GOD
My eyes are crusted with shed tears as I slowly open them to the overcast light from the pulled blinds. Bedding presses softly to my back, the sheets covering me nearly to my chin.
“The fuck?” I whisper, blinking my eyes to take in the room.
My bedroom.
I sit up slowly, no longer feeling the stabbing pain from the night previous. My skin feels smooth when I reach behind to palpate along where I know there had been bandages. Hell, I’m even dressed down in a white sports bra and—
And just underwear.
My heart starts to thrum again as I pat at my neck to find no evidence of where the knife had pierced my skin.
Mind racing, I try to recall last night. The voices had been so damned loud. They’d been so insistent. And they’d been so right, too.
Why hadn’t I done it?
I push back the covers and swing my legs over the edge. The floorboards feel cool as I pad back into the kitchen.
Except there’s no glass. No evidence of my malpractice. Nothing to suggest that I’d lost control.
There aren’t any knives in the block.
The couch looks unruffled. The trash holds no bloodied bandages, nothing to even remotely show that last night had been anything but a fevered dream.
My phone lights up on the kitchen table and I cross the kitchen to grab it. The first thing I notice is that the battery is fully charged, despite the device being nowhere near my charger. The second is the notification at the top of the screen.
A summons. One I’d been desperately hoping would never show up again.
Nothing from Percy. Not even a single noticeable sign that she’d even been here last night—that she now knew everything.
Though why would she? If last night had actually happened, then it’s more than likely she’ll turn me in.
Hell, it’s a wonder the NCPD isn't busting down my door as I stand here dumbfounded in my kitchen.
And where the fuck are my knives?
Growling, I stalk back to my bedroom and throw on a sweater and a pair of sweatpants before making my way back out of my apartment. The early morning light cuts through the overcast sky, making it a little less dreary than normal.
And the shadows aren’t nearly as plentiful this early in the morning.
For now, at least.
The garish building comes into sight when I round the corner of the underground auto-tram exit.
It’s in the same style as the other buildings, but the extremely large “GOD” signage glows with the red Affliction that powers it. The sloping copper roof meets the stonework with traces of gears and other powered implements crisscrossing down to ground level.
I move along the street until I find an empty alley. Glancing around, I only see a few people on the sidewalk. And neither of the two women on the other side of the road, nor the two couples beside me pay me any mind as I cut into the back passage.
Shadows envelop me and I reach into the darkness. The pocket dimension tucked in whatever shadow-verse I have access to responds and I pull out my mask and cloak.
Within a few seconds, I shadow-step to the roof of the G.O.D. building and walk into the next shadow. And the next.
“Where are they?” a gruff voice echoes from the meeting hall at the top floor of the building.
“I don’t know,” Agent Zero says neutrally, his voice modulated by the reflective mirror helmet. His outfit always looks especially like Omen’s to me, but no one else apparently saw fit to let him know.
I fall through the shadows in the rafters and land lightly on the metallic floor. Several of nearest Guild members startle and a few choice words are shot my way.
I look up and glance around at the other attendees, frowning as I see a few big hitters.
At the head of the long meeting table is The Angel. His Tier 4 status puts him somewhere in the upper fifties as far as power, but he's one of the few lackeys that the corporate folk trust to be in charge.
Along the floor-to-ceiling windows that surround the room is Umbral in his dark clothes and exceptionally stupid-looking top hat and face mask, Tyrant in his large green-grey jacket, epaulettes, and crown, and Harlot wearing almost nothing but the skimpy dress.
She, of course, looks totally unbothered by the power culminating in the room.
The rest of the faces, or rather masks, aren’t people I recognize, but I generally don’t pay much attention to new Remnants these days.
“Ah,” the Angel says, his rumbling voice echoing across the silent room. “The guest of honor has finally deigned to join us.”
Darkness settles around me, wisps tracing off into the upper reaches of the room.
“I don’t usually answer summons, but I suspect you wouldn’t contact me for nothing,” I respond, my voice tight. It is not a great day to fuck with me, and I desperately hope this guy gets the message.
Evidently, he does not because he scoffs before gesturing to a seat near a group of Remnants I don’t recognize.
“Reports suggest Bloody Mary has been sighted in New Chicago,” Angel says, looking around at us behind his blank white mask.
The thing fits directly onto his face as if it’s sewn there.
“We’ve activated our cells in the other city-states as well as let those G.O.D.
sites know about a possible impending attack, but nothing has come to fruition yet. ”
A flush of whispers sound around me. Not the spirit kind, but of the gossip variety. The Remnant directly beside me whispers something about “being fucked” to their compatriot. The other Remnant nods fervently.
If Bloody Mary, whoever she or it is, is in town, then there’s nothing we can do to stop her. Nothing I can do. Nothing this band of idiot misfits can do.
Bloody Mary is a godlike being compared to us mere mortals, even if I’m third on the list. There's an ocean between us.
“I’m giving this meeting five minutes to become interesting before I go,” I say over the din. “I’m not here for Guild business.”
The silence that follows is so intense I look around to see if someone’s powers are involved. But only the Angel looks back, his masked face tilted a little as if in disbelief. The others drop their eyes to the tables in front of them or each other.
“How about this, then,” he grits out. “Titan’s body was found in an alleyway near Old Chicago.
Punctured, sliced to bits, and dropped near a handful of defected G.O.D.
members and known criminals. Triggerman, Cellblock, Torch, and Nick Frost were also killed.
NCPD is currently calling it Remnant gang violence, but I suspect someone here will know more. ”
I scoff and cover it far too slowly with a cough.
All eyes fall on me now, even those who had tried to ignore me when I first arrived.
“Someone’s name is actually Nick Frost?” I ask, wondering why no one else finds it hilarious. Hell, this is the first time I’ve genuinely smiled in the last twenty-four hours.
“Was,” the Angel corrects. “You, Umbral, Harlot and Tyrant are here because clearly someone’s out killing high ranking Remnants and we need to know who and why.
First Fyre, now Titan. Of course neither were members of the Guild of Defenders, but we can’t have someone that powerful crusading around without cause. ”
“Without cause?” I ask incredulously. “Titan was a psychopath. The guy thought he was the manifestation of an ancient god for Christ’s sake.”
“And the Guild has rules about when those Remnants are brought to justice,” the Angel grits out. “DAEMON guidelines dictate that—”
“Oh, fuck off with the guidelines,” I groan, standing. “I killed Titan. I killed the other four, too. Hell, I even told Triggerman to leave it alone, but he didn’t.”
The room falls back into the exceptionally tense silence.
“You killed Titan?” the Angel asks, his voice somewhat hollow. Previous bravado now replaced with trepidation. “How?”
I stand still, staring back at him. None of the Remnants in this room know each other’s identities. Even amongst monsters, no one here is really a friend.
“Easily,” I say, then manifest the shadow around me. “You can tell Damien Roberts that if he has an issue with my form of justice, he’ll have to take it up with me himself.”
I give Harlot a small wave before disappearing back into the shadows.
New Chicago’s overcast sky makes traversing through shadows incredibly easy.
But these very same shadows hold relentless whispers.
They hold the damned. And even standing here on the rooftop of one of the largest skyscrapers in the city, I can see them.
They’re like this perverse mind game where if you stare long enough, you can see their faces.
But if you give the shade a quick glance, you might be convinced the window just had a face-shaped smudge on it.
Like pareidolia on steroids.
But it’s never just a face-shaped smudge. It’s never just a mind game.
They’re there. And God, are they louder than ever.
“You sure do like to make an entrance,” a feminine voice cuts through the quiet morning.
I turn to see Harlot making her way across the rooftop. Her sheer dress shows the dark patterning of her bra and underwear. Her auburn hair hangs loose down her shoulders and her heavily lidded brown eyes watch me imperiously. She quirks an eyebrow as she approaches.
“Aren’t you cold?” I ask, rather than acknowledging her jab.
“This isn’t my real skin,” she shrugs.
“That’s such a disconcerting thing to say, you know,” I snort, looking down into the city. Out of my periphery, I can see her watching me.
She grins, but the smile fades into something that I might believe is “softness” if I didn’t know any better.
“Are you seeing anyone?” she asks suddenly, her eyes still staring into the side of my head.
I finally turn to her and realize she can’t see the incredulous look on my face.
“You don’t know my name, the full extent of my powers, what I look like, or what my gender even is.”
“The same goes for me,” she says with a crooked smile. “I just think that anyone who could kill Titan is probably hotter than the sun.”
This time I do laugh out loud. I laugh so hard that I have to rest my hands on my knees to wheeze out.
“Oh,” she snorts, too, “knock it off. Can’t blame me for wondering.”
After a few short seconds I straighten and let out another chuckle.
“I am not,” I say, looking down into her brown eyes. “And I appreciate the compliment. But I don’t know that you want anything to do with me.”
“Why’s that?” she asks, her full lips quirking again. “You have some dark secret?”
“Don’t we all?” I ask before pointing down into the shadows gathering near the entrance to the lower floors. “You see that shadow?”
She nods, following my finger.
“There’s at least two figures staring back at me. One of them I think was murdered, but he’s not very clear on it. He’s actually just yelling slurs at me. The other one was hit by a car on her way to work last month.”
Harlot’s eyes go from soft confusion to downright concern as she looks back at me.
“It’s not a dark secret, it’s that my fucking mind is going to let go before anything else. It’s that I’m probably not long for this world. Either because I’m going to end it myself or because someone stronger than me is going to take my power as a challenge. And strong or not, I’m not invincible.”
“Well, that’s somewhere between harrowing and downright devastating,” she says after a few seconds of silence. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t get soft on me now,” I say, hoping my tone comes across as I want it to. “You’re one of the few I actually like here.”
We stand in comfortable silence for a long time. Harlot had always been someone I could at least rely on to get her job done. Early on after I’d woken up outside New Chicago, she’d been one of the few to really give me the time of day.
Her powers are less than concrete. There's shapeshifting and mind control involved, but she’s never been open about them. That's just how this world works. Even if I looked her up in RISE, it'd probably be something confusing and openly misogynistic.
That’s just how things are for a powerful female Remnant.
“Would you change it if you could?” she asks suddenly. “Being a Remnant, I mean.”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “I’d change all of it. I don’t even remember my own Infliction.”
Getting rid of my nightmares? No more voices? No more shadows? There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to be human.
“Don’t let them make you feel different,” she says finally. “Don’t let them make you feel like you’re not just as worthy of love.”
I turn to her, finding her looking off into the distance with a soft expression.
“That was sappy,” I say, not sure how to respond to that. “Didn’t take you for the type.”
She glares at me, but it doesn’t have a lot of fire.
“I know what this world does to us. I know what our powers do to our minds. I get it. But if you let them take everything from you, if you let them decide how you’re going to live, you’re nothing but the tool they want you to be.
You’re nothing but the propaganda they spread. ”
She gives me another genuinely warm grin before squeezing my bicep softly.
“By the way,” she says, seemingly not expecting me to respond to her advice. “You missed the part of the meeting where Angel said some NCPD detective is marching up to DAEMON’s doorstep this afternoon.”
My heart thuds to a sudden stop, almost dropping entirely out of my chest.
“Figured you might want to know,” she says before walking back off to the stairs.
I check the display of my mask, but there’s nothing from Percy.
The fucking idiot is confronting the most powerful corporation on the planet on her own.