Page 69 of Remnants: Disruption
“Fuck yourself,” he grins back.
“Why are all of you so goddamned mean?” I grumble, moving to the destroyed wall and sliding my helmet back over my head.
But he raises a fair point—what do I do now?
It’s not like I can stop Mary. She just showed that. No one has ever survived an encounter with her, so no one could tell me how to beat her. No one has ever been able to describe her. She’s a literal goddess walking amongst us.
And why exactly would I stop her to begin with?
Revenant was a serial killer. Fyre had devolved into serial homicide, too, in her final days. It’s not like Mary is killing innocent civilians.
I close my eyes for a moment and try to take a few cleansing breaths.
Leaping from the ruined second floor, I land lightly on the grass below. I pick a direction and walk.
As I shadow step at random, the fight with Mary—if you could even call it that—runs through my mind, frame by frame.
She had me begging for death but chose to let me continue this Sisyphean task of existing day by day. Maybe she feels I should be Contained. Or that someone else will do the deed for her.
Maybe the caretaker act was just for her own sadistic pleasure. Build me up just to watch me fall.
Well, Mary, jokes on you. I’m already fucked up. It isn’t hard to push over a two-legged stool.
Or whatever the saying is.
I step through a shadow and find myself standing at the perch overlooking Arthur’s Bookstore. The never-ending hum of the city starts to pick up in rhythm as early light peeks through the dense cloud coverage.
Bloody Mary can’t be stopped. I have no other leads for Malachi’s death. And the NCPD and Guild aren’t going to be convinced of my innocence on words alone.
I glance back down at Arthur’s. The inviting lights and steady aroma of coffee make up my mind for me.
Every prisoner needs their final meal.
Chapter 30
Ultimatum
Eight A.M., October 26th , 1030 A.D.
Nye Verden’s remaining city-states are few and far between. New Chicago and the Western Alliance are, by far, the most powerful. Yet, it’s the Order of Columbus that scares me most. That cult is far too willing to start a holy war.
Antonio Oz, After the Second Disruption, 1025 A.D.
Alice gives me a cursory once-over and a quick smile when I walk through the front door.
There’s only a few other patrons in the small shop, so I find my spot towards the back and wrap my jacket around the seat.
Alice’s tentative smile is enough to know she has no desire to discuss the run in with The Dark One, which is fine by me. I have no desire to lie today. To her or anyone.
Maybe ever again.
After my payment goes through, she hands me the steaming mug, and I move back to the chair. The coffee is just the right brand of scalding, warming me in a way that actually matters. It’ll be a good final meal.
My eyes wander the shelves until I see the section for Remnant history. Curiosity and a general “fuck it” attitude spur me to stand and examine the shelf properly.
Several titles look boring. Some are by known experts and others seem like biographies written by Guild members from after the war.
One, though, catches my eye. It’s the only one that looks short enough to read in single sitting, but it makes sense given the subject.
