Cognitive Deviance

25. Rose Garden

April 17, 2045 - 11:55 PM

Their territory may have expanded, but much of Philadelphia still remained beyond the reach of the SanityScans. Many saw it as a lack of safety; others saw it as a sign of freedom. Anywhere that wasn't within their range was left for dead, ready to succumb to insanity.

Deep in the Psycho Slums north of the city stood the remains of a shopping mall left to ruins like the city of Pompeii. It was abandoned years ago, its fall ensured by the rise of cyber-stores and delivery AI's. Now it stood as a monolith to the vagrants who couldn't afford to live within Psychwatch's territory along with those who refused to do so.

At the center of this two-story mall was a plaza, where a fountain stood in the middle of an intersection of pathways guiding others to new locations to drain their eWallets. There was a massive skylight towering above the plaza, encircling them like a rotunda, all of its glass shattered across the floor beneath it. Projectors tasked with illuminating the building with holographic advertisements flickered on and off, ghostly walls vanishing and returning in an endless cycle. And a horrible smell plagued the premises.

Dawson's bullet-riddled corpse lay at the top of a pile of corpses next to the fountain, the entire pile drenched in gasoline.

The Multi Man watched from the edge of the plaza as the bodies of his former comrades, those who died during their ambush on the Bod-Modders a week ago, were stacked up like a pyramid. With the new SanityScans installed in new neighborhoods, his followers had to find alternate routes through the Psycho Slums to smuggle the corpses to their hideout. The only ones left behind were the mutilated remains of the cyborgs they massacred and the masked men who fought an impossible fight against the incoming Psychwatch officers. Anyone else who wasn't one of them was brought to the outskirts, where no one would ever find them.

The Multi Man got one more glimpse of Dawson's blood-soaked mask before Whitey set the pile of corpses ablaze with a single match.

As soon as he let the match go, Whitey began gagging uncontrollably at the already-horrible scent that managed to grow exponentially more nauseating. He tried to bolt toward a trash can positioned at the edge of the plaza but dropped down on his knees a dozen feet away from it, and the poor boy spent the next few seconds vomiting on the floor. Many of the other masked men had to take their leave as well, some stopping abruptly to lose their lunch while others were simply disoriented by the stench of burning flesh.

The Multi Man predicted the crude cremation's assault on the senses, but he only bothered to warn Crimson and a tied-up Arthur Cohen, the two of them wearing gas masks and watching the smoke rise through the hole in the glass above them. It was a challenge for Arthur to keep his head up. Underneath the gas mask was a series of cuts and bruises inflicted on him by the Multi Man earlier, nothing too bad that it would permanently disfigure him. The pain medication also helped him endure the blows longer than anyone else.

"It looks so pretty," Crimson sighed as she gazed at the flames as if it were a lovely sunset.

"You're a fucking loony," Arthur groaned.

Crimson quickly jerked her head back toward Arthur. "What was that?"

"Nothing you probably haven't heard before."

Crimson continued staring at him, no longer interested in the raging inferno in front of her. Arthur couldn't tell, but she had the widest grin on her face underneath the mask, even while staring into his eyes with a look that could've killed a hundred people. Her hand slowly reached over her back toward the handle of her machete.

Then they all froze when they heard Whitey screaming.

The Multi Man rushed to the edge of the balcony overlooking the plaza. Whitey was backed up against the wall in a fetal position, having lost control of his breathing. He stared at the fire as if something would emerge from it, ready to drag him somewhere than this nightmare he was forever trapped in. He was very visibly scared, nearly on the verge of breaking down in tears, and his hand was gripped on his dagger.