Critical Rift

Part Four

XQVHH BRX ODWHU

Ivan woke up in a haze. His ears rang as he tried to listen for a clue of where he might be. His senses came in and out. His head lifted and his eyes slowly began to focus. Something red...

A switch clicked in his mind and he began to struggle, but someone had tethered his hands. He could hear yelling, but could barely make out coherent sentences.

"He's wake...! I... you this... bad idea!
"...shoot... Again! ...won't... Trouble!"

They were going to shoot him? Had he been shot? He tried to shake loose again.

"Oh no! He's waking up!"

Ivan's vision started to come back to him. But everything was... Different.

"My... My eye..." He stuttered.

"Oh no! You idiot! I told you that you set the ray too high!"

"It... I can't see..."

"We'll just wipe his memory and drop him in the main chamber."

Ivan finally came to enough to speak. "What's... going on?"

The two cult members started to tremble. If Ivan had ever known what they had done they would most definitely be in for it!

"Follow my lead." One whispered, "leader!" He shouted, "oh thank god you're okay!"

The other ran up just as quickly, "we thought you were a goner!"

As the two untied him, Ivan began to ask questions.

"What... happened?"

"Sir, It was horrible! They came in and ransacked the whole place, then wiped your mind of the whole incident!"

"Who?" Ivan asked, the two pulling him up onto his feet.

"Well... We... We got our minds wiped too! Nobody remembers who they were."

"Yeah!" The other was quick to agree.

Ivan's mind was still fuzzy, so he went along with it.

"My right eye-"

"Those idiots didn't know what they were doing! The ray must have hit one of your optic nerves."

Ivan nodded. After all, what these two told him would be all he knew of the incident. But for some reason he just couldn't pinpoint, he was upset in some way. Frustrated, and nearly fuming.

"I need to use the restroom..." He stated calmly, trying to keep hold of his composure.

The two cult members looked at each other nervously, but complied.

Ivan locked to door behind him. He slowly turned to face himself in the mirror. His eye... It was terribly red.

He was abruptly overcome with rage, smashing the mirror with his bare fist. The bits of glass strewed all over the room.

"Whats going on in there?!"

Ivan began to go on a complete rampage, kicking things about and punching the walls. The door was kicked down in a matter of moments and Ivan was restrained.

"Let go of me, you bastards!"

One of the two drew a blade, flicking it open. "Listen to me! If you don't calm down we'll wipe your mind again!"

Ivan grew silent and quit struggling. "You?"

"Listen, sir! It was for your own good, we promise!"

Ivan quickly escaped their grasp. The one cultist held up her blade, shaking uncontrollably. "S-stand back!"

"You wiped my mind? And then dared to lie to me?!" Ivan shouted. He lunged forward and tried to attack.

The hooded member started to violently swing her knife. Ivan was caught in the swipes and staggered back as the knife slashed his face. He yelled, staggering back and grasping his eye. A wound had opened and a hot, sticky puddle spread over the floor. He stood, frozen, holding his wound with his hands.

"Oh- oh my gosh..." The cultist stared at the wet blade in her hand.

"Sir?" The other spoke up.

Ivan slowly removed his hands from his face, looking at the fluids drip through his palm and fingers.

"Get me a needle and thread." He spoke blandly.

The innocent affiliate ran out of the restroom.

Ivan looked at the one pressed up against the wall.

"S-sir! I-"

"By tomorrow, this will all seem like a bad dream. You won't remember betraying me or even joining our society."

~°~

That night, Ivan wandered the chambers that laid under the museum. It was dark and quiet, silent except for the sound of Ivan's echoing footsteps. He found himself in the Hall of the Forgotten. Hundreds of tubes lined the shelves along the walls. He wondered, were those two right? Was it really for the best that his memories were gone? For all he had known he had witnessed a murder and wiping his mind was a kindness. He decided he was better off. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?

But for some reason he couldn't sleep that night. His mind was wandering left and right, pondering what karma might have in store. He was becoming frustrated, so he sat up in bed. He roughly rubbed his eyes. Why couldn't he put his finger in it? That thing that seemed to be poking in the back of his head. Everytime he was sure he had a grasp on it, it would slip through his fingers. He'd had enough.

Nearly destitute of vision, he stumbled to the bathroom. He flicked on the light, blinding him for a quick moment. His eye adjusted and he looked at himself in the mirror. He took a deep breath. He felt incomplete. Whatever was gone was important to him, but now he didn't have the faintest idea what it was. He absently reached for his razor, flicking it open. He stared at the silver blade for a moment, watching his reflection in the side. His wound was opening and blood had began to gather around his stitches. He looked in the mirror again. He calmly lifted the blade to his face. Slowly, inertly he touched it to his skin. Gently, he pressed it into his brow and soon broke the surface. He sighed deeply, taking in the pain. He began to drag it over his eye, splitting the skin and forcing it open. Blood trickled down his cheek, dripping onto the counter and soaking his clothes.
An X now marked his face, over his eye. He was now branded with the symbol of his people. From now on he was going to forget the past and look only to the future. He was going to help other's lives become brighter. He was going to look forward to wiping their minds.