21st Fragment: -ECHO-
The first thing Sam felt after he plummeted into the void was the solid, sandy ground and intense pain spreading throughout his body. It was one thing to fall into a deep, dark hole but to land directly on his injured arm. He laid on his back, nauseous and quivering uncontrollably; his eyes quickly welled up with tears.
"Oh…God…that hurts…that really freaking hurts," Sam whimpered.
Biting down on his lips, the man proceeded to take a few deep breaths and waited for the pain to subside. As his eyes adjusted to the looming blackness, he was anticipating the Nightingales to unleash their usual snarky remarks at any moment. Yet, he could hear nothing except the grinding sands against his back.
“Lucy? Rupert? Liz?”
Nothing.
“Is anybody there?” Sam called out once more, but like before, there was only silence. “Okay, okay. Don’t panic. Don’t…panic. They’re probably somewhere nearby. You just…have to stand up and search the area. Alright, here goes – one, two…”
Sam groaned as he slowly got to his feet. He could feel the back of his head throbbing, but even then, it was no match to the pain he felt along his injured arm.
Raising his head upward, Sam caught a glimpse of the hole he fell into which was shaped like a tiny white dot. It was nothing less than a miracle, he thought – for him to have survived the plunge without losing his life or at least breaking some of his bones.
Nonetheless, that still didn't change the fact that he was alone in the dark, covered in gravel and bloodied bandages - an unpleasant situation he once experienced during the annual Grisly Gauntlets.
“Alright. Now, which way to go?”
BZZT!
Sam spun around after hearing a brief, static noise from behind him. "What the...?" he spouted, squinting his eyes as hard as he could.
It was a surprising find – an old computer terminal covered in dust and grime - its small screen emitted a faint green glow in the midst of the thick shadows. Like a moth to a flame, Sam was drawn to the eerie terminal whose light pulsated with every step he took.
Just as he was within an arm's distance from the machine, the monitor began to flicker over and over again - until it displayed an image of a compact grey room furnished with an autopsy table and a ventilated cabinet packed with various types of surgical tools.
Although it was slightly blurry, Sam noticed the metallic table was stained with blood. “Is this…a recording?’ the man muttered. Seconds later, he heard someone heaving followed by a scraping sound.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"For the love of Vidia, you're heavier than I thought," said a muffled male voice with a bit of an accent. Shortly after, a figure in a yellow PPE suit appeared on screen, dragging along a black, body-sized plastic bag before lifting it onto the metallic table. "Let's see. Subject...," the Disciple picked up the red clipboard from the cabinet before continuing, "#116. A 10-year-old male. Found partially digested in the bowel of the Sandcreeper. Approximate time of death: six hours ago."
The man unzipped the bag, revealing several body parts immersed in brownish-black sludge. “Let’s see – judging from the level of decomposition, Subject #116 has been submerged in the Sandcreeper’s stomach acid for about…four…no, sorry, five hours. And, huh…?” The man in the PPE suit reached his hands into the plastic bag and carefully pulled out a glass vial from the muck – the pink liquid inside remained pristine.
“The Transitory Elixir given to Subject #116 was found in good condition. There were no signs that the container has been tampered with – indicating the deceased disobeyed a direct order and refused to consume the liquid.”
"Poor thing," remarked a familiar voice off-screen, causing the man in the PPE suit to shudder.
"Silva? I didn't see you came in."
"I'm truly sorry for this late-night visit, but I came here as soon as I heard about the boy. So he didn’t drink the elixir like the previous one?"
"Unfortunately, no. As you can see, he didn’t even touch the bottle.”
Finally, Silva appeared on-screen with a disappointed look on his face. He put both hands on the table and exhaled; his lips started to move, muttering some sort of prayer to the deceased, "You were a stubborn one, but I hope your end was swift."
Silva then shifted his gaze at the man in the PPE suit and said with a monotonous voice, "Clean everything and scheduled his remains for cremation."
"I beg your pardon, sir?" the doctor expressed his astonishment, "I haven’t finished with my autopsy-.”
"There is nothing to study. The boy did not take the elixir, so anything you find is useless to us," Silva interrupted, "Besides, the Faceless are closing in fast, so we can't afford to waste any more time or resources."
"You know, Sir? Don’t take this personally, but are we even on the right track here? I mean...Isn't it possible that what happened to Rosa was purely out of chance?"
"Chance?" replied Silva, glaring menacingly at the doctor. "Our research does not and will not depend on a fickle variable such as luck. There should...there MUST be a solid explanation as to why the treatment worked on her."
All of a sudden, the entire room turned dark red with the siren blaring in the distance. Before the two Disciples could react, they felt the whole chamber tremble, later replaced with the blood-curdling screams of men and women coming from outside the morgue.
"No. NO!" Silva shouted, and the screen cut to black.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sam stood quietly in front of the blank monitor, struggling to comprehend whatever he had just seen. However, one thing was certain: the recording was presumably taken ten years ago - on the day the Order launched an attack on the Disciples' stronghold.
Still, it was strange, Sam thought. Shouldn't the Order first send an envoy to negotiate with the enemies before resorting to brute force in case everything failed?
"Hm, something doesn't add up here," Sam whispered. He tried pressing a few buttons on the keyboard, but to his disappointment, the machine had ceased functioning altogether.
"Figures. Now what?" the man grunted. As Sam turned away from the computer, his entire body froze, but not from the Lacerator's paralyzing venom.
Near the entrance of the chamber was a little girl holding a small flashlight, and she was staring warily at Sam. Without uttering anything, the girl slowly backed away from the room.
In order to prevent her from fleeing, Sam dropped to one knee and calmly introduced himself with a smile, "Hi there. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you. My name is Samuel Edelweiss, but you can call me Sam."
Although she was still suspicious of the man, the girl stopped dead on her track and started talking in a slightly hoarse voice, "You are not one of the men in the funny suit."
Sam shook his head before answering, "No, I'm not. I came from... somewhere far, far away."
"Far, far away?" the girl's eyes instantly lit up. "How far?”
“Very far.”
“I see,” the girl replied. “Sam, was it? How did you get down here?”
“I fell from up there,” Sam simply said before pointing at the hole in the ceiling.
“That’s…pretty high, and yet, you’re still alive.”
“Guess it’s my lucky day.”
The mysterious girl eventually came forward. She was probably no older than ten, Sam thought; her haggard face was so pale and delicate that it was like staring at a thin layer of ice. She was also wearing a worn-out medical gown with the Disciples' insignia embroidered on the left side of her chest. Yet, despite the girl's ragged appearance, her neck-length mocha hair was near immaculate.
"You're hurt. Did you get that from falling down?" said the girl, gesturing her finger at Sam's wrapped arm.
"This? No, I got this from before the fall. It’s just a little scratch," Sam returned.
“It doesn’t look like a little scratch. Honestly, it looks pretty bad.”
“You’re quite shrewd for a kid,” Sam complimented. “Yes, you’re right. It is so bad that I had to stitch it up. I got it from a fight with a…um…how should I say this?”
“The Distorted?” the girl remarked.
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know about them?”
“Yeah. They…killed my parents and friends. That’s why the men in the funny suit took us down here – to protect us from those monsters.”
“Oh,” uttered Sam as he felt a sudden heaviness in his chest.
“What business do you have with those nasty things anyway?”
“Well, do you see this?” Sam gestured at the katana strapped to his waist. “My job is to hunt those nasty things down – to make sure they won’t be hurting anyone ever again.”
“Hunt? If that’s true, then I have one request,” the girl said confidently.
“A request, you said?” Sam smirked as he was unable to contain his amusement. “Interesting. Sure, let’s hear it.”
The girl proceeded to clear her throat - a gesture that made Sam chuckle quietly. “In exchange for your way out of this place, I want you to take me and my friends along with you.”
“Your…friends? How many friends are we talking about here?” asked Sam, his head tilted slightly to the left.
“Uh-uh,” the girl showed her left palm to Sam. “I won’t tell you more until you agree to my conditions. Soooo, do we have terms?”
“And, what if I disagree with your conditions?”
“Then, I’ll leave you here in the dark. Be warned though, this entire is a maze and only I knew which pathways to take – and I also have a flashlight in my hand.”
“Hm, I must admit, you’re a cheeky one. Fine, we have terms.”
The girl held her right hand out which Sam gently shook. Oddly enough, he felt a wave of nostalgia suddenly wash over him – as if he had experienced this kind of situation before. Or perhaps it was the pain playing tricks on his mind.
“You know, girl, if we’re going to work together from now on, wouldn’t it be easier to refer to each other by name?”
Although hesitant at first, the girl eventually muttered, "Anemone. Annie, for short." She then glowered at the man, waiting for some kind of reaction from him. "Now that you know how to call me, is there anything else you want to know before we begin our mission?" she later asked.
"Nothing, I guess. At least for now," said Sam, shrugging both of his shoulders.
"Perfect!" Anemone exclaimed, "Now, let us go forth without delay!"
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The first thing Lucy saw after opening her eyes was a building that was supposed to be destroyed years ago.
A lone tower mill, with a red cap and white sail standing in the vast, green plains - similar to the one in her and her brother's hometown. 'How can this be?' she wondered as it was completely razed to the ground by the Distorted, leaving her family as the sole survivors. But there was no mistaking it. The mosses on the building, the number of missing bricks, and the discolored wind shaft - the only word that escaped her mouth was, "Impossible."
Shortly after, a gust of icy cold wind hit her in the face, along with the acrid smell of sulfur, smoke - and the sickly, sweet stench of burning flesh.
"Lucia..." A raspy female voice crept into Lucy's ears. It was the voice that haunted her in her sleep for the past 13 years - the same voice that used to be warm and welcoming before it was marred by the voracious black flame. In that instant, a black mist began to swirl in front of her very eyes, forming a shadowy humanoid figure.
"Lucia..." said the silhouette - its slightly distorted voice sent a shiver down Lucy's spine. It slowly glided toward the female Accursed with both arms stretching outward.
"No, stay away! Don't come any closer!" warned Lucy, slowly backing away from the approaching blackness. Her hand instinctively reached for the weapon on her back, but she could only feel the wintry air grazing against her palm. Lucy looked over her shoulder; her entire face turned white after realizing her dagger had disappeared without a trace. She turned her attention forward and gasped when the silhouette was already an inch away from her face.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME!? WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME TO DIE!?" the shadow shrieked before grabbing Lucy by the neck.
"Stop..." Lucy whimpered as the foggy hands tightened their grips with each passing moment.
"IT HURTS! THE FIRE! THE FIRE FROM THE ABYSS! YOU WATCHED, BUT YOU DID NOTHING! YOU UNGRATEFUL CHILD! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU-!"
"Enough!" the shadows dispersed after Lucy screamed at the top of her lungs. Sinking to her knees, the woman stared blankly at the distant windmill for a few seconds before bursting into tears.
"I'm sorry...I'm...sorry....mom," were the only things she murmured before she prostrated on the field of green, bawling her eyes out.
21st Fragment: -ECHO-
The first thing Sam felt after he plummeted into the void was the solid, sandy ground and intense pain spreading throughout his body. It was one thing to fall into a deep, dark hole but to land directly on his injured arm. He laid on his back, nauseous and quivering uncontrollably; his eyes quickly welled up with tears.
"Oh…God…that hurts…that really freaking hurts," Sam whimpered.
Biting down on his lips, the man proceeded to take a few deep breaths and waited for the pain to subside. As his eyes adjusted to the looming blackness, he was anticipating the Nightingales to unleash their usual snarky remarks at any moment. Yet, he could hear nothing except the grinding sands against his back.
“Lucy? Rupert? Liz?”
Nothing.
“Is anybody there?” Sam called out once more, but like before, there was only silence. “Okay, okay. Don’t panic. Don’t…panic. They’re probably somewhere nearby. You just…have to stand up and search the area. Alright, here goes – one, two…”
Sam groaned as he slowly got to his feet. He could feel the back of his head throbbing, but even then, it was no match to the pain he felt along his injured arm.
Raising his head upward, Sam caught a glimpse of the hole he fell into which was shaped like a tiny white dot. It was nothing less than a miracle, he thought – for him to have survived the plunge without losing his life or at least breaking some of his bones.
Nonetheless, that still didn't change the fact that he was alone in the dark, covered in gravel and bloodied bandages - an unpleasant situation he once experienced during the annual Grisly Gauntlets.
“Alright. Now, which way to go?”
BZZT!
Sam spun around after hearing a brief, static noise from behind him. "What the...?" he spouted, squinting his eyes as hard as he could.
It was a surprising find – an old computer terminal covered in dust and grime - its small screen emitted a faint green glow in the midst of the thick shadows. Like a moth to a flame, Sam was drawn to the eerie terminal whose light pulsated with every step he took.
Just as he was within an arm's distance from the machine, the monitor began to flicker over and over again - until it displayed an image of a compact grey room furnished with an autopsy table and a ventilated cabinet packed with various types of surgical tools.
Although it was slightly blurry, Sam noticed the metallic table was stained with blood. “Is this…a recording?’ the man muttered. Seconds later, he heard someone heaving followed by a scraping sound.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"For the love of Vidia, you're heavier than I thought," said a muffled male voice with a bit of an accent. Shortly after, a figure in a yellow PPE suit appeared on screen, dragging along a black, body-sized plastic bag before lifting it onto the metallic table. "Let's see. Subject...," the Disciple picked up the red clipboard from the cabinet before continuing, "#116. A 10-year-old male. Found partially digested in the bowel of the Sandcreeper. Approximate time of death: six hours ago."
The man unzipped the bag, revealing several body parts immersed in brownish-black sludge. “Let’s see – judging from the level of decomposition, Subject #116 has been submerged in the Sandcreeper’s stomach acid for about…four…no, sorry, five hours. And, huh…?” The man in the PPE suit reached his hands into the plastic bag and carefully pulled out a glass vial from the muck – the pink liquid inside remained pristine.
“The Transitory Elixir given to Subject #116 was found in good condition. There were no signs that the container has been tampered with – indicating the deceased disobeyed a direct order and refused to consume the liquid.”
"Poor thing," remarked a familiar voice off-screen, causing the man in the PPE suit to shudder.
"Silva? I didn't see you came in."
"I'm truly sorry for this late-night visit, but I came here as soon as I heard about the boy. So he didn’t drink the elixir like the previous one?"
"Unfortunately, no. As you can see, he didn’t even touch the bottle.”
Finally, Silva appeared on-screen with a disappointed look on his face. He put both hands on the table and exhaled; his lips started to move, muttering some sort of prayer to the deceased, "You were a stubborn one, but I hope your end was swift."
Silva then shifted his gaze at the man in the PPE suit and said with a monotonous voice, "Clean everything and scheduled his remains for cremation."
"I beg your pardon, sir?" the doctor expressed his astonishment, "I haven’t finished with my autopsy-.”
"There is nothing to study. The boy did not take the elixir, so anything you find is useless to us," Silva interrupted, "Besides, the Faceless are closing in fast, so we can't afford to waste any more time or resources."
"You know, Sir? Don’t take this personally, but are we even on the right track here? I mean...Isn't it possible that what happened to Rosa was purely out of chance?"
"Chance?" replied Silva, glaring menacingly at the doctor. "Our research does not and will not depend on a fickle variable such as luck. There should...there MUST be a solid explanation as to why the treatment worked on her."
All of a sudden, the entire room turned dark red with the siren blaring in the distance. Before the two Disciples could react, they felt the whole chamber tremble, later replaced with the blood-curdling screams of men and women coming from outside the morgue.
"No. NO!" Silva shouted, and the screen cut to black.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sam stood quietly in front of the blank monitor, struggling to comprehend whatever he had just seen. However, one thing was certain: the recording was presumably taken ten years ago - on the day the Order launched an attack on the Disciples' stronghold.
Still, it was strange, Sam thought. Shouldn't the Order first send an envoy to negotiate with the enemies before resorting to brute force in case everything failed?
"Hm, something doesn't add up here," Sam whispered. He tried pressing a few buttons on the keyboard, but to his disappointment, the machine had ceased functioning altogether.
"Figures. Now what?" the man grunted. As Sam turned away from the computer, his entire body froze, but not from the Lacerator's paralyzing venom.
Near the entrance of the chamber was a little girl holding a small flashlight, and she was staring warily at Sam. Without uttering anything, the girl slowly backed away from the room.
In order to prevent her from fleeing, Sam dropped to one knee and calmly introduced himself with a smile, "Hi there. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you. My name is Samuel Edelweiss, but you can call me Sam."
Although she was still suspicious of the man, the girl stopped dead on her track and started talking in a slightly hoarse voice, "You are not one of the men in the funny suit."
Sam shook his head before answering, "No, I'm not. I came from... somewhere far, far away."
"Far, far away?" the girl's eyes instantly lit up. "How far?”
“Very far.”
“I see,” the girl replied. “Sam, was it? How did you get down here?”
“I fell from up there,” Sam simply said before pointing at the hole in the ceiling.
“That’s…pretty high, and yet, you’re still alive.”
“Guess it’s my lucky day.”
The mysterious girl eventually came forward. She was probably no older than ten, Sam thought; her haggard face was so pale and delicate that it was like staring at a thin layer of ice. She was also wearing a worn-out medical gown with the Disciples' insignia embroidered on the left side of her chest. Yet, despite the girl's ragged appearance, her neck-length mocha hair was near immaculate.
"You're hurt. Did you get that from falling down?" said the girl, gesturing her finger at Sam's wrapped arm.
"This? No, I got this from before the fall. It’s just a little scratch," Sam returned.
“It doesn’t look like a little scratch. Honestly, it looks pretty bad.”
“You’re quite shrewd for a kid,” Sam complimented. “Yes, you’re right. It is so bad that I had to stitch it up. I got it from a fight with a…um…how should I say this?”
“The Distorted?” the girl remarked.
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know about them?”
“Yeah. They…killed my parents and friends. That’s why the men in the funny suit took us down here – to protect us from those monsters.”
“Oh,” uttered Sam as he felt a sudden heaviness in his chest.
“What business do you have with those nasty things anyway?”
“Well, do you see this?” Sam gestured at the katana strapped to his waist. “My job is to hunt those nasty things down – to make sure they won’t be hurting anyone ever again.”
“Hunt? If that’s true, then I have one request,” the girl said confidently.
“A request, you said?” Sam smirked as he was unable to contain his amusement. “Interesting. Sure, let’s hear it.”
The girl proceeded to clear her throat - a gesture that made Sam chuckle quietly. “In exchange for your way out of this place, I want you to take me and my friends along with you.”
“Your…friends? How many friends are we talking about here?” asked Sam, his head tilted slightly to the left.
“Uh-uh,” the girl showed her left palm to Sam. “I won’t tell you more until you agree to my conditions. Soooo, do we have terms?”
“And, what if I disagree with your conditions?”
“Then, I’ll leave you here in the dark. Be warned though, this entire is a maze and only I knew which pathways to take – and I also have a flashlight in my hand.”
“Hm, I must admit, you’re a cheeky one. Fine, we have terms.”
The girl held her right hand out which Sam gently shook. Oddly enough, he felt a wave of nostalgia suddenly wash over him – as if he had experienced this kind of situation before. Or perhaps it was the pain playing tricks on his mind.
“You know, girl, if we’re going to work together from now on, wouldn’t it be easier to refer to each other by name?”
Although hesitant at first, the girl eventually muttered, "Anemone. Annie, for short." She then glowered at the man, waiting for some kind of reaction from him. "Now that you know how to call me, is there anything else you want to know before we begin our mission?" she later asked.
"Nothing, I guess. At least for now," said Sam, shrugging both of his shoulders.
"Perfect!" Anemone exclaimed, "Now, let us go forth without delay!"
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The first thing Lucy saw after opening her eyes was a building that was supposed to be destroyed years ago.
A lone tower mill, with a red cap and white sail standing in the vast, green plains - similar to the one in her and her brother's hometown. 'How can this be?' she wondered as it was completely razed to the ground by the Distorted, leaving her family as the sole survivors. But there was no mistaking it. The mosses on the building, the number of missing bricks, and the discolored wind shaft - the only word that escaped her mouth was, "Impossible."
Shortly after, a gust of icy cold wind hit her in the face, along with the acrid smell of sulfur, smoke - and the sickly, sweet stench of burning flesh.
"Lucia..." A raspy female voice crept into Lucy's ears. It was the voice that haunted her in her sleep for the past 13 years - the same voice that used to be warm and welcoming before it was marred by the voracious black flame. In that instant, a black mist began to swirl in front of her very eyes, forming a shadowy humanoid figure.
"Lucia..." said the silhouette - its slightly distorted voice sent a shiver down Lucy's spine. It slowly glided toward the female Accursed with both arms stretching outward.
"No, stay away! Don't come any closer!" warned Lucy, slowly backing away from the approaching blackness. Her hand instinctively reached for the weapon on her back, but she could only feel the wintry air grazing against her palm. Lucy looked over her shoulder; her entire face turned white after realizing her dagger had disappeared without a trace. She turned her attention forward and gasped when the silhouette was already an inch away from her face.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME!? WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME TO DIE!?" the shadow shrieked before grabbing Lucy by the neck.
"Stop..." Lucy whimpered as the foggy hands tightened their grips with each passing moment.
"IT HURTS! THE FIRE! THE FIRE FROM THE ABYSS! YOU WATCHED, BUT YOU DID NOTHING! YOU UNGRATEFUL CHILD! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU-!"
"Enough!" the shadows dispersed after Lucy screamed at the top of her lungs. Sinking to her knees, the woman stared blankly at the distant windmill for a few seconds before bursting into tears.
"I'm sorry...I'm...sorry....mom," were the only things she murmured before she prostrated on the field of green, bawling her eyes out.
