Hey everyone. Sorry it's been so long. Things IRL have been so goddamn hectic that I couldn't focus on writing as much as I would have liked. The weather really hasn't helped. Seriously. Mother nature needs to make up her goddamn mind. At any rate, I have a new story to share with you! …and some news. More on that in the AN at the end of the chapter.
A quick thing before we start this proper. As some of you might know already, I published a book on amazon titled "Chase Ryder and the City of Lost Memories". If you are interested in supporting me financially or just enjoy my works in general, please consider giving the book a look. I recommend kindle and paperback as they're the cheapest option.
With that shill out of the way, let's get this story started.
"Have you thought this through? I mean, chewed down to the bone? You got out once. You dip so much as a pinky back into this pond… you may well find something reaches out… and drags you back into its depths." —Winston Scott, John Wick
Reggie Rowe wondered what he did to deserve this.
Barring a few minor hiccups throughout his life such as the time he stole a car to impress his ex-girlfriend and the time he broke some punk's nose back in high school, life was good. He had a loving family, a troublesome younger brother, and led a respectable life. After his parents died, he took on their responsibilities and shaped himself up. He joined the police force, and was now the town's local sheriff. In a small little place like Salmon Bay, news traveled fast. In a close-knit community as the Akomish, there was a celebration.
His brother decided to amp things up the only way he knew how: Desecrating the billboard by the fish cannery.
Reggie honestly lost count how many times Delsin defaced the billboard. Betty, bless that woman's soul, never cared much for it and often joked about how Delsin's "art" spruced it up. The more respectful Rowe begrudgingly admitted that some of his brother's artwork was impressive, it still did not change the fact he was defacing public property.
Akomish property at that!
"For god's sake," Reggie groaned as he stared at the billboard. Before Deslin got his hands on his spray can, it advertised his recent promotion to town sheriff. The damn thing was embarrassing enough as is, not helped by the stiff smile he forced himself to wear when he posed for the picture. Delsin made the image somewhat hilarious, if disrespectful by giving him cartoony hands, each holding a donut and gun respectively. The less said about the face, the better.
The older Rowe dragged a hand down his face in exasperation. He was never the perfect replacement for their parents, he knew that the day he decided to raise Delsin on his own with the tribe's help. Their father knew his little brother better than Reggie ever could. Even so, Reggie felt as if he screwed up somewhere with how often his brother took to applying his "art" to the local shops, billboards, or god forbid even the precinct.
Sighing and preparing a speech in his head, vainly hoping he could get Delsin to stop these childish acts and act his age for once, Reggie marched up the stairs leading up to the cannery entrance. He stopped in surprise when the door opened, revealing a grinning Delsin Rowe.
"Well," he spread his arms out. "What do you think?!"
Reggie blinked in surprise. He honestly expected Delsin to book it out the Longhouse. That his brother was willingly giving himself up shocked him, but only for a second. Irritation bubbled to the surface, followed by annoyance.
It must have showed on his face because Delsin's grin dropped. "What, you don't like it?"
"Do you have
any idea how embarrassing it is for me to arrest my brother, over and over again?" Reggie said. "H-how many times does this make now? You've been at this all week! Seriously Delsin, do I need to come up with an excuse to keep you behind bars for longer than a day?!"
He wasn't sure what got into Delsin's head, but from Sunday onwards, his brother started some kind of hot streak. He created some of his most outlandish designs to date and spread them all across town, sometimes in public places and most out of sight. His most famous "artpiece" to date was yesterday when he spraypainted the side of the precinct, creating a mockery of the Statue of Liberty as she presided over court. It earned a few laughs from his colleagues, but Reggie was quickly losing his patience.
"C'mon Reg, lighten up," Delsin rolled his eyes. "It ain't like I went and killed somebody."
"That isn't the point, Delsin!"
His brother chuckled, much to his irritation. Why wouldn't he take this more seriously? "Calm down, Reggie. Paint's still fresh, so cleaning it up will be easy. Besides, how else am I supposed to get my last couple licks in before I have to rent a U-Haul?"
Reggie's irritation faded momentarily. "Why would you need a U-Haul?"
"Well, considering I'll be moving to Seattle in, like, a week…"
It took him a second to realize what his brother meant. Reggie's eyes widened, and allowed himself to smile. "Seattle? You mean you—i-is the paperwork all filled out? Everything's settled?"
"You know it!" Delsin cowed excitedly. "You, brother dearest, are looking at a new man who's gonna take Seattle by storm. I guarantee, by the end of this month, you'll be seeing Rowe's Art Studio in the newspaper."
"Delsin, th-that's
great!" The brothers hugged one another, Reggie patting his brother on the back.
It surprised him at first when Delsin first broke the news. Around a year ago, his brother decided he was going to start up his own art studio and leave Salmon Bay. The Akomish were saddened, but elated to hear the news, especially the older folks who were slightly happy to know that their resident art junkie and troublemaker was growing up. Reggie was especially elated since his brother was finally taking his first steps. It hurt to know he was leaving home, but Reggie always knew how dissatisfied Delsin was with Salmon Bay. He loved his home, he did, but it was too small for him. He wanted to see more of the world, find new experiences to provide inspiration, meet new people who shared in his aesthetics.
The source of this change in behavior was well known to the tribe, seeing as how they adopted her as one of their own. It was still crazy to think about, finding a woman half-dead on the beach with two bullet holes in the back of her head. She didn't remember anything about herself at first, couldn't talk or even recognize
words, but as months went by, she got better. When she was back up on her feet, the Akomish offered her a home.
Reggie was not entirely sure when and how Delsin got involved with her. His brother claimed they met when she happened upon him making a new art piece, but the way he blushed implied there was a lot more. He had half a mind to wonder if it was love at first sight, as cheesy as it sounded. Thankfully, there was no romance between them, just awkward teenage energy. They hadn't started dating until a year ago, around the same time Delsin made the decision to start a new life elsewhere.
With this news, Reggie realized the truth behind Delsin's art rampage throughout the week. It was his going away gift, his final chance to cause mischief before he left Salmon Bay for greener pastures.
"Our little Delsin is growing up," Betty said as she hobbled out of the cannery, her smile reaching from ear to ear. "Oh, how I'm going to miss you."
"It ain't like I'm leaving
forever," Delsin insisted. "I'll come back to visit everyone! And annoy the hell out of Reggie."
"Gee, thanks. I'm really feeling the love here, Delsin," Reggie rolled his eyes. "You also realize I'm still taking you to the precinct after the party's over, right?"
"Yeah, yeah…"
Betty hugged Delsin tighter than normal, as if this really was the last time he would see him again. The Rowes got into the car and drove off toward the Longhouse. Reggie wondered if everyone else heard the news, and if they hadn't, what their reactions would be.
"In other news," his car radio said as he drove. "Discussions with Earth Gimel about relief efforts and inter-Earth support are still ongoing, even amid the recent scandals surrounding Congresswoman Sims and the Department of Unified Protection. The White House remains in a heated political deadlock surrounding the decision to support said relief efforts, with Congressman White spearheading the Pro-Conduit movement and support for peaceful cohabitation with so-called "parahuman" Earth Bet refugees. Congresswoman Sims, meanwhile, remains adamant about the dangers posed by superhuman individuals—"
"They're still on about that?" Delsin muttered under his breath. "It's been five years already."
"Change doesn't happen overnight," Reggie replied neutrally. "Especially when it comes to honest-to-god parallel Earth politics. I wonder what mom would say if she saw this?"
Five years ago, the world changed substantially when the existence of parallel Earths came to light. Natural disasters happening simultaneously worldwide, Australia being viciously upended and ripped apart, cracks in the sky; the doomsday cults had a field day amid the chaos. Instantly, everyone thought it to be the work of a powerful bio-terrorist. Their fears were partially proven when superhuman individuals suddenly appeared, acting as "ambassadors" for a place called Earth Gimel. It was a confusing nightmare to say the least, especially with what happened after their appearance. It took two months for the chaos to quell and for their words to be proven.
The revelation that there were parallel Earths, some with their own superhumans, shook the world. The U.S., if not the world at large, had problems with superpowered individuals. Bio-terrorists were still a threat, more so when parahumans of other worlds became classified as such. It was not uncommon for news stations to report on the delicate, fragile moments of peace between regular people and superhumans after major shake-ups. Not helping was the government's flip-flop attitude. Congress couldn't make up their minds, though it seemed like someone got fed up with the indecision and took matters into their own hands.
Reggie preferred not to think about the talk of bio-terrorists or parallel Earth stuff. He valued his normalcy—the normal, day-to-day life of Salmon Bay where only minor offenses happened.
"Y'know, I was reading up on Earth Bet," Delsin said suddenly. "They apparently had giant monsters. Endbringers, I think they called them. Reminds me of that giant bio-terrorist that popped up, what was it, seven years ago."
"You mean the one that nearly destroyed New Marais," Reggie recalled.
"Do you think that guy could've been a parahuman?"
"Does it matter?"
Delsin shrugged. "I guess not. Still makes me wonder…"
"What brought this on, anyhow? Last I checked, you preferred reading about superhumans in comic books."
"My girl was looking at some news article on her computer the other day about Earth Bet. I didn't ask her about it, but she looked…" He sighed. "She looked pretty down. I can't say I blame her, though. That place got wrecked to shit, and now everyone there's struggling to get the hell out of dodge."
"They're lucky to be alive at all," Reggie agreed somberly.
He thought back to what happened to their parents. His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"You okay there, Reg?" Delsin asked, noticing how tense his brother looked.
He smiled. "I'm fine, Delsin."
Delsin said nothing, but Reggie knew he saw through the lie.
They arrived at the Longhouse in record time. The sounds of loud speaker music practically screamed through the walls and could wake the dead. "Oh, like hell I'm gonna miss this," Delsin cackled as he rushed his way to the door. Reggie rolled his eyes and followed after him. "Kinda sucks Taylor's missing this, though."
"How's she doing, anyway?"
"She's on her way home, filled out the rest of the paperwork. We should be able to start using the apartment by the end of next week. Right now, we're just moving stuff to the studio and…" Delsin suddenly trailed off, looking past Reggie and at the street. "What the hell…?"
Reggie frowned and looked behind him, just in time to see the black armored truck bearing the D.U.P. insignia smash headfirst into his car and fall on its side.
For a few seconds, everything went stock still. Reggie could only stare, mouth agape and eyes bulging. Reality caught up as smoke started pouring out. "Stay here!" he ordered—
demanded Delsin as he unholstered his gun and made his way to the armored car.
Delsin watched, unsure what to do as his brother went to see if there were anyone injured. Reggie soon gave chase as two people in orange jumpsuits, maybe bio-terrorists or convicts, left the armored car and ran down the street. As he wondered what to do, Delsin heard someone calling out for help from the direction of the armored car. His legs moved on autopilot.
He went around the armored car and found a man in the same jumpsuit as the others, trapped under warped metal panels. "H-hey, can you help me?" the man asked weakly. The smoke stung his and Delsin's eyes, making the latter's watery. Delsin nonetheless moved to help him, prying the warped panel off the man and helping him up to his feet. "Shiiiit… Thanks a bunch, man."
"Y-yeah, no prob…lem…" Delsin's eyes widened as he watched the smoke swirl around the man, faint red embers filling into his body. The scuff marks and burns under the torn patches of his jumpsuit healed. "What the…?"
"HEY! HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" Reggie suddenly appeared from across the car, pointing his gun at the man.
Delsin's world swam, suddenly finding a burly arm wrapped around his neck. "I don't want any trouble," the man insisted as he held out a hand. The smoke swirled around it like a cobra, coalescing and centering into his palm. "Just leave me be!"
"Let him go!
Now!"
The man scowled. The smoke exploded from his hand like a rocket and smashed into Reggie's shoulder. Delsin watched his brother fall to the ground, clutching his shoulder and groaning in pain. He saw red, anger exploding through him. He grabbed the man's outstretched hand, aiming to break a thumb or something and—
A bank robbery gone wrong. Men in white coats. A woman glaring down at him from behind glass panels. A little girl.
A "golden opportunity".
Delsin groaned, feeling every iota of his being throbbing in pain. His leg in particular felt like total garbage. The vivid sensation of concrete cutting through flesh and bone was still fresh in his mind, as was the cold expression of that bitch who…who…
"Craaap…"
"Delsin?"
The young man opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light. He saw a wooden ceiling lined with electrical wires and lights. Over him was a woman with long black hair and glasses, looking over him with relief and concern.
"Taylor?" he bit out. "What're you… Wait… What's going on?"
He forced himself up, wincing as his back popped in protest. His girlfriend didn't answer him at first. Not until he saw where he was. It was the Longhouse, except there were no party banners or streamers flying about like he expected. Instead, he saw partitions and medical barriers, medical equipment and discarded bandages scattered all over the floor. Through the translucent partitions, he saw silhouettes of people in casts, arms and/or legs propped up with
something sticking out. The shape was too jagged to be a bone.
"What…is all this?" Delsin breathed in confusion. "H-how long have I been out?"
"A day," Taylor told him morosely. "I got back the same time the D.U.P. packed up and left."
"The D.U.P.?"
Suddenly, it came rushing back to Delsin. He remembered helping the Conduit—Hank Daughtry and touching his hand, suddenly seeing visions, images—no,
memories he realized belatedly; they were memories—of his past. He was running after him, hoping he could undo whatever happened to him. Reggie's petrified face when he saw what he could do, the fear they had when he couldn't stop the smoke from pouring out of him… He hoped it was all a nightmare, but reality was staring him dead in the face.
He raised his hand, clenching it to force the smoke out. Small black wisps slithered across the skin of his palms.
Delsin wanted to cry. Taylor grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. "I thought it was a bad dream," he laughed bitterly. "But it's not, is it? I… I'm a Conduit."
"…I'm so sorry this happened, Delsin," Taylor said after a moment of silence, wearing the strangest expression on her face.
He wasn't sure what she was apologizing for. Did she think this was her fault somehow?
"…what happened, Taylor?" Delsin asked, focusing on the tribe than himself. "I barely even remember yesterday as is."
"It's…better if I showed you."
She did.
Taylor led him around the Longhouse. He saw what became of the tribe, of his family. The silhouettes painted a disgusting picture, a horrible one, but the x-ray photos made his stomach curl. Part of him didn't want to believe it, that he was still dreaming.
Then he saw Betty and the concrete chunks sticking out of her leg.
I did this…
He lied. Delsin
lied, pretending not to know anything. He told Brooke Augustine nothing about what happened. He couldn't bear to look Betty in the face, knowing full well what he'd just condemned the Akomish to. Delsin thought she wouldn't go too far, maybe rough them up a little. He should have known.
He should have known. The concrete chunks seemed to laugh at his distress, a blatant reminder of his sin.
I did this…
Betty was in pain. She tried to hide it with that pretty smile, the same one he grew up around, but he could see the cringes, the way she shifted uncomfortably, how she shifted her leg ever so slightly. She tried to reassure him, tell him everything was going to be fine. Like Delsin, she lied.
I did this…
If it weren't for Taylor, he would have broken down crying. Despite what he had done, despite what he
was, no one said anything. They told Augustine nothing. They kept his secret.
He should have been relieved. He should have been happy to know he wasn't going to whatever kind of shithole Curdin Cay was, but it was a bitter taste.
Delsin practically collapsed into the nearest chair he could find. His shoulders sagged, hanging his head low. "This is all my fault."
"Delsin…" Taylor sat down next to him and held his hand. Her hand was warm. "This isn't your fault. None of us could have known what was going to happen. If anyone's to blame, it's Augustine."
"You don't get it, Taylor. This happened because I
lied to Augustine," Delsin hissed. "When I… When I started spewing smoke, I tried to make Hank tell me how to fix it, control it. When I touched his hand, something happened. I saw his memories. How he got his powers, what he did with them. I saw what happened to the Conduits the D.U.P. locks up. It's like fucking Alcatraz. I didn't want to go there. I was scared. I told Augustine I didn't know anything or what Hank said. Because I lied, the tribe got hurt. Mark, Casey, Betty…" Tears rolled down his cheeks. "They got hurt because of
me."
Taylor said nothing, but her hand remained. Her grip was solid. The warmth was the only comfort.
The back-entrance to the Longhouse opened. "Oh, thank god," Reggie practically screamed when he saw Delsin. "I thought you were never gonna wake up." The younger Rowe looked up. Somehow, Reggie was the only person in Salmon Bay besides Taylor without concrete in him. It brought him some relief to know Reggie was spared from the experience. "You scared the hell out of me, Del."
"Sorry," Delsin said sincerely.
Reggie suddenly grew concerned. "So, erm… The smoke thing. Is that, uh, still a thing?"
Delsin raised his hand, smoke wafting around his fingers. His brother's face fell. "Sorry, man. Looks like you're eternally stuck with a criminal for a brother." He shook his head. Self-loathing faded in favor of anger, thinking back to Augustine and what she did. "How the hell did she get away with this? H-how is
any of this remotely okay? Isn't this like police brutality or something?!"
"Not for them," Taylor grimaced. "The D.U.P. is allowed certain…liberties when apprehending Bio-Terrorists or suspected Bio-Terrorists. Any restrictions they
did have grew lax when parahumans showed up. There's no way to tell parahumans from Conduits."
"That doesn't make this okay…"
"I know, Del," Reggie squeezed his shoulder. "I'm not happy about this either. Let's just be glad this is
all they did."
Delsin wasn't happy. How could this have been any worse? He couldn't take it anymore. This place felt suffocating. He couldn't look at them anymore. "I'm going for a walk," he said and stood up.
Reggie balked. "Are you kidding? Delsin, you
just woke up. Your leg was a pincushion!"
"I'm feelin' fine besides my leg being sore," he shrugged. "Maybe Conduits just heal fast? C'mon, man, you know I don't like sitting still in one place. Besides, I don't want to get in the way of everyone's recovery, you know?"
Delsin knew something was wrong the moment Reggie's face went pale and Taylor's expression tightened. She looked away, unable to look him in the eye. "What's with those looks?" he asked. "Everyone's going to be fine, right? I mean, as soon as we get a good doctor, they'll be right as rain. Right?" When they didn't answer, Delsin felt a cold chill settle down his spine. "…why aren't you two saying anything? They're going to be fine, right?"
They still said nothing.
"R-right?!"
Reggie bit his lower lip. "…no," he said quietly. "They won't be."
"The concrete's practically stuck in them like glue," Taylor grimly followed up. "We tried to get them out, even using power tools. Nothing worked. They won't come out. The only way they will is if we find a parahuman who can safely remove the concrete shards…or if Augustine herself removes them."
Delsin felt his world spin. His legs were wobbly.
This can't be happening, he thought in dismay. The guilt threatened to consume him all over again.
This is all my fault. I should've just told Augustine I was a Conduit, then none of this shit would've happened! God, what the hell was I thinking?!
He never hated himself more than this moment. He wanted to scream, to shout, do something that would abate the despair and anger even a little. A stray thought made its way into his head. He brought this upon the tribe, but it was Augustine who hurt them. She was the only one who could heal them. If he could just find her and force her to undo all this, then everything would be fine.
Oh, who am I kidding, Delsin scoffed at himself.
That's a goddamn suicide mission. What else am I supposed to do, just sit by and watch Betty and the others waste away? There's gotta be somethin', like take her powers or…or…
Delsin blinked and stared at his hands in wonder. What if it could work? It was crazy and just as suicidal as the last plan that cropped inside his head, but when he thought about it…
"Delsin?" Taylor called out. "What's wrong?"
"…that guy, Hank," Delsin started. "He could control smoke. Absorb it and shoot it out of his hands. Turn into the stuff. When I touched his hand, I could do that too. Not shoot it, I mean, just the turning-into-smoke deal."
Reggie frowned. "Okay, and? Maybe he just spread it to you?"
"Or… I copied him."
"What?"
"You remember X-Men, right? Remember Rogue, the goth-looking chick? She could copy other mutants powers by touching them."
Taylor stared. "Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you are."
"Look, I know it sounds crazy—"
"
Crazy?" Reggie scoffed. "More like insane! Delsin, listen to yourself! Brooke Augustine is in charge of the D.U.P.! She's been hunting down Bio-Terrorists for seven years, and has a whole group with military training under her! They wouldn't even let you within a mile near her!"
Delsin threw his hands up in frustration. "Then what am I supposed to do, Reg?!" he shouted in his brother's face. The burst of anger took him off guard. "Betty and the others are dyin' because of me! Augustine put those shards in 'em, but I put them in her crosshairs. They're dying because of
me. If there's even a slight chance this could work, I'm taking it."
He took a deep breathe. "I am
not losing anymore of my family to Bio-Terrorists. Especially not to that concrete bitch."
With those words, any resistance from Reggie died a swift death. He opened his mouth to offer some sort of rebuttal, only to close his mouth and grimace. Eventually, he sighed in defeat and ran his fingers through his hair. "…of all the times you had to grow up."
"Delsin, are you absolutely sure about this?" Taylor asked. "This isn't like a comic book. You could end up hurt, or worse. One screw up, and the D.U.P. is going to cart you off to Curdin Cay."
"That's a risk I'm willing to take."
There was no other option. Delsin fucked up in the worst way possible, and he was going to do everything in his power to fix it. He had the power to do it. He didn't understand how it worked, and for all he knew, it was a one-off thing. He still had to try.
"…alright, fine," Reggie sighed again. "I'll load up the truck, then."
Delsin's face brightened. "You serious, Reggie?"
"You can't expect me to just sit by while my brother goes and tries to get himself killed, do you?" the older Rowe snorted. "And knowing your luck, you'd get arrested."
"I'll fill up my motorbike, then," Taylor said.
Delsin grinned. "You two are the best!"
He learned only too late just how complicated the self-imposed task of saving the Akomish was going to be…
TO BE CONTINUED IN:
In The Way
Sucker Punch has and always will be one of my favorite game developers. The first game of theirs I ever played growing up as the kid was Sly Cooper and the Thievius Raccoonus. To date, with the exception of games predating Sly Cooper, I have played everything they've released. My all time favorite game of theirs, to this day, is Ghost of Tsushima.
Before Ghost of Tsushima, my favorite game was inFAMOUS: Second Son. Despite the problems that game had, it was fucking phenomenal. So, I thought to myself, "if I make a Worm/inFAMOUS crossover, which game should I dump Taylor in"? The answer was obvious.
I should also mention that I've always played Good Karma. I'm like my mother in that, unless acting like a douche is necessary for a good outcome, I can't be a dick.
Onto more news… I now have a P a treon account. (sigh) I'll be honest, I'm not really happy about this. I'm not doing too well financially, and my family is in for some rough times with how problematic things are at home where bills are concerned. Still, this was the only other avenue I could think of since I don't plan on going to an actual publishing house until after I finish my Chase Ryder book series.
As of right now, I don't have any paywalled content, namely because I'm still working out the kinks. Until now, I've avoided p a treon like the fucking plague.
I want to make it clear that p a treon is a last resort for me. I tried job hunting…aaaaand all five places I applied to told me I didn't fit what they wanted for an employee.
Eff. My. Life.
