(IM)MORTAL

14

⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆
THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

༶•┈┈୨ MARIA STARED OUT to sea, watching the water seethe and foam, albeit weak—so weak, pulled only by the waning strength of the permanent half-moon.

The brewing storm put her anxieties on hold; the black and grey clouds hid the crimson sky, darkening and bleeding deeper as the Black Comet neared, almost arrived.

One million faces would be unleashed. One by one, they would fall—starving beasts to feed on her planet. Pieces of Death, black as the night and red as her blood.

But Maria, she was somewhat ready. She was not useless this time. She had a gift—she had Chaos in her hands, destruction in her fingertips.

She was a shred of Death herself, she realised.

The sparks healed—but they also harmed.

The demon would not laugh in her face again. He would not watch her die a second time. He will not—her manta, her strength.

Footsteps caused her to stiffen, but just as quick as her muscles went taunt, they loosened. She saw his reflection in the window.

"Ivo . . ."

"Yes, my dear?" He turned to face her, but she did not face him, watching the sea chop and churn, and the black clouds flash white and yellow. The rain had yet to fall, chaos above still brewing.

         "Could all of this have been prevented?"

(The bloody massacre, her murder,
the electric chair, the secrets;
the never-ending locks and keys.)

(These fifty years of sadness.)

         He walked up to the sliding glass door, joining her side, watching the world beyond the glass. He clasped his hands together behind him, back and shoulders straight.

. . . Unbeknownst to them, the Robotniks were mirroring the past.

Standing before a glass, cut off from the outside world, staring out into such simple beauty most people took for granted.

But instead of Earth and its peaceful rotation, there was an angry ocean in its place. The sun was not rising over the planet; it was hidden in the blackened clouds, a prisoner of the storm.

The most important piece: Shadow was missing, and Maria's hand was empty, lacking his touch, his warmth, his love.

With the reminder, her hand clenched tight and tighter and tightest at her side until her bones screamed for the agony to stop.

"I would like to believe so," Ivo answered at last. "Perhaps, if the Professor had relented and sent ev'ryone home . . . Shut down the lab, ended the experiments . . . Perhaps they would have allowed us to live in peace. In solitude. Hidden away, a secret, but left alone."

         Ivo's voice, tone, and eyes darkened, blacker than the storm clouds. "But he refused. Resisted. Fought back. And G.U.N. came, and put an end to it themselves with the only method they deem wise."

(Death.)

         Maria's ears began to ring at the memory. The gunfire, the screams, the bodies hitting the floor—including her own. And Shadow's scream; the demon's laugh.

Her knees liquified. She fell to the plush carpet. Ivo did not hesitate to kneel, taking her arm.

"I didn't know there had been a choice." Her whisper was scarcely heard, for it was scarcely spoken. "I thought they just came."

         Like the demon came, she did not say. Could not say. Like he is coming now.

(Came and devoured,
licking blood off fingers,
laughing at the despair.)

         "Grandfather had a choice, and he choose the hard way. Such a fool." She slammed her fist on the glass at fool, cracking the sliding door. An enormous spiderweb stretched all out, distorting the image.

"Perhaps he thought they would not honour their end," wondered Ivo. His eyes had not yet looked away from the broken glass, equally afraid and impressed. "That death was the result, regardless to the choice, so he chose to go down fighting instead of going quietly."

"Even so. He chose the difficult path. The worse option." Maria traced the fractals, slicing her skin, bleeding—but silver sparks weaved in and out, healing the wounds instantly.

The pain reminded her that she was alive. The blood on the glass reminded her that she was human.

They met eyes, equally blue and full of fear.

"Have they found him yet?" She feared the answer either way. Yes meant he was locked away or tortured or dead. No meant he was alone.

Ivo shook his head. "Rouge is a pain in my ass, but she can be trusted." At Maria's confusion, he went on. "She protects her own," he clarified. "When she found out the hidden meaning of her mission, she chose him over the humans in a heartbeat."

He smiled to himself at the thought, impressed; glad.

Hope bloomed in Maria's chest in small blossoms. If Rouge was an ally . . .

"When can I see him?"

At Ivo's pained expression, those flowers died just as quickly as they came.

"As soon as I find her."

Cubot burst his way in between them, interrupting—and spoiling the moment. "Then pretty soon! Rouge shouldn't be hard to find, Boss!"

Ivo snorted and shook his head in exasperation. "You'd be surprised. She can only be found when she wants to be." And, because he could not help it, he added, "Idiot."

Cubot sank. "Oh."

He stood, helping Maria to her feet as he did so, and with his robot twins in tow, Ivo hurried to the laboratory, to his computer.

Maria turned back to the storm outside.

It began to rain, the clouds crying.

She cried, too.