Freddy knew who Madame was. While her greatest feats were tied to her war efforts, she wasn’t a slouch when it came to journalism. If she was offering to tell him, she knew everything there was to know. At the very least enough to answer all his questions.
Thoughts of what she might be playing at or want in turn were completely out of his mind as he had only one thing to say. “Which ones?”
“Both. Both your adopted, and your biological parents.”
He blew air through pursed lips as he sank in on himself, resting his forehead on his twined fingers. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and he was struggling to control his breathing. It took him a long minute to gather himself.
Did he want to know?
That was a stupid question, of course he did. He was dying to know. He had to. Even if he knew it was going to hurt. “Tell me about my adopted parents.”
She paused, her expression saddening. “They passed away.”
For his part, he simply nodded at that. He was devastated, of course. It was bitter, horrible news to receive… but not the slightest bit surprising. “What happened?”
“First, tell me how much you knew about them.”
He scowled. “Admittedly, very little.” He knew them well as people, but they hadn’t been big on sharing their history. “How much can you tell me?”
“I’ll start at the beginning, then. You most likely knew them as Francis and Jill, right?”
He nodded.
“Their real names were Harry and Courtney Stern.”
Again, hardly a surprise. He had already long suspected them of using fake names.
Madame continued. “Both of them were born and grew up in Slattsdale.”
Freddy scowled at that one. He’d never been there himself, but he had heard plenty about the place. It was basically a slum.
Madame told him their story, and with every new thing he learned, the more he understood why everything happened the way it did.
His parents had also grown up in an orphanage.. That was likely why they had adopted an older kid like him in the first place. They knew very well how hopeless the life of an aging orphan could be.
They weren’t lucky enough to ever get adopted themselves, and eventually, as soon as they were old enough to survive on their own, they ran away.
And then they joined a gang.
Freddy had thought his youth had been a struggle, but compared to what the two of them had to go through, he was truly fortunate.
No, not fortunate. It wasn’t luck that had saved him, it was them. Without their advice, without what they had taught him, and the push they gave him, it was likely he would have ended up in the same place.
For many years, Harry and Courtney had done odd jobs for the gang, and in turn, they were barely fed enough to survive. As they grew up, they earned enough trust to be allowed to take on more serious work.
Like selling drugs.
Again, hardly any surprise there.
Apparently, they had been quite good at it. So good that they quickly became pillars of the local trade. But this wasn’t enough for them. They embezzled well over six figures worth of drug money from the gang and then ran away, skipping cities until they made it to Pittersville. They assumed fake names, adopted Freddy, and tried to settle down.
One day, the leader of their gang dropped by Pittersville. By total coincidence, one of their old gang members spotted them. That happened the day they had vanished on him.
Rather than get him involved, they had decided to silently leave in the night. It was a horrible thing to do, but they hardly had a choice.
If they had told him what was happening, he would have definitely followed them. And then, several days later, a third body would have been found in that alley.
Freddy was clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. “Who is the leader of that gang?” His expression darkened. “And where can I find him?”
“I’m sorry to say it, but he’s dead, too. Died only about a day after your parents, actually. According to the police report, he accidentally stabbed himself nine times in the back and then tripped and fell off the balcony.”
Freddy raised an eyebrow. “Accidentally, huh?”
She snorted. “Obviously, this was no accident. In more ways than one. In fact, he’d died precisely because he was messing around another person’s territory.” She gave him a long stare.
It took him a few moments to piece it together.
Pittersville.
Dirty cops.
Another person’s territory.
He burst into laughter. “It was that fucker, wasn’t it?”
“Indeed. Personally, at that.”
“So Basilisk avenged my parents.” He laughed harder. “My hero.”
Madame chuckled herself. “Small world, huh?” She looked down at her desktop. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, yeah…” He nodded. “I’m okay. Obviously, it sucks to hear that they’re dead, but… I already knew what happened. I just did. It wasn’t like them to disappear for no reason. And if they had lived, I know they would have come looking for me later.” His nods slowed down. “Of course, a part of me always clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe… But… Yeah…” He buried his face in his hands. “Thank you, Madame. At least I have some closure.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. There’s also your biological parents.”
“Oh, right. Them. I guess you could tell me about them, too. Just give me a minute.” He breathed slowly, allowing himself to calm down. He didn’t cry. He couldn’t. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”
“For starters, they’re alive and well. I met them personally, and…”
The story of Freddy’s biological parents was quite something.
Madame had to keep their identities private because they didn’t want to either meet Freddy or have him track them down. Thus, she could only tell him some details, but it was enough to paint an ugly picture.
Simply put, they just kind of sucked.
Both were dream-affinity one-stars; his dad was a teacher and his mum an accountant. They were quite affluent, too, but this hadn’t been the case when Freddy was born. Back then, they had still been mortals.
Not poor by any means—both sides of his family were archhuman, after all. But they had been saving up for dream-affinity primes, which were highly sought-after because they landed people in the cushiest jobs in existence, and not any of this peasant labor where you had to be exposed to anything dirty or dangerous, god forbid.
“Your mother got pregnant when she was 19. According to her, it was an accident, but she had been thrilled, until, according to her again, the ‘dark side of being a mother bared its fangs.’” Madame rolled her eyes. “Then she whined about what sounded like completely normal life with a newborn like she’d lived through trench warfare or something. Anyway…
“Perhaps she would have soldiered on, but then, when you were diagnosed with your terminal illness, she just couldn’t handle the, and I quote—‘emotional and financial burden of all that,’ so she decided to give you up. Of course, your spineless slug of a father just nodded along, and that’s how you ended up—”
“Hol’ up.” Freddy raised a hand. “I’M TERMINALLY ILL!?”
Madame burst into laughter. “You didn’t know!?”
“No!? Nobody ever fucking told me I was terminally ill! What the hell am I dying from!?”
She waved him down. “Hardly a thing to worry about now, so relax. You have a rare form of muscular dystrophy that takes almost twenty years to kill you via heart failure. But with your powers, you will never have to worry about this.”
Freddy was utterly baffled. “That explains so much…” He had always been awfully weak through his teens. He’d chalked it up to malnourishment, but it seemed like there was more to it. “Wait, you said almost twenty years?”
She nodded with a grin. “Indeed. You were quite lucky to have lived long enough to get that talent of yours.”
“Well that’s horrifying.”
“You should still look into it, though,” Madame warned. “It will never hurt you, but it might be hereditary.”
“Good thing I’m not planning on having children, then.”
“Well you weren’t planned either, but would you look at that?”
“Touché, but ouch.” He chuckled. “Anyway, that’s all I really needed to hear about them. Good to know they’re as pathetic as I had been imagining them to be.” He paused. “Thank you for this, Madame. You had no reason to go so far out of the way for me. I’ll remember this favor.”
“Don’t worry about it, Freddy.
“I should get going now.”
She nodded. “We’ll stay in touch.” Leaning forward, she rested her chin on the back of her wrist, her stretched out fingers dancing playfully. “I’m curious to see what you make of yourself here.”
“Nothing good, hopefully.”
She snorted. “And by the way, do you need anything for that headache?”
He paused, forcing a smile on his face. “No. I think I’ll be fine.”
***
As soon as he was out of the arena, Freddy took out his phone. He stared at it for a long moment, and then put it back into his storage ring. He’d call Vlad later. There was something he had to take care of, first.
He made his way back towards the passage hub leading back to Pittersville. After paying the exit fee and waiting for almost two hours, he found himself back in the place he was born and raised.
It was different. The entirety of what used to be District 26, and a few of the surrounding ones, was now part of a massive hub, with countless large buildings surrounding the area. The appearance of the passage to Faralethal had changed a few things.
His lips were twisted into a pained, horrible scowl. He had wanted to visit the building where he lived with them. The places they had spent time together. And it was all gone.
Sighing, he headed elsewhere.
After walking through the dense urban area, he eventually made it back to where he used to live, the run-down little building in District 19. It was still here, as the changes haven’t quite reached this far yet, but even then, it no longer looked so… run-down. The windows were clearly new, and the outer facade had a brand new coat of paint over it.
He approached the building entrance, staring the locked doors down. They were still locked with just regular keys, so a bit of blood metal made it easy enough to lock-pick his way in.
Once inside, he first knocked on the place James used to live. He had moved out. Same as Sharon.
He had wanted to apologize, at least, for the things he’d told them the last time he’d seen them. But alas, the area had no doubt gotten far too expensive for them to keep living here.
So he headed to the last location he had in mind.
A few knocks echoed through the hallway.
A moment later, a tall, muscular man opened the doors to what used to be Freddy’s old studio apartment, squinting at him. “Something I can help you with?” The man’s gaze was less than welcoming.
The man was a one-star on the lower end, and given that he couldn’t sense Freddy’s aura, all he saw was a scrawny pretty boy in plain clothing.
“Yeah,” Freddy said. “I’d like to rent your apartment for the day.”
He scoffed. “Get the hell out of here, kid.”
Freddy raised a hand, and a moment later, a large stack of cash appeared, tightly banded together.
The fact Freddy casually used a storage ring was already enough to change the man’s demeanor.
“I’ll give you…” Freddy looked down. “I’m actually not sure how much money this is, but here you go.”
The man grabbed the cash, first in confusion. The moment he realized it was a stack of thousand-dollar bills, he instantly pocketed it before nervously looking around to see if anyone saw them. Then, he burst into laughter. “Sure thing, my man, make yourself at home! Need anything else?” He rubbed his hands together.
“No, that’ll be all.”
“Aight, kid, have fun!” He practically ran down the stairs, chuckling happily to himself.
Freddy took a deep breath and then pushed the doors open.
Even if the tax bracket had moved up a bit, this whole building was still for those who weren’t doing the hottest. The apartment was just as small as he remembered it, and there was still just one communal bathroom per floor. However—
“What the hell is this?”
The tiny apartment was absolutely nothing like the cramped shithole he remembered. For starters, there was no big-ass chest taking up half the free space. The bed was raised, propped atop a large closet, which freed up the floor.
The cupboards, the fridge, and even the garbage can were all raised up on the wall along the ceiling, leaving a rather spacious area in the middle. The table was foldable, the carpet was nice, the windows were new and no longer rickety—despite it being the same size, it was a million times nicer to live in.
Freddy found himself pouting and crossing his arms. “Why the hell didn’t I think of any of this shit?” Sure, it would have cost him a bit of money, but the quality of life difference would have been well worth it.
He found himself simply staring at the entrance to the apartment, feelings souring.
This just wasn’t the apartment he’d lived in. There was nothing to find here.
Slowly closing the door, he walked up the stairs, making his way to the roof.
The view notwithstanding, this place was mostly the same. He turned to a part of the city that still looked familiar, leaning over the parapet.
The sky was growing grayer by the minute as the clouds set in.
He raised his hand, clawing his fingers into his scalp, trying to push the headache he’d been ignoring away.
It shouldn’t have mattered to him. This should have been about them, not about… them.
His adopted parents had died. So he felt like a dirty traitor, spitting on all they’d ever done for him as he couldn’t stop thinking about the other two, instead.
Throughout his life, Freddy had thought about who his real parents were a billion times. He always had this fantasy that they had been somehow forced to leave him, either for financial reasons, or political ones, and that one day, when he became successful and powerful, he’d find them, right whatever wrong had happened, and have a real family.
He’d meet his brothers or sisters or both, cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, or whoever else he had. He’d hate some of them. He’d like the others.
But none of that would happen.
“Fuck being unwanted…” He gritted his teeth, grinding them hard enough to make a few crack. “They threw me out like garbage!” Cracks spread through the parapet as his fist came down on it. “And they don’t want me to ‘track them down…’? You goddamned cowards!”
Deep down, he could feel it. They had made a good choice by hiding, because he surely would have killed them if they hadn’t. Or… no. He would have made them apologize. But would they? Would people who’d left him to die out of sight even feel such remorse? Perhaps he could force an apology out of them, but it would be hollow.
Just as he was.
He turned his back to the short wall, sliding down it as he sank in on himself, knees pulled in, an arm wrapped around them, and the other gripping a fist-full of his hair tight enough to rip some of it out.
The shame, grief, and anger he felt warred inside as he felt himself wanting to disappear, to shrink into nothing and vanish for good. That’s what they would have wanted, no? The headache was threatening to split his skull apart by now, and he felt his soul rapidly healing in a huge burst. What would have taken months of time otherwise, healed in seconds.
It was those things of significance that healed a soul. Not those things that felt good, or brought him happiness. Just those that mattered, even if he’d prefer they didn’t. Even if he’d rather be indifferent to it. But he wasn’t. He cared. And his head hurt. A lot.
At some point, the sound of thunder echoed through the city, and rain started falling. He still didn’t move. It drenched his skin, pouring over him for hours. He felt it trail across his skin, wetting every inch of him, washing everything away.
Thoughts of water rushed into his mind, flooding him from within. He wished nothing more than to be as indifferent as it was. To be a force of nature, giving and taking as he pleased, caring not a bit about that he left in his wake.
At one point, he opened his eyes and looked down.
He snorted. He was in his projection. The cracks of his soul visibly spread throughout his projected form.
A massive body of water, just like out of a painting, spread around him far in every direction, rain cast down from above. An unimaginable distance away, he saw a titanic leviathan, its beady, fish-like face staring him down with expectation.
“Hello, Water,” he greeted. “Sorry for disturbing your domain. To be honest, I’m in no state to take on any kind of trial right now. But I don’t quite want to leave just yet.” Pause. “Do you… Do you mind if I stay here, just a bit?”
The titan suddenly vanished under the surface of the vast ocean, burbling in what he felt to be agreement.
“Thanks, boss. I appreciate it.”
It was nicer to be in his projection than in his body. And time flowed far slower outside of the realm. It was a nice break. A timeless moment where he could just watch the rain of wisps fall, and fall, and fall…
It was easy enough to lose track of time. Eventually, he came to, and he was outside, lying on his side in a small puddle, body shivering from the cold. He’d slept, it seemed. For a while, too.
He slowly got up.
The sobering morning breeze washed over him, carrying the smell of city-brand petrichor. Finally, with a deep breath, he opened his eyes, and the full power of the dawn, already shining over the tall buildings, landed on his skin.
The sky was particularly blue that day, and the clouds of yesterday’s rain still hung on the horizon, journeying to distant lands. Glittering reflections scattered off the floating buildings and jumped off the rooftop puddles everywhere else.
“Is deja vu a symptom of soul damage, too?”
He stretched briefly, using a pinch of essence manipulation to pull the water out of his drenched clothing. Cracking his knuckles, he turned around, heading for the stairway.
“I’m in a mood to kill something,” he said, as he headed back to Starhold.
A few hours later, a handful of confused archhumans stared in wonder as a plainly dressed, unarmed man walked out into the plains surrounding the city, heading straight towards the neverending horde of monsters, hands tucked in his pockets.