Being autistic does not mean I do not have empathy. If I did not understand how others were feeling, and empathize with them, I would not be able to be a very good lover to Sora, or a good friend to Exusiai. I struggle to understand emotions, yes, especially my own. Social cues are hard for me. Talking is hard. But I can do these things.
However, I did not have Empathy. Now I do. It is…different. I cannot feel Exusiai’s emotions. She has…a scar. It hurts to…not look at. Feel. It is like…like looking at someone who has been blinded, and feeling sorrow they can no longer see. Only…more. I do not have the words. Even now.
I can feel what Odda feels. Right now, he is very angry. I think he is angry much of the time. Exusiai has been captured, along with Fiametta. We have had to retreat. I am ready to go in there and get Exusiai out. She is one of my oldest and best friends. I love her like a sister. We are famiglia.
However, that is not what the mission is. My honor is once more at war within me. I look to Doktah to tell me what to do.
Thankfully, they do.
“Well, that’s that trap sprung. Let’s see if they take the bait, or realize that I did that deliberately,” Doktah says once we have lost our pursuit. It was not easy. Several Sankta are dead, though I have not Fallen. I am not certain why. Perhaps because I did not shoot them myself. I used other ways. Odda’s halo and wings are intact as well. If Skalter’s were real, they would not be.
We are hiding in a grove of trees on a farm 1.2 kilometers from Laterano’s walls. It is very similar to Siracusan farms in style, but they grow sugar beets here. There is a large apiary for honeywings as well. Their buzzing is constantly in the background, but they do not bother us.
“You did that on PURPOSE!? You got Exusiai captured INTENTIONALLY?! What the FUCK, Doktah!? You’re not still crazy like Wisadel says, are you!?” Odda snarls, his gun appearing in his hands.
I am not concerned, but Skadi puts herself between Odda and Doktah. “Be careful of your words, and where you direct your weapons, little messenger,” she hisses, her pupils changing to the black void of an ocean predator.
“It’s fine, dear,” Doktah says, putting a hand on her shoulder and stepping up. They nod to Odda. “I did. There are a few things I don’t think our enemy knows. One of them is that Exusiai is carrying an antidote to their mind control. I’m not sure how effective it will be. My analysis indicates that it will be less potent than the originium directly bestowed by Amiya, but we shall see. It might be enough to disrupt their plans, however. Also, I do not think they are aware of Mon3tr. My granddaughter is quite capable of keeping Exusiai, and Fiametta, safe. This was the optimum strategy.”
Odda’s face is flushed, and his emotions are…confusing. A swirl of anger, hope, nervousness, and…lust? Hmm. I think he gets horny when he thinks about Exusiai. Understandable. She is quite attractive.
However, I can also feel the love. The deep, abiding affection. The desire to protect. The longing to be with her. I am a little surprised. Odda has known Exusiai for some time, yes. But they have not been lovers for long. Then again, neither were James and Lucia. And I know they love one another. I suppose I should not be so surprised. Odda is a good man. If an angry one.
“So we are just pieces on a game board to you,” Odda growls. He turns towards the city. “Fine. Well, I’m not leaving my girlfriend to be some pawn in your scheme.”
Odda turns to trek back to Laterano, which will involve crossing a major road and exposing himself to the ongoing search. He is a messenger, however, and like me, used to getting into places without being seen.
“There’s a better way. But you’re going to have to trust me, Odda,” Doktor says in their quiet way.
Odda turns around, and I can feel the pain radiating from him. It makes me need to catch my breath, he hurts so badly. “Doktah…you won’t betray us again, right? Not like…not like before. The Oracle…”
“Is dead,” Doktah says, and nods to Skalter, who grins, showing too many teeth.
“Party of our marriage agreement! My beloved has forsaken all past lives, as have I! We have both been reborn. They as the Doctor of Rhodes Island, and I as Skalter. Not Precursor, not Seaborn, not alien, not Aegir. What we were before is dead and buried beneath the waves.”
Odda takes a deep breath, and a bit of the pain recedes. He nods. “Alright. I’ll trust you. One last time…I’ll put everything in your hands. It’s the only way to save the woman I love, isn’t it?”
“It’s the path with the most positive outcomes, I think. There might be other ways. Amiya and I have talked. But this way…this way I think we have the best chance to save the most lives. Including Exusiai’s,” Doktah states. “Right. Here’s how we get back into the city.”
They produce a digital tablet, and show us various routes in. “Priestess knows I’ve married Skalter. She’s expecting us to take the water route in, via sewers or aquaduct. It’s a reasonable assumption, and we’ve made some attacks on those to act as a distraction. The gates are out as well. So, where does that leave us?”
“Smugglers,” I say instantly. “Every city has them. But where are they?”
Doktah taps the air in front of their mask. “Mostima knew. As a Fallen, she had to have ways of getting in and out of the city that were unofficial. And, of course, there is crime in Laterano. Not much, and not the violent kind. But there’s plenty of illegal smuggling. Especially of people. Laterano has the best public healthcare in the world, and the strongest welfare system. No one dies of preventable disease or goes hungry.”
“At the cost of being a second-class citizen below the damn angels,” Odda growls, then starts. “Of which…I’m one, now.”
“Better than dead,” I say with a shrug. “Alright. So we get in. Here.”
I point at the display, and Doktah turns it to regard it more closely. Skalter seems uninterested in this exchange, humming softly to herself as she often does, and rocking bath and forth. It is soothing. Too much so. Arts in that.
“Texas how…that’s the entrance I picked out with Amiya and Skalter’s help after hours of deliberation. You just identified it instantly.”
I try to flick an ear at him. Can’t. Try winking. Doesn’t feel right. Shrug instead, and point to features. “Feels right. Good angles. Isolated. Industrial. Not much foot traffic. Noisy too. Good place for smuggling.”
Odda studies the map as well. “This would have been my first pick, but Texas’ choice is probably better. You get a feel for which routes into a city are going to cause the least fuss. Only problem I’d see here is how much we have to bribe the people who control it.”
“But we won’t go in there,” Skalter says, her eyes closed as she tilts her head towards the still shining sun.
I frown at her and cock my head to one side, but Doktah nods.
“Right. Priestess will identify the same place as the best to enter. So we’re not going in through the best smuggling route. We’re going in through the one Odda picked. The second best. The one Priestess isn’t as likely to have trapped and guarded.”
“I see,” I say, and nod. It makes sense. I think. This is much too complicated for me. Plans. Counter plans. Counters to the counter plans. This is the sort of thing Lappland enjoys. I just go straight through. Simpler. Less chance for mistakes.
But that is why the Doktah is in charge, and not me. I am the knife. They are the hand that guides me.
The farm we are at happens to be the entrance to the second-best smugglers' route. I do not think this is an accident. Doktah was always very good at maneuvering.
The buzzing of the honeywings masks our approach. There are workers here. All Sankta, of course. I wonder if they can feel us at this distance. I do not have a good feel for how Empathy works, yet. But no. We are too far. I keep my mind as empty as possible anyway. Suppress my emotions. Odda seems to sense what I am doing. He tries to do the same. He is not very good.
It is alright. This was something I learned. Trained. It took two masters to find one that understood. Most Siracusans kill when their blood is up. They fight with fire. Passion. I do not. I put all of my emotions into a box, and lock them away when I fight. Or at least, I try to. Sometimes I fight with fire. Usually, when I am fighting Lappland. She is good at provoking me.
Odda fights with passion, I think. It is not a worse way, or a better way. Just different.
There are two farmhands guarding the shed where the entrance is. They are doing a bad job. One is smoking. The other is drunk. They are more interested in chatting than in watching. Maybe they are maintaining cover. I do not think so. They are just lazy.
“Not professionals. Can take them out, easily,” I say quietly. We are on our bellies in the tall grass near the shed. I do not whisper. Whispers carry. Speak softly, in a normal voice. Less obvious.
“No. There’s another way,” Doktah whispers. I suppress a sigh. They cannot be good at everything.
Skalter starts humming again. Then singing. She puts her hand on my back as she does so, and I shudder slightly. It is like she is singing through me. Through my Empathy. She urges me forward, and I cannot help but obey. It is as though I am compelled. This disturbs me. I do not like the feeling of lacking control.
As we get closer, the guards look around, confused.
“You hear that?” the smoker asks, lowering his cigarette.
“Huh?” the drunk mumbles, but he’s perked up and looking around.
After a few moments, their alertness vanishes. They slump, eyes glazing over. Skalter rose up to her knees, beckoning to the guards.
Come hither to me, angel sweet
Come to my side, angel now
I have a kiss for you, a kiss so sweet
The two guards tottered over, then slumped to their knees. I watched, fascinated, as Skalter kissed them both full on the lips. She seemed to relish it, and there was tongue involved. Tongue and…other things. I felt sick. Something had slithered down the guards’ throats.
She is never allowed to kiss Sora.
This is generally true of everyone but me.
It is especially true for Skalter.
“Whom do you keep watch for?” Skalter asked, as the two guards straightened.
“…Legatus,” the taller mumbled.
“You do not watch at the behest of the witch of the stone?” Skalter pressed.
“...we watch for Legatus,” the guard repeated. “Capo says so.”
I wanted to flatten my ears at that, but since I had only one set, I simply looked around, then asked, “Siracusan?”
“Famiglia Genovese,” the second one confirmed.
Made sense. Genovese were in the sugar business. Very popular in Laterano.
“You have joined the family of the Ones Who are Many. You will keep watch, on behalf of my Beloved, and when the time comes, lead your fellows in the Song,” Skalter ordered.
“We listen,” the guards said together.
After that, we went into the shed. Down a ladder, there was a tunnel. Small rail cars and LED lights at the bottom. Good for smuggling people or goods.
We follow the tunnel for 1500 meters underground. It is narrow, and we must lie on our bellies, pulled along by small electrical motors. I hear the whir and hiss of pumps, and feel fresh air. That is good. The Genovese have ventilated their tunnel properly. They know what they are doing.
We emerge to find another guard. Their eyes go wide when they see me emerge first, and they open their mouth. I am up out of the tunnel and have them pinned to the wall, Dark Chocolate pressed to their chin before they can sound the alarm. I do not move as fast now. Slower. Sankta arts are not well suited for melee combat. This is made up for by the fact I can…hear…Blueberry and Dark Chocolate. They have always been a part of me. Now, I can feel them.
“Do not make a sound,” I tell the guard. They nod frantically, swallowing. I can feel their terror. They can feel my determination. It is odd. But not a problem.
Skalter sings to the guard, then lightly kisses him. His eyes cloud over, and I feel the shift in his Empathy this time. It is…changed.
“...I hear…the song. The Many…” the guard croaks.
“Yes. You will join the Harmony. Prepare yourself, for when the time comes,” Skalter whispers, and the guard nods before returning to their post.
While Skalter was brainwashing the guard, I was examining the street. We were in an industrial part of the city near the walls. However, it was too quiet. There should have been the sound of hammers. Engines roaring. The hum of originium generators. There was nothing. Too many buildings with too many dark alleyways.
“This facility is under observation,” I inform Doktah as they come over to examine the street with me.
“How many?” they ask, not questioning me. I appreciate the trust, but I am nervous.
“I am uncertain. I would estimate multiple foes, observing this sector and on standby act on any incursions,” I state.
“Then we hold tight. The others will draw them off. I’ll hack into their network. Priestess always was bad about changing her passwords,” Doktah says, and pulls out a tablet.
It is tense in the smugglers' warehouse. There are crates and barrels of what I assume is illegally imported honey and sugar. There is not much to do, nor many creature comforts. Odda and I patrol, while Skalter sits with the Doktah, draping herself over him. The Genovese guard rocks back and forth, standing in their place, uninterested in anything else.
One hour passes. Then another. There is an explosion in the city. I go on alert, Blueberry and Dark Chocolate at the ready. This feels like Exusiai. I grip my weapons, sniffing the air. My nose is not as sensitive as before, which frustrates me. I strain my ears as well, trying to detect anything.
Then, movement. I was right. There were multiple cohors lying in ambush. They move off at a run towards what is now clearly an ongoing disturbance in the city. Doktah is examining a tablet.
“Looks like everything is in place,” they say, standing. They nod to me. “We need to move. All four of us. Quickly, and quietly. I’ve been monitoring the Laterano net: most of the guards keeping an eye on this place are gone. There are blindspots, which I’ve highlighted on the PRTS for you.”
I pull mine up, and information floods in. Doktah has accurate numbers of our remaining foes. There are still a dozen trained cohors. If they are alerted to us, this could lead to failing mission parameters.
I look to Odda. “Can you move quietly?”
“Stealth isn’t my first choice, but I’m quiet when I need to be,” he says, and pulls out a knife. “Awaiting orders, Doktah.”
Doktah gives Odda and I a path. We’re working in tandem as a team, not lone wolf operatives. We manage to use a blindspot in the enemy’s lookout positions to sneak to a nearby structure, then scale it. It’s another warehouse, though it’s not rotting or decaying as one in Siracusa would be. It’s made of whitewashed brick, which is very easy to scale. We soon spot two Sankta, hidden near a fire escape. One with a long rifle, the other with a radio and binoculars.
“Radio is more dangerous. I’ll take them,” I say quietly. “No noise. Leave bodies in place. In and out.”
Odda nods, and grips the knife.
Killing the two Sankta is…brutal. I feel them die. I feel their terror, right before my knife goes in their throat. I muffle the gurgling screams with my hand, but I feel their fear and pain as life ebbs from them. Then, I gently set the body back in position, wiping away excess blood so that a casual observer will not notice they are dead.
I go to a corner of the roof, and vomit noisily. Odda is not far behind me. When I am done, I wipe the bile from my mouth. I have not thrown up after a kill since…I do not remember. I had a sense of revulsion to my first kills. But not the point of physical illness.
“That was…fuck,” Odda gasps. He nods to my halo. “Yours… it's still there.
“Didn’t shoot them. Law is explicit: No shooting. Didn’t say no stabbing,” I say with a shrug, forcing down my disgust and panic.
Odda grimaces. “There’s…there’s 10 more. I don’t-fuck.”
“If we don’t, Exusiai is in danger. We must move,” I tell him.
He winces, and nods. “Yeah. You’re right.”
It is a grueling slog. Not the killing. The killing itself is easy. The Sankta are not paying enough attention to what is close to them. They are used to shootouts. Not knives. That is simple. Odda is a bit clumsy, I make mistakes in my new body. They are not bad enough to give us away.
No, what is hard is the…feeling. The Empathy. I am tempted to shoot one. Just so I can Fall. Just so the pain will stop. I do not. So it continues. I feel their hopes and dreams fade away. I feel their last desperate moments as they struggle for life. I feel their sorrow, knowing they will never see loved ones again. I have to extrapolate that one, actually. I cannot read their minds. Only their emotions. That is bad enough.
In the end, twelve Sankta are dead. I hope they were not Exusiai’s friends. I would feel…well. Not worse. I already feel worse. She would also feel bad. Though I suspect she will be sorrowful even if these were strangers.
“It’s done,” I tell the Doktah over our shortwave radio. Odda and I are smoking. I know I am supposed to quit. I need the cig. The nicotine helps, having something to do with my mouth helps more.
“Good work, Texas, Odda. Sending you the new coordinates now.”
The new destination was still in the industrial section of the city, by the main river, the Tevere.
“Water treatment facility?” Odda said. He looked up, his eyes wide.
I frowned and stubbed out the cigarret. “Yes. Skalter will do something. She is seaborne.”
“Texas, she’s going to put Seaborn cells into the water! That’s- that’s an End of the World scenario!” Odda hissed, flicking away his own smoke.
I consider that. “Priestess will also destroy the world.”
“Yes, but the Seaborn?! Texas, I know you’re not familiar with them, but I’ve BEEN to Iberia. The Profound Silence is HORRIFYING, so is the Church of the Deep!” Odda argued.
“Is it worse than turning everyone into Sankta, then originium?” I ask.
Odda hesitates. “Well, probably not, no.”
“Do you trust the Doktah?” I ask.
Odda rolls his shoulders uncomfortably. “I…well, yes. If it were the Ghost…no. But Doktah…I do trust them. Somehow.”
“Doktah trusts Skalter. Enough to wed her. We must place our trust in Doktah’s trust,” I say. “Now. We need to assess possible ambush points.”
There were multiple possible points of ambush. Odda and I scouted them dutifully. However, there were more explosions. Other teams were putting pressure on. This blunted the response of the Lateran security forces. We were able to navigate to the water plant successfully. There was security there. Not cohors. Just armed guards.
“Take them out,” Doktah told me quietly. “Incapacitate if possible. If it presents a risk to the operation…then eliminate them.”
“Understood,” I agreed.
I was able to incapacitate three of the five guards. Snuck up on them. They were patrolling alone. Not smart. Always work in pairs. Keeps you safe. They might suffer permanent damage. You can’t knock someone unconscious without potential risks. But they weren’t dead.
The last two were smart. Stuck together. Were alert, knew something was wrong. Odda and I moved fast, but not fast enough. Last two guards knew there were intruders. Were going to call for backup, put the facility on alert.
Had to kill them. No other choice. Knife work. Close and personal. Messy. But quiet. No alarm raised. All mission objectives accomplished. Didn’t have anything left to throw up. Still did.
We hid the bodies, and signaled the Doktah and Skalter. They went to the main water treatment controls. Skalter…did something. Dipped herself in the water. Contaminated it deliberately. I could see…things. They went into the water. Began to spread throughout the city. I felt sick. Nauseous. Not just from the Empathy backlash from the murders. I had just allowed Seaborn into a city’s waterways. No telling how many would die.
“It’s for the best,” Doktah told me. “We won’t kill them, Texas. We’ll try to limit Priestess influence. Trust me. I have a plan.”
I could only nod. Did I do the right thing? I wish Sora were here. She is smarter than I am.
At the same time, I am glad she is not. I would be very sad if her bust shrunk as much as mine has. Even if she would look cute with a halo.
We did not have to wait much longer, only an hour or so. Then, Doktah announced, “It’s time. We get to the Basilica, fast as we can. Honey, you’ll have to carry me. I don’t do cardio.”
That made Skalter laugh as a tentacle grew from under her skirt and wrapped around the Doktah. “I would not wish you to do so, Beloved. I never want you to run from me…”
“What about towards you?” Doktah asks, and kisses Skalter. It is both sweet, and disturbing. Is Doktah controlled by the Seaborn? Too late to worry. Have to trust.
Skalter is fast. I have not seen a tentacle fin swing around like a musbeast leaping between trees. It is…novel. I had not considered the applications eight prehensile arms would give someone in regards to mobility. Still, I did my best to keep up. Sankta bodies are…heavier. No, that is not the right word. I was slimmer, and had lost weight. They are not as…jumpy. It is hard to explain. They also lack a tail. Tails are very important for maintaining balance. I do not understand how anyone can survive without them. I wish Sora had hers. It would be very attractive.
By the time we arrived at the Basilica, I was breathing hard. I could not draw on the Siracusan combat arts I had learned to enhance my body’s strength and speed, but I was in excellent shape. Still, keeping up with a Firstborn is not something I could do easily. Even if she tended to choose less than optimal routes.
Thankfully, we had mostly avoided notice, and we arrived at the great square at the center of Laterano, taking up watch positions. The square was being evacuated by frantic civilians, while cohors and a few gun knights raced to take position. I could hear gunfire and explosions from a nearby building, and prepared to sortie. Doktah, however, stopped me.
“Wait. The timing isn’t right. Trust our allies. They can look after themselves,” they told me, taking out a pair of digital binoculars and examining the building. I took out my own spy glass, still trying to catch my breath, and took a look as well. Skalter just hummed to herself, a mad grin on her face. Odda was struggling to catch up to us. He is in good shape, but he is not as agile as I am.
“Is…is that where…Exu?” he gasped, pointing.
I was still peering into my glass at the building. It was named the Sanctuarium Reconciliationis. I believe that meant it was a penitentiary of some sort. Sankta naming conventions are flowery even by Siracusan standards. There was a battle going on there, and I saw a flash of red hair on someone riding on the back of a wheelchair. Exusiai.
“We have to go and help her!” Odda said, lowering his own binoculars and pointing.
“She’s fine. Just…wait,” Doktah ordered.
Odda glared at them, but I shrugged. “Would you rather go in alone, or where the Doktah tells you?”
“...fuck. If you weren’t the best strategic mind of our age,” Odda grumbled, but raised his binoculars and watched again.
More was happening. It seemed Exusiai’s faction had triumphed. Then, something new appeared. I did not see where the woman in the lab coat came from. I did see her summon a great shard of originium and throw it at Exusiai. This time, Doktah had to hold both Odda and I back.
“Wait. Not you. You can’t fight her.”
“WATCH ME!” Odda snarled, his eyes red with rage.
“No. I’ve sent you out on the front lines long enough. Now…it’s my turn. But, I need the two of you to do something while I talk to her,” Doktah said.
Odda and I immediately nod.
“Get Arturia Giallo out, and back to Skalter. Ignore everything else. Even Exusiai and Sussurro. Nothing is more important then getting Arturia to my wife, and doing it so that Priestess doesn’t realize you’re doing it. Do you understand?” Doktah says.
“Mmm, I love it when you call me your wife,” Skalter sighs, rubbing her cheek against Doktah. Then she pouts. “But do you have to go and speak to the stardweller bitch? Her, I do not like.”
“It’s the only way, Honey. I’m sorry. You’re the only girl, or boy, for me,” Doktah says, stroking her chin. She makes a face and nods. Doktah turns to us.
“Right. You ready? You’ll have to help me down, I’m not sooooooOOOOOOOO!”
Doktah is screaming as I pick them up and put them in a princess carry. Their arms squeeze tightly, but I make it down in only six jumps from the top of the building where we were spying. They were easy jumps. No more than 10 meters each. I do not know why they are so worried. Even Odda makes them without much trouble.
I set Doktah down and they straighten their jacket. “Uh, thanks. Alright. Good luck. Remember: Arturia. Don’t get caught.”
Then, they stuff their hands in their pockets, and stride out into the center of the square, even as a voice echoes saying, Now, I think it’s time to incorporate you all into my Model. There has been quite enough fuss as it is.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I still haven’t broken up with you properly,” Doktah calls, raising their voice.
I slip into the shadows with Odda, moving only the edges of the plaza as Priestess slowly turns, the shards of originium orbiting about her menacingly.
Oracle. At last, the true mastermind shows their face. Well, metaphorically. Why do you insist on hiding yours? It is not as if I have not gazed into your eyes, many a long night that we shared together. Or is your shame at lying with beasts so great that you cannot bear to meet my eyes any longer?
I focus on being silent and swift. There are windows at the side of the Sanctuarium Reconciliationis. I slip through one. Exusiai and the others are focused on Priestess. Odda is right behind me. He ignores orders, and goes over to Exusiai and embraces her. She gasps, then throws her arms about him as well.
I stay on mission. I find Arturia, who is clutching her cello behind a statue. It, and she, are unharmed.
“Celenia? What are you doing here?” she asks, sounding slightly dazed. Civilian. Not used to combat.
“Doktah has a plan. You must come with me. Now,” I tell her.
She considers that, then nods. Holding her instrument tightly to her chest, she stands. “Lead the way, then. I believe it is time for my magnum opus.”
We make our way back out the window. Doktah and Priestess are still talking.
Doktah stands there, hands in pockets, apparently casual and relaxed. “Skalter isn’t a beast, Priestess. You have to see that. Do you seriously think that the Terrans are nothing more than animals or experiments? They’re people.”
They’re DATA. Variables. CHILDREN! We have seen worlds born and die! Civilizations mightier than theirs rise and fall. We are GODS to them. And yet, you debase yourself and call one WIFE, Priestess rants. She sounds like a jilted lover. I suppose she is.
I get Arturia and her cello through the window and then safely down. It is tricky, the instrument is bulky. But we do it.
“This isn’t some perfect linguistic model. This isn’t what we planned. Life is messier than what even we can project. But it’s more beautiful than what we could dream up, too,” Doktah responds.
They are all going to DIE. You do understand this, yes? The fools even cracked the Starpod! The Observers, the true Enemy, is still out there? Do you seriously believe these INFANTS have even the remotest chance when we, their creators, couldn’t stand before the Great Silence? Only my model has the slimmest hope of salvation!
“And yet, they’ve done things we thought impossible. I choose to believe in them. Maybe they can’t defeat the Observers. Maybe they can. But they deserve the right to choose,” Doktah argues. “We can’t rob them of that.”
Priestess sneers at them. I absolutely can, and I will. You can’t stop me, fool! You’ve abandoned all your power! You married a fish crossed with a terraforming program! I became more powerful than anything these escaped experiments even DREAM of calling a god!
Doktah scratches the side of their head. “See, that’s your biggest blind spot. I didn’t marry a fish, Priestess. I married a Seaborn Firstborn. She’s not a terraforming project, even if we tried to use her as one. She’s an ancient being, born of this world’s desire for Migration. And now…I think she’ll move even you.”
As if anything that wretched thing could do would-
But Arturia and I have reached Skalter. The Firstborn grins, her eyes opening wide. “Yes…you have been touched by the Many before, have you not? Are you ready to join Our embrace yet again, landweller?”
“I would surrender my very soul to master my art. Let us now create the grandest symphony the world has ever heard!” Arturia raises her bow and draws it across the strings, even as Skalter rises up, lifting her head towards the heavens.
Priestess notices and begins to turn, but it is too late.
Arturia begins to play and Skalter croons a wordless song that I do not hear so much as feel in my soul. I gasp and shudder, feeling an alien presence invade through my Empathy. Then, as my vision clears, I began to understand. To hear the words.
My love, my love
Do you remember?
The call of the guns
My love, my love
Do you remember?
The bright colors
My love, my love
Do you remember?
A city, wild and free
It goes on like this for some time. By the second “my love”, I am no longer on the tower. Priestess is furious, and has turned towards the concert. I do not understand what is happening. I do not have to. I remember my mission:
Kill Priestess.
I launch myself from the tower, firing Blueberry and Dark Chocolate. I cannot use Lupo combat arts.
I can use Sankta ones.
I am an angel in flight. Death descending . Every bullet finds its mark. I can see the weak points in Priestess’ defenses, and exploit them mercilessly. She raises an originium barrier and fires crystals at me. I dodge out of the way, weaving between statues of saints as I reload and continue to fire. Another group is firing from the building. I identify the sound of Exusiai’s guns, but have to extrapolate that Odda and the other Sankta are firing as well.
What are you DOING!? You are perverting my model! My LANGUAGE! What are you doing to my beautiful language?! Priestess rants. She ignores me and my bullets after the first salvo irritates her, and whirls on Doktah. Traitor! You KNEW! I could forgive your deviancy, but this was OURS! You would pervert even my perfect model?!
Doktah doesn’t respond, or try to dodge. They stand there, resolute, as Priestess descends on him. I feel a horrific sense of despondency, but I can do nothing but continue to fire.
STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY GRANDPA, BITCH!
A snarling feline-eared demon launches itself at Priestess, sharp claws cutting through the originium defenses and sinking into her flesh. Priestess screams in pain, dropping her clipboard, as she desperately tries to get Mon3tr off. She manages to get a few chunks of originium under the demon girl, and hurls her away. Mon3tr lands on all four claws, hissing and arching her back as she stands between Priestess and Doktah.
Priestess snarls as Doktah stepps forward to stand beside Mon3tr. What is this!? Another repurposed combat model!? Do you have NO original ideas!?
“This is my granddaughter. Yours too, if you’d only open your eyes. And I love her very much. Now. Where’s my daughter?” Doktah asks coldly.
Priestess just screams as a grenade from Fiametta impacts her. She whirls, crystal growing over her skin and turning her eyes black. She launches a stream of projectiles at the Sankta, and I fear for Exusiai and the others as I am reloading.
But the crystals are intercepted by a preturnaturally accurate storm of fire, shredded before they can reach the destination.
More sankta are converging on the square. They’re singing with the song that Arturia and Skalter continue to croon.
My love, my love
Have you forgotten?
Have you forgotten?
This is not your face.
My love, my love
Have you forgotten?
When liberi flew free.
Have you forgotten?
The joy of Sankta race
What!? My control! You’re breaking my control!? HOW! Priestess screams, even as the Sankta turn their guns on her and began to wear away at her protective barrier. I join in, my fire coordinated through something even stronger than Empathy.
“Interesting thing about Seaborn. They evolve. Exploit weakness. Turns out, there’s a hole in Empathy,” Doktah says conversationally. “Arturia fell victim to it during my expedition to the Arbor. I analyzed it. Experimented a bit. And Skalter found an exploit. Because that’s the thing: I might be a genius, and you might be smarter than anyone alive in this time. Even me. But you’re still not as smart as an entire civilization.”
Priestess’s barrier dissolves entirely, and I put a bullet right into her head, along with dozens of others. She crumples to dust, falling to the clean white stones.
I stand there, breathing hard, and look up at Doktah.
“Phase one complete. Mission accomplished,” they say quietly. He turns to me. “Time for phase two. I’m afraid it’s a multistage operation. Pretty tricky. You up for it, Texas?”
I nod. I still have Vendetta to fulfill.
And my best friend to get back.