lights up, with what I suspect is the glow of a sever-whip. I feel like I'm moving then, or being moved. The static is strong enough that my vision blurs, so I'm not sure if the Nanzag hits me or not. When I come to a stop, I shake my head and wipe away tears and hair from my face. Just to one side, the Nanzag has...come apart. Who did--?

"Are you okay?" 2-85 asks, his voice grinding with concern, or maybe anger.

"Y-Yeah. I think so."

"I thought it was going to kill you, syl."

"Me too. Good thing somebody stopped it. But I don't know--"

2-85 turns his back on me, but only because there are more Nanzag approaching. "What are you talking about? You killed it."

"No--" I begin, but then notice that the arm holding the sever-whip feels a little restricted. Looking down, following the taunt length of my sever-whip, I see that the end of it is still wrapped around the decapitated head of the Nanzag. Pulled tight and digging into the Nanzag's face, it's sparking and smoking, melting the flesh there, sending rivers of gray muck flowing down to the ground. I flick my wrist. The head jumps up, spinning away, as the plasma wire snaps back. "Oh," I mumble, as if that somehow explains what I just did.

It wasn't me. Not really. It was the automatic me. I don't know what all she can do yet, and I don't know how to control her, but is was definitely her.

"Watch it," 2-85 warns, hand briefly touching my shoulder.

My baby kicks again. The static lowers, and I'm more alert, more aware of the battle around me. 2-85, shoulder to mine, hairstalk dangling somewhere down around my ankles, reassuring, is guiding me sideways, pushing me slightly behind him. 7-07, PIIX, and JACK are fanned out a few meters in front of me, each locked in combat with multiple Nanzag. I can see that cyn(7)dar is holding his ground off to my left, surrounded by the bodies of smoking Nanzag. Kiiziiziixii is the lone defender behind us. I haven't turned around, but I can hear her back there, the sounds of her grunts and exhalations, the sounds of Nanzag dying.

A quick scan of the area, and I realize that none of the Nanzag look the same. Different shapes and sizes, every last one within my field of view. Guess they're all unique, or close enough at least. Wonderful.

Quick glance over my shoulder lets me see Kiiziiziixii execute two Nanzag. The barrels of her guns pressed to their heads flare briefly with brilliant red blobs of light, and then, identical explosions. The Nanzag go limp at her feet, their outstretched arms still curled around her thighs. She takes a step back to extract herself from their grasp, then targets two other Nanzag farther away and unleashes two quick shots. Both shots are right on target, each sending another Nanzag to its death, each saving a frightened Driftling child.

Too many Nanzag to count. It's chaos all around us. There are Driftlings locked in combat with Nanzag everywhere I look. Loops of light blur through the air as the Driftlings wield their sever-whips against the invaders. There's no coordination to the attack, or at least none that I can discern. They're attacking at random, choosing targets based on some alien logic. I watch one of them begin to attack a young male Driftling, only to stop, turn around and run twenty meters in order to attack another. It doesn't make any sense.

"This doesn't make any sense!" JACK yells back over her shoulder as she waits for another aggressor. "There's no pattern to what they're doing."

"They are animals," cyn(7)dar says. "Nothing more."

"What do these animals want?" 2-85 asks. Of all my protectors, he's standing the closest. cyn(7)dar would be closer, but the corpses of Nanzag at our feet prevent that.

cyn(7)dar exhales heavily, glancing at me, then 2-85, then back to me, then away. "We are merely food to them."

"What can we do?" I ask, feeling strangely safe within the circle of protection around me. My friends are all putting themselves between the danger and me. The danger has to go through them before it can get to me. In amidst the static and the fear, there's a sense of warmth of what my friends are willing to do for me.

     (he came for you)

"We defend ourselves until they decide to leave. It won't take long. These attacks are usually brief."

JACK's voice buzzes with anger. "This is unacceptable. You Driftlings accept your fate too easily. You're too weak."

"We are not weak, witch," cyn(7)dar says.

"You make yourselves weaker than you should be," 2-85 says. He takes my hand, and I let him. The battle swirls around us, but none of us are under direct attack at the moment. My hand in 2-85's is more comforting than I expected. It's a protective gesture, and when I look at him, I don't know if he did it to make me feel better, or to irritate cyn(7)dar. Why my mind chooses to obsess on such things while I'm knee-deep in corpses is beyond me.

     (he stopped all the foolishness, he stole you away)

"You're prey," PIIX adds. "There's only one thing to do with prey."

cyn(7)dar is fuming. I can see it in his eyes, the way he's standing, the slight tremor in his fist curled around the cylinder of the sever-whip handle, the veins bulging down his forearms. In this moment, even his withered arm looks powerful, a tidal wave of fury only barely held in check.

This could go bad real fast. As if the half-human, half-machine abominations trying to eat us weren't enough. Glitch, life isn't ever gonna be simple is it?

I squeeze 2-85's hand before dropping it. I can see Nanzag inbound on our position. "Now's not the time for this, boys and girls."

cyn(7)dar turns away to meet the oncoming rush without saying anything else. The rest of us do the same.

"It still doesn't make any sense," JACK mutters.

I agreed. But still. "Nothing we can do about it now, JACK." I swivel my head. The static feels like something sharp loose in my skull, rolling back and forth. Glitch, we're being surrounded by Nanzag. More than before, many more. Apparently they've decided that overwhelming numbers are going to work against us. I can't disagree. They will.

"You don't understand," JACK said. "I can smell it on him. There's something he's not telling us."

"Is that true?" I ask before I can stop myself, but the truth is, I trust JACK more than him. Can't help it. Cold, but true.

"Everybody should be concentrating on protecting syl," Kiiziiziixii says just loud enough to be heard over the chaos around us, the smoke, the screams. "Talk later."

"She's right," JACK says suddenly, a strange frequency evident in her voice. "Now's not the time. I shouldn't have said that."

Seconds from engaging Nanzag again, we're going through this nonsense! What the glitch is wrong with all of us!

     (it's not them, angel, it's)

          (you)

"The witch is right," cyn(7)dar says. "I haven't told you the whole truth about the Nanzag attacks."

But he doesn't get to say more because he's fighting for his life--or maybe for mine--again against a three-armed Nanzag. 2-85 moves forward, away from me, to intercept a second Nanzag that was headed straight for me. The wet sound of combat hits me. Limbs are flying through the air, all of them Nanzag thank goodness.

Back to cyn(7)dar, and he's in trouble. He slips, going down on one knee, his sever-whip wrapped around the bent arm of the Nanzag in front of him. The Nanzag's other two arms aren't so much actual arms as they are sharpened rods. They appear to be made of flesh, but somehow the flesh is rusted, flaking and eaten away. I step over parts of fallen Nanzag, managing to keep my balance with one hand on my swelling belly, throwing my other hand out. The sever-whip slices the two spike-arms off at their bases in a shower of sparks. The Nanzag recoils, but I'm pressing the attack, feeling the static lower, as if it approves of what I'm doing, as if it wants me to, needs me to. Palm moving on control surfaces, the end of the plasma wire bends at a right angle, then plunges sideways through the Nanzag's head, puncturing both of its eyeballs. They explode in twin goopy dribbles, accompanied by the sizzling and smell of cooking meat. The Nanzag spins away, clawing at its face, doing even more damage to itself than I did, finishing the job.

"Thanks," cyn(7)dar says, already back on his feet. "But stay back behind the rest of us. You're too important to me for you to get hurt protecting me."

"I'll do what I have to," I say. And that's that.

"Not all Driftlings are weak," JACK yells back.

She heard me! Glitch her and her technosite-enhanced everything.

Kiiziiziixii cuts in front of us, fending off three Nanzag with incredibly accurate shots. Three shots, three kills. She's glitched efficient. She's a killer, that's all there is to it. My mind flashes to her kneeling and praying in the Haven. Something doesn't compute with her, but we're sorta busy right now to find out what it is. Maybe later.

Out of the immediate fray for a moment, I ask, "cyndar, tell me why the Nanzag are attacking. Tell everybody. We have a right to know."

"Yeah, you do. I was going to tell you, but I was waiting till you had more time to adjust to us."

"Fine, I'm adjusted now. Tell."

"They're attacking because they believe the Driftlings made the first aggressive move."

Still not in immediate danger. The wirewitches and Kiiziiziixii are holding the line. "Why would they think that?"

"There's a lot of eoa activity in this area. They've attacked the Nanzag."

The static rises, as if his statement should actually mean something more.

cyn(7)dar finishes: "They blame us. These attacks are revenge for what the eoas have done to them."

"That's ridiculous."

He turns away from me, and my mind tells me he was hoping for another Nanzag to fight, to distract him. "Not as much as you might think."

He's being evasive, and I'm getting angry. I let my emotion seep into my voice. "And why is that?"

When he turns back to face me, his eyes gleam in the sunlight. "Because, syl, at some level we Driftlings are responsible. After all, we created the eoas."

Post: 04.28.2005
Date: 07.05.2196
Time: Afternoon

Angel Endangered

I seriously hope nobody expects me to take this well.

My jaw doesn't drop, but it's only because I'm gritting my teeth so tight they feel like they're going to shatter. I'm tired of all of this. Finding my people hasn't been what I expected. This isn't how coming home was supposed to be. Revelation after revelation has started to wear on my psyche. You'd think I'd be used to it. You'd be wrong.

"I don't know what to say," I manage, filled to the brim with equal mixtures of anger, confusion, and shock. Maybe a little numbness.

cyn(7)dar snaps his sever-whip at an approaching Nanzag. "Neither do I. This isn't how I wanted to tell you."

"Now he smells of truth. Mostly," JACK says. "You Driftlings are full of surprises. And here I thought it was just syl."

"There's nothing I can do about what we've done," cyn(7)dar says. "It happened before any of us were born. It's in the past, and we can't change it. We can only cope with it."

"You're not out of secrets, are you?" I ask.

"No."

He didn't even hesitate. Guess I can't blame him. I have my share. So why do I want to resent him for what he's keeping from me? Right here, right in the middle of battle, right as he's protecting me, I feel the anger rising up against him. Or maybe it's the static. Whichever it is, it's real, and I can't stop it. Some part of me doesn't want to.

2-85 touches my shoulder, the static wavering under the light contact. "After," is all he says.

"Change of tactics," Kiiziiziixii orders. "Let's move her closer to the Haven. It's the most secure location in this city, and it has more defensible surroundings. Instead of protecting her on all sides, we can coordinate our attacks in fewer directions."

"Agreed," JACK says.

"I'm on point," Kiiziiziixii says.

JACK motions to PIIX and 7-07. "Help her. Clear our path."

PIIX and 7-07 move back to where Kiiziiziixii is. We begin creeping forward and then move faster. 2-85 holds back till he's even with JACK, watching our rear. Stepping over Nanzag corpses, cyn(7)dar is by my side.

"I'm sorry, syl," he says.

"Not now," I say, and I mean it. Only a few minutes ago I was in a blod (mat) ceremony, with every intention of binding myself to him. And now, I'm out here, watching him put my life ahead of his, and all I can feel is anger. I still like him. I'm still attracted to him. I'm still having his baby. But not right now. Here, in this instant, there is irritation and hurt.

     (and static)

And it's all directed at him.

     (I think)

Despite my earlier decisiveness, I'm confused about him again. It's stupid for me to feel this way right now, in the middle of all this, but I can't help it. I don't know what caused this.

     yes
     you
     do
          angel
     stop
     lying
     to
          yourself

Shouts of warning from JACK and 2-85. Another attack? An explosion of static goes off in my head, and I stumble, eyes slamming shut, almost losing the sever-whip. I fling my arms out, grabbing for anything, catching onto cyn(7)dar's shoulder. Not sure if I got lucky or if he reacted in time to anticipate my movement. Either way, I'm glad he's there to prevent me from going all the way down. His cloak prevents me from touching his skin, so the static doesn't recede. I open my eyes.

Glitch. My vision is...wavering.

There's a flurry of activity around me. Is it the Nanzag or my protectors? I can't focus long enough to tell.

"syl, are you hurt?" cyn(7)dar's voice in my ear and his hand on my shoulder steadies me.

"I don't think so," I lie. It's a lie because the static is most certainly a wound, and it's been getting worse. Still, what am I supposed to do about it? "Just let me lean on you." Something inside me cringes at saying that, admitting I need his help. It's one thing to accept his help when he offers, but it's different asking for it out loud. I'm mad at him, but I need him to take the static away. I need to touch his skin. Glitch I'm weak.

His arm goes around my waist. I manage to transfer the sever-whip to my other hand without damaging either of us. I slip an arm around his shoulders. It means he has to stoop down a little, and it's awkward. Vision dimming now, my head lolls. I can feel my muscle control slipping. Legs feel rubbery. Having trouble taking breath, as if somebody's sitting on my chest. My whole body is buzzing with static. My vision tilts. No, it's just my head falling to one side, onto his shoulder, fine, it could've been worse. I'm sending signals to my arm--the one around his shoulders--but it doesn't seem to want to obey, or maybe the commands aren't getting there. Cosmic glitch, somebody tell me what's going on! Can't remember it being this bad before. I've passed out from this static, but it's never crippled me, not like this.

I'm scared.

Just as my vision dims, I send every ounce of strength I have into a single swift muscle command. It's a feeble attempt, but it works, just barely. My arm retracts, and my fingers come into contact with cyn(7)dar's neck. WHUMP! My ears pop, my head snaps up. The world is slammed into focus, bright and real. I can breathe, I'm alive. And maintaining a death grip on cyn(7)dar's neck. God that feels better. God that feels good! I can hear my heart beating loud in my ears. There's a current of adrenaline surging through my veins. Oh wow, this is the best--even better than the last time we touched.

               (if this feels good, then imagine what

          else

     would feel good)

     (remember the island)

"Uhnng," is what comes out of my mouth, along with some slobber, as I shake that image away. "I'm not sure, but I bet this is better than dosing on Soar."

"What do you mean?" cyn(7)dar asks.

I shake my head, sending blue stands across my face. "Nothing. Forget it. I'm fine."

He doesn't respond, but I can feel his muscles tense.

I feel too good right now to care. Even though I'm right in the middle of all this, even though I'm pregnant and weighed down, I feel like I could jump ten feet in the air. Touching him like this reminds me of why I was going through with the blod (mat) ceremony.

     (selfish girl)

No, not true.

The fact that I'm having a difficult time holding onto my anger when I'm touching him like this is disturbing. I want to be mad at him--for everything. The static wants it too. But with my hand at his neck, I feel it slipping away. It only takes a second and I'm smiling, feeling it spread wide across my face. I probably look like an idiot, but the non-static buzz coursing through me doesn't give a glitch.

The Haven looms in front of us. We huddle near the entrance, my protectors now forming a semicircle around me. I'm walking under my own power now, but I'm not gonna let cyn(7)dar go just yet. He doesn't seem to be complaining--though he's not looking at me.

"Is this better?" I ask. I feel like they've backed me into a corner. Is this really a more defensible position?

Kiiziiziixii, who's right in front of me and moving forward to intercept several approaching Nanzag, calls back, "Much better." Then she launches herself into the air. Her body extends out flat, parallel to the ground, her arms straight in front of her, tracking two Nanzag. She fires three shots with each of her guns, drilling both Nanzag with three tight shot clusters to what passes for their foreheads. The backs of their heads blow out in streaks of green and black, mixed with bone and metal. The thick blobs of gore are still in the air when Kiiziiziixii curls into a tight ball, flipping over onto her back, then landing on her feet. An enormous Nanzag looms in front of her. It's the biggest one I've seen. It's a Cyclops, and its one eye fills the wide expanse of its face. The eye is so big that my mind tells me it can see behind itself; it has no blind spot. It swings a massive fist tipped with jagged metal blades, intending to decapitate Kiiziiziixii. She ducks, but it's a motion I can only describe as flinging. She flings her body down and around, the movement so fast she's blurring. The fist misses her by centimeters. As I'm taking a deep breath of relief I can see the real reason for Kiiziiziixii's strange movement. When she swung her head, her hair talons raked across the Cyclops's belly, tearing the flesh open there. Kiiziiziixii straightens up, black and red blood filtering through her hair now, great streams of blood and gore dripping down her back. The Cyclops looks down in confusion. It's wondering where all this new pain is coming from. Kiiziiziixii's body isn't quite blocking my view. I can see internal organs straining to exit the Cyclops's body through what is now only a thin mesh of lacerated skin. The Cyclops screams. Kiiziiziixii bows at the waist, sending an arc of blood right back at us and into the air, her hair talons whipping into the belly of the Cyclops once again. It's messier this time, her talons impacting with a hundred wet smacks, tearing the skin loose, digging deeper, cutting through intestine and an array of unrecognizable organs. It all comes spilling out like water from an overturned bucket, bathing her feet in a chunky, slimy pool of icky-ness. The Cyclops collapses, its scream dissolving into something partly biological and partly mechanical. Kiiziiziixii's torso pivots back up. Her hair is covered in so much blood and other fluids, all of it flowing, that the strands looks as if they're alive.

     (serpents! she has serpents for hair! stay away from her!)

Even cyn(7)dar is shocked. "You've made some interesting friends while you were away."

I can't disagree. Taking a look at things, we're holding our own. I see fewer Nanzag than before. That is, fewer Nanzag alive.

I let cyn(7)dar straighten up, even though I don't want to let go of his neck. It takes me a second to work up the courage to let go. The second my fingers leave his skin, the static slams back into me, but it's not as bad as it was before. Back to its normal level. Terrific.

Perhaps not unexpectedly, my anger at cyn(7)dar returns, as if it's tied to the static. The static is furious at him, and now I am too.

cyn(7)dar moves to join the rest of my protectors. None of them are currently being attacked, so that's good. The same can't be said of the other Driftlings. I can hear them more than see them, but I can hear wailing and shouts of pain. I hope shea(3)va is okay. Actually, I hope everybody's okay, but that's not realistic. Driftlings have died today, so not everybody's okay, glitch it.

My legs and back are hurting. Looking over my shoulder, I back up a few steps until my back is resting against the outer wall of the Haven, less than a meter from the entrance. Mind is telling me to go inside, because it's safer in there.

     (sanctuary)

"Are we winning?" I ask, though I'm not sure who the question was intended for. Really, it's a stupid question, and I wish I could take it back. Why don't I just keep my mouth shut? Simple: I'm worried. Oh, and the static is searing through me like it wants to cut me in half. Never thinking clearly when it gets like this.

"I think so," JACK says. "There aren't many of them left. The Driftlings are competent warriors it would seem."

"When they choose to be," 2-85 adds.

The static changes frequency, as if signaling something. Or maybe...

"I can see them now," JACK says. "The Nanzag are beginning to move out of the city. They are leaving. It's over."

Then the door to the Haven explodes outward, hitting JACK and cyn(7)dar, knocking them to the ground. From my angle beside the Haven entrance, I have time to see six spindly arms snake out of the opening. They grab the edges of the entrance, then pull an elongated torso out into the open. The Nanzag is moving so fast, I don't get a good look at it--blurs of sickness and disease-colored skin, along with shiny chrome glints--before two of its arms latch onto mine. I can't get the sever-whip in position in time, and I'm yanked sideways, twirled around, then tossed into the Haven. I'm dizzy and airborne

     (baby, protect the baby!!)

     for a second or two, then I'm sliding on my back across the floor. My shoulder catches and I go end-over end. As I tumble, I get quick glimpses of my hair and the necklace hanging in my vision. Then I'm on my back again, the breath knocked out of me, trying to draw my next breath. I hear noises back towards the entrance, but I'm not sure what they are. Nothing feels broken right away, so I try to sit up. Pain in my arms, and a brief glimpse to confirm: My biceps are bleeding. The sleeves of my cloak is turning wet and red in several places on each arm. Glitch, the Nanzag had spikes or blades on its fingers. Ouch.

Eyes up to the Haven entrance, where all that noise is coming from.

Nanzag inbound.

Trying to get up, but the static keeps me down, making the floor slippery. I come back down on my butt.

Framed in the light through the entrance, I can't make out details, but the Nanzag is enormous, filling the hallway we're in. Its body rips at the wall material with a soggy tearing sound that reminds me of teeth sinking into meat.

And then I can't help it, I'm screaming for my protectors, as the Nanzag reaches for my belly, where I can see that the material's been torn away, leaving a wide swatch of skin exposed and inviting.

It wants my baby.

Post: 04.28.2005
Date: 07.05.2196
Time: Afternoon

Heaven Saves Hell

The scream coming out of my mouth is uniquely mine, but it's at a higher, more-panicked pitch than I've ever heard myself produce. I sound like a small, frightened animal.

'cause that's exactly what I am.

I crawl backwards on my hands and feet and butt. With the size of my belly, it's almost impossible to lift my rear off the ground. My movement is made more difficult by the fact that I'm still holding the sever-whip in one hand. Thankfully, it's off. I don't remember deactivating it. Guess the automatic me did it. Again. Pain shoots up my arms, sourcing from where I'm bleeding. I'm keeping ahead of the Nanzag's hand by sheer force of will--that, and my terror-induced adrenaline surge. Can feel it pouring into me, like holding my mouth open for the crush of a waterfall. It mixes with the static to form a pleasure/pain mixture that numbs everything. My arms and legs are moving, but I can barely feel them now. Can't feel the wounds in my arms either.

     (protect the spark, angel, at all costs, the spark is more important than)

          (you)

I manage to stop screaming, because I think the Nanzag liked the sound I was making. It's face is still in shadow, but I got a brief glimpse of two yellow eyes, like two small bulbs.

"syl!" comes a shout from behind the Nanzag. It's 2-85. I have time to call back, "I'm here!" before suddenly, I'm pulling away from the Nanzag. It's roaring and trying to turn around in the hallway. It's failing due to its size. It's body is twice the size of a normal human and it has six arms. The rest of its body is covered with crooked pipe-like protrusions. These rusted pieces of metal are imbedded in its body at various angles, mounds of flesh encasing the base of each pipe to secure them within its body. Now, the pipes are only hindering the Nanzag, catching on the wall material, poking through it, ensnaring the creature.

I hit the end of the hallway, but I don't really feel it with the static and adrenaline burning through me; I just feel resistance and know there's a wall at my back. I push against it, transitioning my body to a standing position just as the Nanzag abandons its attempt to turn around. Apparently preventing whatever 2-85 is doing to it back there doesn't take precedence over gutting me. Looking at me again, it charges forward.

Glitch it.

No, glitch me.

Head side-to-side. Only one exit. My right. I take it, activating the sever-whip, letting it trail behind me. I move fast--faster than I think I should with a baby in my belly, but what else can I do? If this thing gets me, there's no me, no mommy. And no mommy means no baby. Hold on, little one, I'm gonna protect you as best I can, but that means it's gonna get bumpier before it gets less bumpier. Sorry, I'll make it up to you somehow. Don't be mad.

I'm in a wide open room. It's completely bare, meaning it's intended to be used for whatever need arises. Back on the island, it probably would've been used as a sleeping area, packed with bodies till it was difficult to move around without annoying or injuring somebody. But here, in the last Driftling city, there's little reason for a Haven anymore. Still, I'm glad it's here.

Would be nice if this room had another exit though. I'd probably live through this.

I spin, almost lose my balance, quick side-stepping saving me. Sever-whip arm up in front of me, plasma wire a glowing threat. There's no other way out of the room, so I have to do things this way. The messy way.

"You can't have my baby, glitcher," I shout as the Nanzag tears through the entrance to the room, slicing the wall material to ribbons.

Don't think it believes I have what it takes to back that up. Maybe it's right. That's okay, the automatic me has what it takes. I'm beginning to accept that--even if it's only because I have to.

The entire room shakes as the Nanzag frees its long body from the entangling wall material. Just it and me in the room. Can see how thick its two legs are. Muscle and peeling metal interwoven to form a new, sickly pinkish color stretched across thick muscle, sub-dermal pistons almost breaking through the skin in several places. Beneath those burning yellow eyes is a small mouth that splits open in a sudden, jagged frown. It's seen the sever-whip and it's not happy. One side of its body rears back, then the three arms on that side of its body are screaming toward me.

I'm riding the static, not fighting it, but embracing it. It doesn't hurt any less, but the conscious choice to go with its insistent flow allows me to ignore the pain, the buzz, so I can do what I need to. I pivot on one foot and jump backward. Probably looks silly, but it works, and when the sever-whip cuts upward, meeting those three descending arms, there's suddenly three fresh amputations hitting the ground with consecutive thuds. Deep down, strangely satisfying. Feeling's short-lived though. Two short steps back, amazed as the Nanzag doesn't even hesitate--that frown doesn't darken--before it rears back again, attacks again, attempting to penetrate me with those three stumps. It has to get closer, filtering through the numbing static is the strong stench of it, like wet metal and the thick body odor of something that hasn't touched water for several months. Sever-whip ascending, flaring, as if its hotter than it was a few seconds ago. As short as those three stumps are, I only barely avoid them, the sever-whip cutting through them as easily as it did before, only this time, the stumps scrape down the front of my body when they rush to meet the floor. The urge to suck my belly in as those severed body parts touch my exposed skin there is too strong. Breath comes out of me in a blast. Despite the static and the adrenaline, I'm shivering, sweating but cold. Doesn't make sense.

I sense movement behind the Nanzag, and I suspect one of my protectors is back there, doing something. Don't have time to worry about them though, because the static's telling me that I'm been a silly little youngling and that I've fallen for a very simple trick. Horror only has a moment to well up inside me before I feel the Nanzag's other three arms surround me. Pinpricks at my back become sharper, bigger, deeper, and then I'm shoved forward, right into the Nanzag's torso. Cheek to chest, the Nanzag's body is warm. The decaying metal gives slightly as the Nanzag presses me tighter, as if it's not really metal, but something with a pulse. Its skin is slightly damp, as if it too is sweating, but it's a thick sweat, and it reminds me more of a lubricant. It's smell is overpowering this close, so I hold my breath as best I can.

"syl, I'm here!" 2-85's voice calls out, but I can't really tell where he is, and I don't have the breath to respond. Is he the only one here? Where are the rest of my protectors? Where's cyn(7)dar?

The Nanzag jerks, and I have to move with it, shuffling sideways. The pain in my back increases. Mind shoots me the image of tearing flesh. Fantastic. Heat and new pain in my leg. Glitch me for a vootch, the sever-whip's still active. I'm doing damage to myself! Even though I'm pressed tight against the Nanzag, my arm still has freedom to move. I flip the switch. The heat goes away, but the pain's still there. As if I didn't have enough problems getting around while pregnant, now this?! Mind is speeding, what to do, what to do? Something's dripping down my back. Sweat or blood? The Nanzag's or mine?

I can't see it, but I think this Nanzag has a tail. The way it's moving, keeping its balance, there has to be something back there acting as a counterweight.

Then I'm being spun. I hear the sound of an impact, then a grunt from serrated vocal cords, then another impact. Then I'm lifted so my feet are off the floor. We're charging. The Nanzag seems to have forgotten about me. Doesn't make sense, but at least it's not ripping me apart yet. I struggle to turn my head. I can only move it a little, but I get a brief glimpse of 2-85 struggling to get up, entangled in his own hairstalk. He's obviously dazed. We'll be on him in two seconds. He'll be dead soon after if I don't do something.

     (so do something)

Right.

I twist my wrist and shove the end of the sever-whip handle into the Nanzag's body. Down there, where my hand is, there's not metal, but bare, unprotected skin. I flip the switch, sending the plasma wire directly into the Nanzag's body. I work the controls, imagining that glowing wire shooting out as fast as it can, straight as possible, until it pokes out the other side of the Nanzag. At that second, the static lowers, just enough to allow a short but powerful thrill to run through me. Part of me is sad I can't see the internal damage I'm doing to it.

The Nanzag releases me, mouth open in a silent scream. I keep my feet, still holding the sever-whip to the Nanzag's body, working the controls so that the plasma wire retracts a little bit, then swirls around inside. I can almost see it, melting and cauterizing organs and bones in there, only to melt them again. I look up, look the monster in the eyes. They're flickering, like the wires feeding them power aren't making good connections anymore.

"I told you, glitcher, you can't have my baby," I say. Not afraid now. Why should I be? I've won.

Instead of making a grab for me with the three arms it has left, the Nanzag backs up. I follow it for two steps, then pull back with all the strength I have. The movement is injected with all the static and adrenaline I have. The plasma wire tears the Nanzag's body open from groin to neck. It doesn't even make a sound as it dies in a massive flood of blood, bone, metal shards, and other colorful bits of innards that pour out onto the ground. I take a couple more steps back as the Nanzag deflates to the floor, limbs still twitching. It's dead, but its brain is still sending signals to any limb that'll respond. How sad.

The static drops down to a more reasonable level. I hear sounds out in the hall. My protectors are holding the enemy back out there.

Turning to 2-85, he's on all fours, shaking his head.

"Are you hurt?" I ask, kneeling down beside him. Oops, that was a mistake. Guess I'm shakier than I thought. Now I'm on my butt on the ground, legs out in front of me, propping myself up on my elbows. Actually, this position is glitched comfortable. I'm very vulnerable, but I can't bring myself to move. I flip the sever-whip switch. Plasma wire retracts.

2-85 shakes his head, his hairstalk slithering across his back, till it's touching my ankle. "Not seriously, thanks to you. But you, you're cut." Those swirling eyes are scanning down my body.

There's more pain now that the static has lessened, and my adrenaline's dropping. Endorphins are still keeping most of it at a distance though. It'll hurt more in a few minutes. "Not seriously," I say, but I'm not really sure how deep these cuts are, or how much of a  cleansing they're going to need to prevent some vicious Zomboid-borne infection.

          (zomboid? gonna call them that now, angel?)

     (just like the other younglings do?)

2-85 crawls over, till he's right beside me. I'm suddenly aware of my exposed belly, and how back on the island, back in that Haven, I'd let him see the mark on my back, let him touch me back there. His head is only centimeters from mine. This close, the grooves in his metaskin become visible, like a mysterious code that can never be cracked. There're secrets in the patterns of his skin. I swallow an urge to touch him, somewhere, anywhere, just to feel. Doesn't make any sense. Now's not the time.

"What?" I ask, staring into those stormy blue orbs of his. Why is it so hard to take a breath?

"Tell me you're not going to fuse with that Driftling."

Okay, didn't expect him to say that. "I...ah...now's not the--" I stammer.

"I know you hate me because I'm a wirewitch."

I continue to stammer and struggle for breath. "That's not--"

"I can't change what I am, or how I feel about you. I know you think my humanity's gone. But you're wrong."

"I don't know what to say." Mind's racing. My peripheral vision lets me know that his hairstalk is caressing my knees. How can he be talking about this now? The others are out there, fighting to protect us. We should be out there, fighting with them.

"I'm still human, syl. Give me a chance to prove it. You're rushing into an agreement with this Driftling, and you'll regret it."

"I made my decision. I can't go back."

"Untrue, and you know it. And I know--I know you feel something for me." The static drops down low then, because he's put a hand on my belly.

"Don't touch me," I say, though there's a part of me that wants him to ignore me.

Even though we just survived an attack, even though there's blood and guts oozing in a spreading pool less that half a meter from me, and even though we're both wounded and bleeding, I know what 2-85 is going to do next. He's so glitched predictable.

He tries to kiss me. On the lips. I twist my head away and try to push him back. He's fast, grabbing my wrist. "Stop fighting me," he grinds. "Stop fighting yourself."

"You're irritating me. You don't want to do that." The static is refusing to rise any higher for me now, all because he's still touching me. "Stop pressing me. Well talk later."

"I want to kiss you now. I don't want to wait." His face fills my vision as he tries again. I don't turn my head this time, because I've decided to bite him. His lips are coarse, but oh so warm. Too warm. The static plummets to zero, and I momentarily forget about biting him. I flash back to that Haven on the island: then, I kissed him back. I'm not doing that now, but I'm also not running away. I'm passive, unresponsive. Glitch, what am I doing? I pull my lips back, freeing my teeth, taking his lower lip between my incisors. He lets me. I stare into his eyes, where the patterns there spin and whirl like cyclones. I'm a nanosecond away from biting down when I sense that we're not alone. Teeth still gripping the warlock's lip, eyes pan to the side.

Cloak matted black with Zomboid blood, sever-whip burning the floor material, cyn(7)dar stands framed in the ruined doorway.

Post: 04.28.2005
Date: 07.05.2196
Time: Afternoon

Peril Repulsed, Vow Rejected

"Get away from her, warlock!" cyn(7)dar orders, but he's not waiting for 2-85 to move. Instead, he's forcing the issue.

It's then that I see it, clear in cyn(7)dar's eyes. He's mostly mad at me, but he's going to take it out on 2-85. He's going to hurt him. With his sever-whip.

I can't let that happen.

cyn(7)dar bearing down on us, he has to navigate around the remains of the Zomboid, so I have the time to do what I'm gonna do. I release 2-85's lip. A small part of me whines because it still wants to bite into that rough flesh, draw just a little blood, let him know that I'm upset, regardless of the fact that I'm about to save his life again. Shifting my weight, I slide a hand--ouch, arm doesn't like that--around to the back of his head and grab that off-center hairstalk of his. The movement is far too intimate for my current state of mind, but it's all I can think of to do. "Don't say a glitched word, or that's the last kiss you'll ever take from me," I whisper-growl, immediately knowing my choice of words implies something I didn't want, then I yank his head to the side. He doesn't fight me, and I pull harder, farther, pulling him onto his side, then onto his back. It hurts, but I follow him with my body, rolling with him, onto him. My belly gets in the way. Still, I manage to swing my leg over so that I'm straddling him. One of my hands on either side of his shoulders, then I lean forward. Belly's makes that difficult, but I push forward and curve my back so that I'm hunched over his body, covering as much of it as I can. My hair's hanging down into his face. I realize that the static's back full force, so I move my right hand so I can finger his hairstalk. Bundled wire under my fingerprints. Down goes the static. Much better. I turn my head to look at cyn(7)dar, who's standing over us. I feel his gaze like it has a physical weight to it.

"What are you doing, syl?" cyn(7)dar asks from above us.

What the glitch does it look like I'm doing? "Turn that glitched thing off," I say, letting my eyes flick to his sever-whip. It's sparking against the floor, almost like it's anticipating something.

"You're protecting him."

I can't help it; I let my cheek fall against 2-85's in frustration. He's holding his breath. Is he doing that on purpose? "Of course I'm protecting him. He's my friend."

"I saw what he was doing to you."

"You don't know what you saw, cyndar. What you saw--it was nothing important."

     (say it again, angel)

"It looked like he was hurting you."

Through my cheek, I sense 2-85's jaw about to go into action. "Don't even think about it," I say against him, the friction of his textured skin against mine a huge distraction. He blows out a breath, which slides across my lips like a wet finger. I actually shiver. Closing my eyes and reopening them real quickly lets me regain my concentration. Looking back up at cyn(7)dar I say, "He wasn't hurting me. He was..."

"He was what?"

"None of your business," I settle on, but it's the wrong thing to say.

"Considering our relationship, I think who's pressing their mouth to yours is my business, syl."

I could argue with that, but I'd just be acting stubborn at this point. "Fine. Are you going to use that sever-whip on me now? Because that's what it's gonna take if you want to use it on 2-85."

His head bows. "No. Of course not."

"Then flip it." The static's low, but I'm able to maintain just enough of my anger at cyn(7)dar to glare at him. "What were you going to do with that?"

He's immobile, his eyes flicking from my face to the warlock underneath me. He still debating something. He's still considering violence. Can't get it out of his head. It's jealousy. It's gotta be. Glitch, I'm not sure what I can do about that. Back's hurting more now, and my knees are starting to tingle. I relax a little, letting more of my weight rest on 2-85. I'm full against him now, and I can only imaging what it looks like to cyn(7)dar. My cloak obscures most of me, but that probably just makes it look worse.

"I love you," he says, finally. The plasma wire retracts, dimming as it goes. The sever-whip disappears underneath his cloak.

"I know," I say, pushing back. Ah, that's better, straightening my back and shaking my arms, still straddling 2-85, I will the color out of my cheeks, but then I realize my hand is still holding his hairstalk, thumb rubbing up and down, feeling those hyper-smooth wires. Hmm, don't want to let go. The static's still there, low and quiet, but it's ready to come back the second I break contact. Now that it looks like death isn't imminent, maybe I can just hold onto it for the rest of the day. God, I'm weak.

I twist, swinging my leg over. Mind tells me it's a dismount, and I don't like what that implies. Come around onto my butt, legs wide, accommodating my belly, one hand back behind me for stability, one hand still caressing the hairstalk. Don't even have to look at cyn(7)dar to know what this looks like to him. Do I care? Audibly sighing, I'm not sure.

     (don't do it)

I drop the hairstalk. Static ramps back up, but it's nowhere near as bad as it was before. Still, I can't help it; I grimace in pain. "Are the Zomboids gone?" I ask through gritted teeth. The sound of 2-85's hairstalk slithering away rings in my ears.

cyn(7)dar kneels down. "The Haven is safe now. The modie and the witches ran a quick sweep."

"Where are they now?" I ask. I'd feel better if JACK were here. In theory, I'm well-protected with 2-85 and cyn(7)dar defending me, but there's too much tension between the three of us for me to be at ease.

"Right here," says JACK, stepping into the room. "We're all alive. No injuries worth mentioning. The Nanzag have retreated beyond the borders of the city. Some of the Driftlings warriors are pursing, but most are tending to the wounded and dead here." Her voice changes as she asks, "What's wrong?"

Plenty, but I don't say it out loud. I want to cry. I want to mourn. I want to get away from everybody. I need some time alone again. Time to think. About my heritage. about my future. About myself. About cyn(7)dar. About 2-85. About Ph--

No. Not him. He's irrelevant. He's null to me.

     (you) (left) (him) (angel) (guilty?)

No. He hurt me the most of anybody. I offered. He refused. He wanted--

          (you)

--nothing, and he got exactly that. If there was anything--not that there was--it's over, and even if I was pathetic enough to want something more, I don't have a way of contacting him. He's forgotten about me already anyway, so leave me alone.

     (...)

I have to walk out of here, and I'm not sure I can do it on my own. Probably could, but I'm tired and hurt. "Nothing's wrong, JACK, but can somebody help a pregnant girl to her feet?"

2-85 and cyn(7)dar reach for me at the same time. There's a brief silence where the two stare each other down. I can't help it, looking back and forth between them. I laugh. They both frown deeper. "Just lift me up. Both of you. Avoid the arms please." They do, and once I'm on my feet I walk over to JACK. "Get me out of here. I don't want to be near either of them," I whisper.

JACK makes some gesture with her fingers that freezes 2-85 in his place. cyn(7)dar just chooses not to move.

As we exit the Haven, the sun is filtering through smoke now, illuminating the city with soiled light. We walk, trailing the rest of the coven and Kiiziiziixii behind us. There's no danger now; all of the Zomboids in the city are dead, scattered across the landscape like discarded garbage. There are Driftling bodies too, crumpled and motionless, some of them more parts than whole bodies. None of them are moving.

shea(3)va and van(9)nis run up to us. They look dirty and tired, but not wounded. shea(3)va enfolds me in a warm hug. "syl, you're hurt," she says, pulling my cloak off of me, casting sharp glances at the soaked material on my arms. "Let's take you back to my place and get you cleaned up. These cuts could be infected. The Nanzag carry many diseases. These wounds are not deep, but they may be serious."

"You should see the other guy," I say. "His wound is deep and serious."

"Nothing ever keeps Athara-Meeatora down," van(9)nis says.

"You know she hates it when you call her that," shea(3)va says, slapping him on the shoulder.

"I know," he says, swatting her on the rear. She squeaks. And it's a good squeak. There's a lot wrong with the world, but there's also some right with it. I can't help but smile.

Maybe I do hate being call that. Too tired, too static-abused to decide right now.

I look around as we begin to walk again. "How bad is it?"

"Could have been worse," shea(3)va says. "We won't have an actual number for some time, but I'd estimated we had about fifty casualties. At least triple that many are wounded. Some of them won't make it."

"Glitch," I mutter, and then a tear escapes.

"Nothing you could have done about it, syl," shea(3)va says, arm around my waist. "You survived. We survived. That's what's important at this point. That's all we can ask of ourselves. We always save as many as we can."

"It's so senseless." I'm not going to ask her whether the Driftlings are responsible for the eoa attacks. Did they really start this? No gonna ask. Not today at least.

"The Driftlings have always been hunted. This is nothing new. There are so few of us left. We have few options. Perhaps only one: survival."

I don't have an answer for her, so I let it go. I keep my eyes on the ground right in front of me as we walk so I don't have to see the destruction and blood all around us.

When we arrive, shea(3)va bans all males, including van(9)nis, from her dwelling, and ushers me inside and into her private bath area. We enlist JACK's help to remove the cov (rin). It's a delicate procedure at times because of my wounds. When my biceps are finally uncovered, I see ragged punctures, leaking red, obscuring parts of my markings. Glitch, those are gonna scar. They ease me into shea(3)va's personal bath and wash my wounds. The static lowers as they cleanse my skin, allowing me to feel the pain more clearly. Better than the static though. The blood turns into a murky, black and red mixture that forces us to drain and refill the bath. JACK and shea(3)va take quick water showers while I soak and relax. I allow my mind to drift, and I close my eyes. I can't help it. I think about cyn(7)dar the entire time. Definitely not as relaxing as it should be.

My two friends, wrapped in thick towels, kneel on either side of me, beside the bath. JACK combs my hair while shea(3)va applies a salve to my biceps.

"You have a problem, don't you?" shea(3)va asks.

"What are you going to do about it?" JACK asks.

I look at both of them in turn. "What are you two talking about?"

"syl, be honest with me," shea(3)va says.

"I can tell when you are lying," JACK says, running a hand through my hair. "By the way, your hair is getting longer. It's nice."

"Can you be specific? I have more than one problem in my life. How am I supposed know which one you two are referring to?"

     (you know, angel)

          (they're your friends so stop stalling and)

               (talk to them)

"So stubborn," shea(3)va chides, "just like I remember." She smiling, but she's patronizing me. Great, I don't deserve this, do I?

"cyndar," JACK says.

"W-What about him?" Glitch, stammering about him is admitting they're right. Glitch!

shea(3)va's eyes turn serious and her smile disappears. "I saw it before--on your face and the way you move--but I didn't say anything. Maybe I should have. I thought I was being your friend, and I was, but maybe I wasn't being your true friend."

"sheava, what the glitch are you talking about?"

"Glitch, syl, you're making me say it so you don't have to!"

     (don't let her)

"Say anything you want," I say. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine, I'm going to say it, because maybe then you'll open up. Here it is. Here's your problem: You don't love cyndar, and despite all the things you said to us before, you're not going to go through with the blod (mat) ceremony."

It only takes a second for tears to overwhelm me, because, God glitch me, I think she's right.

this page and its contents copyright (c) by ethan a. cooper