Page 10 of Remnants: Disruption
Unknown
The figure is dressed in a robe. Their hands extended out, reaching for your throat. No face is visible, but you can feel their grin.
“Arya,” the strangely accented voice says, sounding almost upset that they must punish you. “It’s time. You’re too far gone. You’ve done too much.”
The figure picks you up by the throat, air cutting off at once.
Chapter 7
Shadow
Noon, October 22nd, 1030 A.D.
Containment is a hoax. There’s no way anyone could stop someone like Darkrend, Titan, Omen, or Bloody Mary. Hell, how would you even stop the Dark One?
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“Shit,” I gasp out, feeling my heart thump erratically as my dingy apartment blinks back into view. Red light paints the far wall from the Affliction slushing past in the piping outside.
The entire room looks surreal as the nightmarish figure passes from my mind. Her voice again firm in her determination to doll out a punishment I probably deserve. She—if the figure is a she—almost sounded disappointed that I had let her down.
Welcome to the fucking club, lady.
Shadows undulate in my vision, the corners of my living room holding figures that aren’t there. Figures that never moved on. Never left this side of the plane.
Figures that weren’t there a few months ago. I reach behind me to the lamp and flick it on, illuminating the room and decimating the figures.
I swing my feet over the arm of the couch and plant them firmly on the ground. Letting out a grunt, I stand and make my way to my bedroom where I select a different, but equally dark, blouse to replace the crumpled one I’d slept in.
Moving to the bathroom, I strip off the sundered clothing and find the bottle of perfume I’ve been meaning to replace. Glancing back in the mirror, I shudder at the pale goblin looking back at me.
“At least I have abs,” I murmur, padding the bottle against my wrists and rubbing them against my neck. “Probably because I don’t eat enough.”
I slip the other blouse back over my body and redo my braid as I search the kitchen for a protein bar. Of course, my favorite flavor was missing—it would be.
Forgoing food, I grab my coat and make my way down to the ground floor of the lower east side of NC. The weather is just a miserable as it had been this morning, but at least now it’s daylight-ish.
The precinct would be easy enough to teleport to. But teleporting leads to questions I don’t want to answer. So, I pull out my dPhone and tab through the ads and notifications of more ads. Then find the ad that blocks my access to the car service.
After the ad plays, I order something cheap.
I click my message app and see one from Percy from earlier this morning.
Hey, just a heads up—Bellick and McRoberts are on a warpath. And by that, I mean they want in on our cases, and I can’t exactly stop them.
I groan as I shoot back:
Fuck. Omw.
The two morons from the Remnant Crimes division were always hell bent on getting involved in Homicide’s cases. They got even more annoying when they sniffed out possible Remnant involvement.
I glance around at the crowds moving about their days. The early fall chill has yet to deter New Chicagoans from being out and about. A dark-haired woman passes me on the sidewalk, her perfume spicy and fresh in tandem. A blonde across the street from me gives me a strange look as she passes, a dPhone pressed to her ear.
The car pulls up a few minutes later, the man inside almost entirely rebuilt in bionics, his wiring tinged in red from Affliction and blood. I give him a small nod and slide into the rear seat. He says nothing as we pull out onto the freeway.
New Chicago’s skyscrapers are bathed in red smog as we wind deeper into the belly of the capitalist beast. After what feels like far too short of time, the precinct comes into view.
Unlike other buildings in New Chicago, the NCPD is built down into the earth. In times like these, it doesn’t hurt to be certain that it would take a tier 5 disaster to pull the whole building apart. So, unless someone like Darkrend or Gargantua comes around, the bunker is relatively protected.
