\ Realm of Reality /
“Mmph- wha?” Scarlett plaints, sinking into the seat of a hospital waiting room with her arms crossed, struggling to keep her eyes open as Vic slaps her arm. “You need to stay awake” Vic remarks, extending a foam cup of black coffee toward her friend. “They didn’t have any sugar?” Scarlett wonders aloud, pushing herself up by the armrests as Vic claims the seat beside her. Her eyes rolling, Vic takes a brief swig from the flimsy container, pressing her teeth as the bitterness hits her tongue. “This isn’t supposed to be dessert” Vic sarcastically replies, a comforted sigh leaving her throat as she sinks into the soft seat cushion. “Still, we can’t at least enjoy it?” Scarlett responds, watching Vic tilt her head back with her eyes closed, trying to make whatever comfort she can manage. Returning the favour, Scarlett slaps Vic’s arm with the back of her hand, earning a much similar response to the one she’d given Vic. “Payback” Scarlett jokes, resting further into her seat to a chorus of Vic’s laughter. “I wasn’t falling asleep unlike you!” Vic jokes, jutting into Scarlett’s arm with her elbow in a playful manner. Mid-sip, Scarlett’s arm tilts higher up, the foam cup spilling a sizeable amount of piping hot coffee down Scarlett’s chin and neck. “Fuck, I’m so sorry!” Vic apologises, her earlier laughter now made stronger, unable to be held back. Mouth open, Scarlett’s arms extend outward, the cup held before her as the steaming beverage runs down her chest, dark stains running from the collar of her light blue t-shirt. “It’s a really good look on you, though!” Vic merrily mocks, the look of humoured astonishment on Scarlett’s face accompanying her breathy laughter, amused by her own misfortunes. “Don’t be, I’m just as sorry!” Scarlett soon replies, the brim of her cup lowered as the remainder of the beverage leaves it, thrown into Vic’s face in a moment of comical retaliation. “Oh, you fucker!” Vic exclaims, wiping her eyes as her head shakes, trying to soothe the initial pain of a scorching brew running down her face. “Oh, is that what I am?” Scarlett replies, offered a sudden reprieve from her exhaustion as she leaps from her seat, retreating from Vic in preparation for return fire. “You’re damn right!” Vic shouts mid-giggle, following Scarlett’s lead as she, too, emerges from her seat. Her knees bent, Vic wields her foam cup like a weapon, the two young women smiling as she nears, able to savour the joy of youth if even for just the moment. Lowering herself close to the ground, Scarlett mimics Vic’s stance, one step in reverse taken for each step Vic takes forward, the room available to manoeuvre decreasing rapidly. Bobbing her head forward, Vic feigns pushing her arm forward, watching Scarlett flinch with each display, the blonde expectating every bluff to be the true assault. Her advancement stopped, Vic looks Scarlett in the eyes, no longer pretending that any faked extension of the cup could be the real deal. No room left to retreat, Scarlett presses her palms and lower back against the drywall, prepared to evade the oncoming attempt with a smile on her face, the ends of her hair wetted. The moment built into, Vic empties the cup forward, leaving Scarlett no warning to work off, only her anticipation to provide an answer. In the same breath as the cup emptying, Scarlett removes her hand from the wall and throws her fist to the ground, Vic’s attempts thwarted as time itself ceases, leaving the hot beverage to suspend in the air halfway between them. Throwing herself to an unoccupied side of the room, Scarlett grants the world permission to resume, rolling to a stop as the coffee collides with the wall, slowly running to the ground. “You can’t-!” Vic remarks, eyes and mouth widened, impressed with the woman’s display, though not wanting to admit it, “you’re such a fucking cheater!” “I’d prefer the term ‘scrappy’” Scarlett replies, tongue pressed against the inside of her molar tooth whilst Vic stands across the room from her, head shaking as her hands sit upon her hips. Disappointed, Vic’s eyes wander to their seats, able to offer as little as Scarlett can, the conversation dying as quickly as the childish banter that had paired with it. With the laughter having fallen aside, the room goes quiet, the girls left to look to each other from a fair distance apart, neither one wanting to interrupt the silence for reasons they can’t explain. As a few seconds pass, Scarlett’s smile lessens, a similar reaction to that of Vic’s, their teeth hiding behind their lips as they close, held within a state of peaceful happiness. Empty and unoccupied, the room’s doors remain closed, windows shut and locked tight, the girls holding its floors for themselves, forced to share its centre with no one. “You are my family” Vic remarks, her voice the only sound to register throughout the room, “you’re the only person I’ve had in life since they died. I don’t care if we’re not related by blood- you’re family.” Her eyes lowering, Scarlett lifts her thumb to her face, a tear wiped from her eyes before it’s offered the opportunity to fall. Her emotions beginning to swell, Scarlett directs her eyes back toward Vic, her hand gently swaying through the air. “I didn’t expect any of this to happen how it has” Scarlett responds, her voice clearly affected by the fervent billow within her core, “everything’s happened so fucking fast, Vic.” “I know” Vic murmurs, her own tears beginning to surface, her breaths more difficult to come by, “I don’t know how we keep managing to do it!” A happy chuckle brought upon both girls, Scarlett remains quiet, the floor left for Vic’s words to occupy. “It’s just gonna keep getting harder” Vic proclaims, letting free a frustrated sigh, accepting the journey that still lays ahead, “we may not deserve some of the absolute shit we get- but if there’s anyone that’s gonna handle it-” “-It’ll be us” Scarlett interjects, watching Vic smile as she nods, their shared thought agreed upon. “It’ll be us” Vic repeats, her forearm running past her eyes, the tears that run down the side of her face wiped aside. Their joy returned, Scarlett and Vic meet in the space that sits between them, their arms wrapped around each other as they embrace, acknowledging what is to come as one, united force as opposed to one divided. After a few moments, the room finally fills with life, West’s cane-aided limp pushing through a set of doors at the room’s rear, his arm pressed against its inside as he hobbles through. Pulling apart, the girls turn to face the man they still hold a shared dislike for, his troubled expression easy to notice despite his head being hung. “He was in pretty bad shape” West grumbles, walking through the doorway as he travels to the nearest empty seat. “Shattered bones, busted ribs, punctured lungs- you name it” West remarks, groaning as he lowers himself into the nearest seat, Scarlett and Vic slowly approaching, their distance kept. “Apparently, it was a miracle he’d still been alive as long as he was” West explains, his eyes falling further as his head sinks into his hand. “I guess it’s safe to assume Lincoln’s hand played a part in this” Scarlett replies, hands left on her hips as her own head hangs, Vic’s mind settling upon solutions. “Alright, so now we figure out what he’s keeping them for” Vic replies, stepping away from the group as he begins to pace, deliberately stepping on the same, space grey-coloured tiles. “He could kill them like my dad and my friends, but they’re different in some way” Scarlett interposes, trying to aid the woman’s thoughts along. “Are your dad and friends connected?” Vic inquires, turning her sights toward the blonde across the room, “as in, would he kill your dad for the same reason he’d kill your friends?” “I don’t know why he’d kill any of them” Scarlett responds, continuing to answer as Vic shakes her head, “it may be, I guess.” “No, I know it could be, but what would his purpose be?” Vic quickly inquires, her hands rolling as he tries to draw parallels. “Scarlett was still on the run when her dad was shot down” West cuts in, both girls redirecting their sights upon him, “he only started going after your friends once you’d left town.” “So it could be him trying to draw you in” Vic responds, the unproven assumption more to work off of than what they’ve discovered up to this point. “Is there any chance he could be trying to drag me into this, too?” West wonders aloud, quick to reiterate his question. “I’m not saying I’m as integral to this as you are, but he knew I’d be involved in these investigations” West clarifies, the girls considering the suggestion, “everything he’s done so far was something that also got me involved.” “It could explain why he’d kill your friends, I guess-” Vic replies, able to see the loose connection, “but it doesn’t make sense why he’d keep kidnapping Jared and Rachel instead of killing them.” As Vic and West’s back-and-forth continues, Scarlett crosses her arms and begin to pace, her hand lifting to the space just beneath her chin. For a few moments, Vic and West’s discussion erases itself from Scarlett’s mind, her eyes beginning to narrow as she forms her own conclusion. “What if it’s not connected?” Scarlett raises the question aloud, her back turned to the pair she shares the room with, their attention squared upon her. “What if killing my dad was his way of erasing my connection to Praireville?” Scarlett inquires, her front turning back to the room’s occupants, “Mom leaves to stay with relatives, and I have nothing to come back to! There’s nothing stopping me from moving away and starting fresh!” Beginning to find Scarlett’s mindset, Vic follows the trail silently. “And when you and Vic are out of the picture, there’s no one in Praireville to stop him” West continues, surprising the girls by finishing Scarlett’s thought, “then, he moves onto the next phase of his plan.” “He kills my friends to create a panic, saves Jared and Rachel for last, and forces them to look for help” Scarlett continues, her hatred for West set aside for the moment as their ‘to and fro’ continues. “They come looking for me, he attacks the three of us and forces my hand to get the feds involved” West continues, his thought redirected at Scarlett’s behest. “But Jared and Rachel escape, they come looking for you, and he goes to take them back- but your cop gives chase!” Scarlett continues, allowing West to drive the conclusion home. “He gets a few shots in, probably vanishes to the first place he has in mind, and Jared goes with him!” West exclaims, his teeth pressing together as he winces in pain. “Alright, where’s the first place he’d go!?” Vic interjects, returning to the conversation just as it crosses the finish line. “That- I don’t know” West responds, his pain-ridden expression of joy falling as his head begins to shake, “there’s only one place under ‘Christopher Mead’ or ‘Lincoln Mead’ in the country, and we just came from it.” Sighing, Vic and Scarlett feel a wave of despair come over them, the overwhelming sensation of enthusiasm they’d gradually built falling apart as quickly as their conclusions have. “Are we sure we’re not missing something here?” West wonders aloud, extending hope that the odds of their presumptions aren’t set in stone, “what if there’s something specifically we’re not thinking of? Maybe he picks a specific place to do these things, maybe there’s a specific way?” “No, it’s all been sporadic!” Scarlett replies, one hand placed upon her hip whilst the other holds her weight as she leans against a wall, “he doesn’t have some preference for-” “THE REALM!” Vic shouts, her voice bouncing off walls as it falls into Scarlett and West’s ears, Scarlett’s eyes immediately darting toward her. “Unless it’s some factory, or warehouse, or whatever that we’d never find without some clues, where else would he go!?” Vic exclaims, leaving West’s side as she approaches Scarlett, “the first place he’d think to go is back to the realm!” “Can you even bring mortals into the realm!?” Scarlett responds, wanting to buy into Vic’s declaration, but unable to do so without scepticism. “I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot!” Vic exclaims, her eyes glancing between Scarlett and the sheriff, “if they’re snapping themselves out of it, they must be able to snap themselves into it!” “I have no clue what either of you are saying, but if it’s remotely possible- do it- whatever it is” West remarks, quick to reclaim his metal cane and struggle out of the chair. “Are you able to get snipers around Lincoln’s house- like they do in the movies?” Vic inquires, West’s hesitation to correct her taking a moment to a moment to kick in. “They’re called- oh, nevermind- yeah, I can get some people around the place” West replies, hobbling toward the entrance, “I’ll get on it now. Just don’t get yourselves hurt!” “We’re not really planning on it, Sheriff” Scarlett replies, watching the man nod just as he throws the exit doors open, stepping into Praireville’s night with his own objective at hand. “It’s a good thing we didn’t drink the coffee” Vic mutters beneath her breath, taking in a deep breath as her eyes close, their fingers snapping in unison as they step through thin air, returning to their Maldives villa. = Dream Sequence is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = \ Realm Beyond - Eternal Office / Her eyes opening, Scarlett steps forward, awakening to the sight she’s grown accustomed to, the mid-2000’s technology that lines the room having welcomed her back. To her left, Scarlett stares at Vic’s podium waiting a few moments for her friend’s arrival, each moment turning to a second, each second prolonged into minutes. Growing more anxious the longer it takes Vic to arrive, Scarlett peers off into the distance, no forsaken souls or friendly faces standing near, the same sight with an abnormal greeting. Her service weapon summoned, Scarlett fires a charge into the side of her head, ejecting her back into the Maldives home she’d begun her slumber in. Wide-eyed, Scarlett expels herself from the seat, a quiet stroll across the room leading her to Vic, who sits just as she had, fast asleep. Confused, Scarlett turns away and returns to her seat, sinking into the soft, cosy cushion with her arms draped over its sides, her eyes closing once more, breaths becoming calm and body relaxing. Returned to her podium, Scarlett looks to Vic’s vacant pad for a second time, the room she’d last seen no different than the one she knows, the pad Vic occupies no different from her own. “Vic!?” Scarlett exclaims, her eyes drifting from one side of the room to another, waiting for a response that never comes. “Vic, are you here!?” Scarlett shouts yet again, the entrance she’s surrounded with bathed in a heavenly white, not a reply to be offered. “Vic!? Esotera!?” Scarlett howls, stepping forward to climb down from her pad, her mouth opening to yell once more, “is anyone-!?” In a sudden instant, the white room darkens, its lights flooding the entrance with an evil shade of red the moment Scarlett’s foot touches the floor. “All hail the king!” a chorus of deep howls sings from afar, their collective sounds carried throughout the foyer’s unexplored corridors. Another glance around the room providing her with no answers, Scarlett catches the glimpse of an even brighter outlined drowned in a shade of red, its glow descending upon her. Left with little other choice, Scarlett backs away from the impending threat, retreating through the one walkway she’d traversed many times before. “All hail the king!” the legion continue to exclaim, keeping in stride with Scarlett’s withdrawal, one step forward for every one step she takes in the opposite direction. “All hail the king!” the forsaken continue to bark, Scarlett’s instincts making it impossible to not glance back with every few steps, incapable of believing much progress has been made. “All hail the king!” the cheers continue, this time to both Scarlett’s surprise and horror, the chants now emanating ahead. Cornered, Scarlett stops in the narrow corridor’s centre, listening to the chants as they continue, a similar red outline approaching from beyond. Her worried expression turning into one of absolute anger, Scarlett’s nostrils flare, her lip curling as she resummons her service weapon, prepared for war. “All hail the king!” the trapped souls growl once more, their physical presence appearing from both sides, allowed to near closer as Scarlett awaits. Picking her opportunities carefully, Scarlett charges into the nearest wall, propelling herself toward the ground with the left side of her body as her hand balls into a fist. At a rapid speed, Scarlett’s fist collides with the ground, the force of her punch discharging a sonic blast along the colourless, tiled floor. Hurled through the air, the legion are fired from the passageway as if they were cannon fodder, crashing into whatever remains at the entrance to each end. Momentarily cleared of her troubles, Scarlett rests on her knee, supported by the hand that remains pressed against the floor as she glances down each end. Convinced that her dilemma has been momentarily addressed, Scarlett resumes her plunge forward, able to see red-soaked, open walls in the near distance. Armed with her service weapon, Scarlett ventures through the mouth of hell, returned to a room she’d grown very familiar with, its walls caked in red lighting whilst its floor is occupied by nameless, faceless workers. Void of the persistent legion she’d expected to discover waiting for her, their intentions set on returning fire, Scarlett stands in confusion, not met with the war-torn horde she’d anticipated. “Is this real?” an echo-enraptured voice inquires, the hauntingly familiar voice directing Scarlett’s attention backward, the faceless woman standing behind her, hands folded as if she were praying. “Surely- by now- you know” the woman replies, one step taken forward, her lipless mouth continuing to speak. “Is any of this real?” the mystical woman inquires, urging the woman to ask of herself these questions, “all of your answers have been obvious. Ask yourself if you know the answers.” “Can you hear me?” Scarlett responds, refusing to walk away from the woman of baffling proportions, each statement drawing the phantom closer. “The realm hears all” the figment responds, again stepping forward, hands unwilling to break from the pose they’ve taken. Suspicious, Scarlett stares into the empty space where the apparition’s eyes would otherwise be, her chin tilting high as she speaks. “What are you?” Scarlett questions, arms held at her sides, the service weapon relinquished to the realm’s depths, embracing the spirit that walks her way. “I... am mother” the spectre replies, her answer allowing the deep, red illumination that surrounds them to fade away, the walls reclaiming their initial dull, grey colour. Looking to the floor, Scarlett notices the distance that’s held between herself and Mother to be dwindling, aware of the importance behind each question. “What do you want from me?” Scarlett qualms, her question unanswered for a brief moment, Mother’s progression delayed for a moment as the query is processed. Without a response, Mother takes another step forward, only two paces now separating the pair from each other. Her head leaning further back, Scarlett continues to wait for the figment’s response, refusing to accept silence as an answer. “What do you want from me?” Scarlett inquires again, the same delay given prior to Mother’s step forward, answered with the same silence. Pulling in a deep breath, Scarlett looks to the ground once more, her lips parting as she composes a final query. “W-?” Scarlett begins to inquire, her question interrupted at the sound of creaking metal from the far distance, a set of familiar double doors separating in the room’s rear. “I’ve seen those before” Scarlett remarks, looking back to Mother’s figure, her short stature prompting Scarlett to look downward, “I’ve never been able to get in there.” Unresponsive, Mother remains where she stands, refusing to step further, her face held toward Scarlett’s own. Another look given to the parted doors, Scarlett begins to pull away, her right foot leaving the ground in an effort to answer the call given to her. In a sudden moment, the gathered workers stop their daily activities, each desk worker turning their blank faces in Scarlett’s direction, leaving her to hesitate lowering her foot. Compelled to pause, Scarlett looks back into Mother’s empty face, the woman unmoving in all ways, her hands kept pressed together. Her lips pressed together, Scarlett returns her foot to its original rest, her back held to the opened doors at the room’s farthest end. “What do you want from me?” Scarlett repeats for a third time, yet again met with a pause, this time elongated in its duration, allowing Scarlett the moment to reflect on her choice. “I may have misjudged” Mother replies softly, the fifth and final step taken forward as her hands part, her left hand seeking salvation on Scarlett’s shoulder. Upon Mother’s touch, Scarlett feels the ground give out beneath her, the stable foundation she’d stood upon retracting as her body descends through the floor. Silent, Scarlett braces for impact with whatever lies ahead, able to see the slightest, most-distant ball of white light below, prepared for contact with whatever fate awaits her. | \ Realm Beyond - Eternal Office / Already familiarised with the lavish passageway she traverses, Vic passes one empty mantle after another, each covered with a thing pane of glass, the lightbulbs coating the walls in a deep, vibrant blue. Her finger squeezing the trigger, Vic fires charges of electricity at the same decrepit, tortured souls that hurry after her, their eyes glowing a bloody shade of red. Appearing in the distance, a colourless, nondescript line shines upon the corridor’s exit, a lone, featureless door inspires a fight in her the way no other does. Her walk becoming a run, Vic charges down the passageway’s halls, passing display cases with no regard for what lays within them, each ghoul she passes allowed to permanently slumber in purgatory at the will of her service weapon. Her path cleared, Vic’s service weapon fades into oblivion, the only thing offering her respite from the paradox she’d entered set firmly within her sights. Crashing through the doorway, Vic fails to stop her momentum and throws herself to the ground, gradually rolling to a stop in a room she’d recalled seeing before. “Is this real?” an echo-enraptured voice inquires, the hauntingly familiar voice directing Vic’s attention backward, the faceless woman standing behind her, hands folded as if she were praying. “Surely- by now- you know” the woman replies, one step taken forward, her lipless mouth continuing to speak. “Is any of this real?” the mystical woman inquires, urging the woman to ask of herself these questions, “all of your answers have been obvious. Ask yourself if you know the answers.” The unassuming door she’d collided with now replaced by a familiar set of double doors, Vic ascends to her feet, staring at a woman she’s seen before, though unable to discern from where. “I’ve- I’ve seen you before” Vic remarks, her finger raised toward the woman’s figure, squinting as she looks at her, trying to remember why the face appears so familiar. “The town house!” Vic suddenly exclaims, her eyes widening as she looks into the empty face, “you were the person at the end of the road!” Unresponsive, the woman remains where Vic discovered her to be, allowing the young woman to form whatever assumptions she may. “And- and- you were the one on that chair” Vic continues, her voice lowering a few octaves, “you were the one that came at me in that hallway before.” Still unresponsive, the figment’s face looks into Vic’s, waiting for her opportunity to speak. “Who are you?” Vic finally inquires, the phantom’s lips separating as she takes one, full step forward. “I... am Mother” the apparition replies, her hands remaining pressed together, body stood at a perfect, ninety degree angle. “You’re mother” Vic repeats aloud, her head tilting to the left as she stares into the woman’s face, unable to decipher what that means. Considering Mother’s response for a moment, Vic crafts another question off a baseless assumption, one she keeps private, stored far within the inner reaches of her mind. “When does all of this end?” Vic inquires, watching Mother’s figure step forward once more, the black clothes she wears made to look darker in the offer lobby’s blue lighting. “When someone claims the throne” Mother replies, her voice carried toward the heavens, the walls rising past Vic’s line of sight, travelling beyond what she’s physically able to see. Puzzled, Vic repeats the answer in her head, eyes drifting to empty spaces in the room as she ponders what to ask next. “W-?” Vic begins to inquire, her words falling short of their escape past her tongue, a sudden qualm settling upon her mind at the last moment. “What do you want from me?” Vic wonders aloud, awaiting the pause that Mother meets her with, watching the phantom step forward without an answer. Her head turned toward the side, Vic remains silent, continuing to wait for the response until it becomes clear that one is not imminent. “Wha- What do you want from me?” Vic asks for a second time, the silence persisting as Mother steps forward, her posture unchanged from what she’d arrived with. With a deep sigh, Vic glances around the room, unsure of what to make of the display. “W-?” Vic attempts to ask once more, interrupted before her question can be raised as a set of doors pull apart near the back of the room, her sights set upon them as her eyebrow raises. No less bewildered than when she’d entered the room being, Vic turns away from the doors, again laying her focus upon Mother. “What do you want from me?” Vic asks for a third time, unanswered for the third consecutive attempt as Mother steps forward, her left hand pulling away from her right, seeking refuge upon Vic’s arm. “I judged adequately” Mother whispers, her lips pulling together in the form of a smile, her face directed toward Vic’s own as the floor gives out. Taken with gravity, Vic descends through a space of total darkness, a small ball of light that awaits her below only enlarging the further she plummets. Her arms crossed over her chest, Vic braces for what lies ahead, not a shout, nor a declaration uttered as she hurtles toward uncertainty, making peace with whatever is to come. == Dream Sequence ==
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\ Realm of Reality /
“Aagghh!” Lincoln exclaims, dragging Montes and Jared back to the fortified bunker with the snap of his finger, Montes’ momentum carrying through the sudden transportation. Swept off his feet, Lincoln slams into the cold, solid concrete shoulder-first, the inexperienced, yet adrenaline-driven officer wrapping his arms around the criminal and tackling him to the ground. Released from Lincoln’s grasp the moment his feet touch solid ground, Jared’s body shifts backward, his legs unsteady for only a moment. Slamming into the reinforced metal wall, Jared spends little time regrouping, his arms pushing him toward Rachel’s bed. “You son of-!” Lincoln exclaims, not taking long to realise his prior efforts were not quick enough, the exclamation interrupted by Montes’ fist striking his jaw. “Rachel!?” Jared shouts, gazing around the bunker to discover it empty aside from his presence, Montes and Lincoln’s brawl persisting whilst his fellow prisoner is nowhere to be found. Dazed, Lincoln’s thoughts blur for a moment, only able to feel the younger, deceivingly-strong man climb top him, his hand duked. Struggling to register his predicament, Lincoln’s eyes move from the empty pit just beyond the still-open bunker door and to the bottom of its exit. Not satisfied with the small cut his first shot had drawn from the corner of Lincoln’s brow, Montes throws a second, the knuckle of his index finger pressing into the side of the killer’s face, shattering the man’s nose. Operating off of his instinct, Montes throws another three strikes, all landing in the corner of Lincoln’s eye, each shot stripping the realm-leaper of his impenetrable mystique. Made to appear surprisingly mortal, Lincoln’s mind fails to grasp memory of his powers, only able to defend himself by pushing Montes away. Crawling to the daylight that splashes upon the floor just beyond the foxhole, Lincoln stretches his hand toward salvation, his brain barely more than scrambled gelatin. Snarling at the man’s attempt to escape, Montes’ procedural mindset ceases to exist, his every thought rooted in the quest for violent revenge. Wiping the spit from his face, Montes climbs to his feet and charges at the bunker’s door. Throwing his foot forward, Montes kicks the entrance’s centre and pushes it forward, the only thing standing between itself and the frame it locks into being Lincoln’s sprawled-fingered, left hand. His blood-curdling scream bouncing off the shelter’s walls, Lincoln slumps into the corner, his left hand shattered to great extent, bent fingers and bone fragments breaking through skin. Growling, Montes takes in a few deep breaths before retrieving his firearm, lifting it with one arm in an executioner’s pose. “No, wait!’ Jared exclaims, his voice strengthening as he extends his hand, stopping Montes just before the trigger could be pulled, the rookie’s eyes turning toward him. “Rachel’s not-!” Jared begins, interrupted before he can finish his statement. Though groggy, Lincoln regains his wherewithal, the lone operational hand he has thrown forward in a fit of agonising rage. The room momentarily bathed in a harsh, blue light, Montes’ feet leave the ground with brutal force, his finger accidentally pulling the trigger as he flies backward, colliding with the bolstered wall. Crumbling to a heap on the floor, Montes lays limp, his grasp on the weapon relinquished, allowing it to join him in toppling to the ground, laying motionless and still. Having crossed them before his face to protect himself, Jared’s arms lower, his eyes falling upon Montes’ crumpled heap before soon firing back to Lincoln in a rage. Stirring, the killer looks to his hand once more, his fingers dangling as he holds it high. Eyes widened in pain, Lincoln looks to Montes’ body across the room from him, undisturbed by the sight of what he’d done. Almost as if he knew enough to expect what he’d find, Lincoln turns his head toward Rachel’s bed, Jared’s irate eyes already having turned themselves toward him. For the first time, Lincoln finds himself outmatched, his injuries and head trauma severely limiting him in such a vulnerable position. Shaking his head, Lincoln moves his lips but doesn’t speak, watching Jared dash across the room with his foot raised. At the last moment, Lincoln’s one unencumbered hand presses its fingers together, his skin dragging against itself in a snap. The bunker vanishing, Lincoln’s head crashes into the drab, lifeless tiled-floors of his home, Jared’s foot having struck the side of his skull as if it were a football in the last second. His momentum yet to cease, Jared’s foot throws itself forward as he hurls himself through the air, no longer able to depend on heavy-duty walls to halt his progress. Through the archway, Jared slams into the floor, rolling to a stop as he slides into the legs of a long, nondescript conference table, his body surely to be bruised by the collision. “Ffuucckk” Jared groans, the side of his face pressing against the ground, his palms pressed against its boring tiled finish coloured in multiple shades of grey. “You can’t escape me!” Lincoln shouts, slurring his words as he attempts to climb off the floor, the sound of his voice reinvigorating Jared’s anger. “I mean it- it’s impossible now” Lincoln barks, reaching for the nearest support whilst Jared pushes himself up, his right hand sinking into his back pocket. “You and your girl are already doomed!” the large man growls, making it to his knees just as Jared closes in. Looking upward, Lincoln watches Jared’s hand pull back, his only thought being to shield himself from the teenager’s unpredictable attack. Sacrificing his lone, undamaged hand, Lincoln sprawls his fingers outward, covering his head and neck as Jared’s hand swings through the air. Pain having enraptured his body in various places by now, Lincoln fails to notice Jared’s offence at first, a few seconds passing before his eyes return to the scorned young man’s eyes. Following his arm as if it were a trail, Lincoln’s eyes inevitably reach Jared’s hand, the plastic shiv his assailant had whittled now piercing through the rear side of his hand. With incredible force, Lincoln shouts in pain as Jared rips the weapon from his hand, the process he’d made to bury it within his palm repeated various times over, the makeshift blade persistently tearing through his flesh, leaving behind a bloody scene of destroyed tendons, muscle and bones. His screams continuing, Lincoln finally breaks away from Jared’s grasp, his forehead pressing against the ground as he hunches over. On his knees and defenceless, Lincoln grunts in pain, unable to watch Jared pull his hand back once more, both mangled hands hidden beneath his body as he lays against the floor. “Someone!” Rachel exclaims, somewhere hidden deep within the room, her voice enough to free Jared from his initial intentions. As if his every thought were replaced by only one goal, Jared turns to the source of the noise, leaving Lincoln tending after the irreparable damage inflicted to him. “Rachel!” Jared shouts, throwing himself into boring, featureless walls in chase of the young woman, his sights only set on the path ahead. “I’m in here! I’m in here!” Rachel screams, the call of her name nearing closer with each shout. “Rachel!” Jared shouts once more, drawn to the dark corners her voice originates from, a poorly-lit office proving to offer his destination, the young woman he chases after left tied to a chair in its centre. “Where am I!?” Rachel exclaims, her frantic pleas for help finally answered, leaving room for the horrified fears she’d been left to stew within. “I’m here! I’m right here, Rachel!” Jared replies, slicing away at the rope until Rachel is freed, her arms wrapping around him immediately. “I thought you were never gonna find me!” Rachel whimpers, her cheeks coloured a bright red as tears stream down her face, the back of her head held in Jared’s hand. “I’m always gonna find you- I promise” Jared whispers, his eyes kept open, still uncertain over the answer to her initial question. Stood in a small, well-lit pod, Esotera stares at an empty wall, its walls coloured a deep blue. Motionless, Esotera faces the blank canvas with her arms at her side, eyes as stoic as the rest of her body. Without warning, Esotera’s vibrant blue walls turn to an angry shade of red, the sound of buzzers firing throughout the cramped confines. Head turning to a small set up of computers, charts and level readings, Esotera approaches the equipment with a puzzled look, almost in disbelief of what she’s discovering. “We’ve been breached” Esotera remarks, her attention set upon one specific screen out of many, two red dots flashing in the realm’s deepest, most-obscure corridors. = Dream Sequence is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = \ Realm of Reality / Silent, Scarlett crosses one leg over the other, sat in a chair across the room from the sheriff she’s become all too familiar with, a look of disgust cemented across her face. Though not from a place of bitterness, West remains quiet as well, his eyes held on Scarlett’s repulsed expression, his arms laid upon the sides of his chair. “Do you know anything?” Vic inquires, occupying the middle-most seat of the couch, sat directly between her friend and the sheriff, eyes laid upon the officer with a few skeletons in his closet. “Uh, no” West replies, almost forgetting where he was for a moment, his mind starting to draw blanks. “They were there one minute, then- then they were gone the next” West remarks, returning his eyes to the phlegmatic young woman across the room, “I have no idea where they are.” “And you can’t trace him?” Vic continues, her right arm resting against the sofa’s back whilst her left arm sits loosely in her lap. “I’ve tried. Something must’ve happened in the- whatever they did” West replies, his mind still taken aback by various questions, “he’s a ghost as far as I know.” Lip pressed against the roof of her mouth, Vic’s head hangs, her thoughts kept quiet as Scarlett interrupts, directing the conversation herself. “How did you know about us?” Scarlett wonders aloud, the tone of her voice making it clear to the sheriff that she feels a great scorn for him. “I didn’t until yesterday. Jared put the pieces together” West replies, his tone subdued, nearly the exact opposite of Scarlett’s, “the bust at the end there, the explosion- those were the missing pieces.” “And you just believed it?” Scarlett quickly inquires, the man’s calm, understanding tone not compelling her to ease the approach. “I’d seen what Lincoln could do” West replies just as swiftly, wavering an open hand down the length of his own body, “I was pretty well introduced to it, wouldn’t you say?” Silent again, Scarlett listens to the man, refusing to answer. “When Jared pieced everything together, it all just- just felt right” West continues, his voice growing more frail, exhaustion beginning to set in, “I don’t know if there’s much I can’t believe anymore.” Her fingers sloped over the armrest’s end, Scarlett’s stare persists, her eyes inspecting the man’s damaged body. “Is there anything you do know?” Vic interjects, reclaiming West’s attention, “anything that could give us a clue as to where we should look?” His teeth pressed together, West shakes his head subtly as he stares into the distance, the Arabian Sea’s calm waves in his view. “He said they were kept in a bunker. Some unfamiliar house and neighbourhood in Praireville” West responds, rubbing the sides of his head as he thinks beyond that. “He said Rachel had amnesia. We took her to a hospital, that’s where he snatched her back, and everything went down” West explains, the subtle headshake growing increasingly rapid. “Aside from that, there’s not much I know” West replies, his head beginning to hang before another thought enters his mind, the recollection lifting his eyes in Scarlett’s direction. Noticing this gesture, Scarlett snaps from her oath of quietude, “what?” she asks bluntly, almost holding the answer beneath her breath. His head drifting to the side, West’s expression begins to shift, the look of sudden thought twisting into hesitation. “What were you about to say?” Scarlett repeats, leaning slightly forward in her seat, her back no longer touching the chair. “It-” West begins before again going quiet, much to Scarlett’s dismay. Pushing herself the rest of the way from her seat, Scarlett steps forward, only stopped when Vic matches her gesture, putting herself in Scarlett’s path. “You were going to tell me something. Say it or I’ll fucking kill you!” Scarlett orders, watching West’s demeanour change, less desiring to withhold the truth from Scarlett, but more so a slight fear over what will happen. “Scarlett, calm down” Vic murmurs, her left arm wrapped around the young woman’s upper body, trying to restrain her friend. “Get off me, Vic” Scarlett grunts, pushing her right hand into Vic’s chest, trying to force her escape. “Scarlett, this isn’t going to help!” Vic exclaims, feeling Scarlett’s palm dig into her chest cavity, trying to force her away. “Vic, stop!” Scarlett exclaims, the struggle she presents slowly descending into an outright confrontation, her warnings continuing to be ignored. “Scarlett, for fuck’s sake! Stop!” Vic shouts, her pleas again unheeded, the woman’s need to know overpowering her better judgement. No longer able to control herself, Scarlett spins their positions around, her back now held toward West whilst Vic’s is directed to her prior seat. Within a moment, Vic’s feet leave the ground, her efforts at restraining Scarlett backfiring. Her arms crossed, Vic tears through the patio doors, her head and neck sliced by loose shards of glass. Before long, the breath she’d pulled in proves to be her salvation, the hot, coastal-Maldives air replaced by a warm, refreshing taste of the Arabian Sea. The parlour having doubled as a wind tunnel, West’s chair is toppled over, his wounded body rolling along the ground as the air begins to still. Her time limited, Scarlett reaches toward the ground, her hand wrapping around the collar of the sheriff’s shirt. “What were you going to say!?” Scarlett shouts, her knuckle resting beneath West’s chin as she drags him upward, holding him against the wall with one hand, effortlessly suspending him high above the ground. “L- Lin- Lincoln!” West chokes, unable to breath with the weight of Scarlett’s hand pressing into his throat, only able to hiss the answer. “What about him!?” Scarlett exclaims, summoning her service weapon from the realm beyond, the bright red glow of her barrel held to his face. “He killed-” West begins to reply, his hands having wrapped around the woman’s wrist, trying with all of his might to capture even the slightest huff of air. His eyes growing bloodshot, West begins to complete his thought, a sudden reprieve from his suffocation the only thing sparing him from having to do so. Capitalising on Scarlett’s preoccupation, Vic soars through the air and captures the blonde’s throat in her hand, the young woman’s feet swept as Vic holds her throat against the floor. “Calm- the fuck- down!” Vic screams, her knees pressed on Scarlett’s left wrist whilst her free hand holds the other down. “Stay the fuck out of this, Vic!” Scarlett exclaims, her demands refusing to be met as Vic keeps steady. “Get a hold of yourself, damnit!” Vic shouts, the hold she keeps on Scarlett offering the woman beneath her little other choice. “I lost my parents because of short-tempered bullshit like this!” Vic screams, feeling Scarlett’s struggle begin to lessen, “you’re the only family I have left! Don’t let me lose you like that, too!” Her gritted teeth falling behind her lips, Scarlett looks Vic in the eyes with sympathy, her anger slowly beginning to dwindle. “B- but you said-” Scarlett begins to mumble, her response cut short. “My dad thought she was cheating, so he shot her” Vic replies, hairs hanging over her face whilst her eyes press together, “then he killed himself.” Mouth agape, Scarlett looks through the hanging strands of hair and into Vic’s eyes, a single tear falling from her left eye. “I collected the life insurance- don’t bother asking how” Vic concludes, her lips beginning to press together, “I moved on with life, met you- here we are.” Hand wrapped around his injured ribs, West listens to the revelation from across the room, spectating the admission from afar. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Scarlett replies, eyes narrowing as her head shakes. “Because it wasn’t important until now” Vic responds, finally releasing her grip on Scarlett’s wrist and throat. “The point is you’re the only family I have, and I can’t lose you” Vic finishes, watching Scarlett sit up, her back against the wall, “I need you here. I need you to stick with me.” Head lowered, Scarlett glances in the direction West lays in, thinking quietly to herself before returning her eyes to Vic’s face, only answering with a nod. Somewhat disappointed in herself, Scarlett pulls her legs close, hands resting atop her bent knees as West interjects. “I think Lincoln killed your father” West remarks, the sights of both girls dawning over him, “the shot must’ve come from a hill a few hundred yards away. It was the only possible place to take that kind of shot from.” “Wait, wh- what-? Why?” Scarlett responds, following the man’s figure as he drags himself into the parlour’s corner, his head resting against the drywall. “There was no evidence left behind. No shell, no marks- it was like no one had ever even been there before” West replies, struggling to catch his breath, wincing with each puff, “it’s consistent with every crime I’ve connected to him by now. I’ve got no reason to think it was anyone other than him.” “Why would he want her dad dead?” Vic soon inquires, nearly cutting his conclusion short. “I don’t know” West replies with a sigh, his head shaking, his hair ruffled by the day’s events, “why would he want Jared and Rachel? I’d assume it’s the same reason, but that’s the best I’ve got.” Her K-9 teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her bottom lip, Scarlett’s eyes begin to widen, taking West’s earlier metaphor seriously, piecing together the information she’s been given. “He killed my dad and my friends- but he leaves Rachel and Jared alive” Scarlett mutters beneath her breath, just loud enough for Vic to overhear. “My ex boyfriend and my best friend are kept alive, but my father and friends are dead- why?” Scarlett restates, the question directed at herself. “Why do you think there’s a connection?” Vic responds, her answer given as if it were obvious. “Why else would he torture them instead of killing them!?” Scarlett quickly replies, “there has to be a reason he’s treating them differently.” Struggling to slide the phone from his pocket, West pulls away from the girls’ conversation to answer the call, his face going cold the moment he recognises the voice. “It’s a two-story house just a- urgh- few miles out of the city” Montes grunts, a pool of blood filling his mouth as he lays on the asphalt parkway, an 1941 Dodge Custom Town Sedan parked just beside him. “No, West- they’re gone” Montes groans, the dark red gore that runs down his chin beginning to trickle onto the ground, “I don’t know where they went.” His insides scrambled, Montes’ hand loses its power, the phone’s screen lighting as it falls to the ground, its sensors no longer covered by his ear. “Rookie!? ROOKIE!?” West shouts, his yells putting a natural conclusion upon Scarlett and Vic’s conversation. “What’s wrong?” Vic questions, watching West smack the small, pocket-sized device in hopes the call had simply dropped. “How fast can we get to the outskirts of Praireville!?” West hurriedly exclaims, his breaths becoming heavy. All three losing their balance as they appear through the veil of thin air, West is the first to fight through the shift, throwing himself toward the front of the home. Bracing against his injuries, West struggles through the slightly-overgrown grass, able to find a pair of prone legs before he even rounds the house. “Rookie!” West shouts, losing his stability as he reaches the lawn’s end, only asphalt welcoming him as he falls forward palm-first. Glassy eyed, West crawls over to the young deputy, Scarlett and Vic soon following closely behind, helpless to do more than discover the scene. “I can’t- I can’t find- a pulse!” West shouts, his fellow officer unable to respond to the declaration of his title. “Rookie, come on- you’ve got family waiting for you!” West grunts, weakly providing CPR that ultimately offers little more than wasted effort. “Come on, kid! It’s too soon to be your time!” West continues, Montes’ chest too broken to support his efforts, his life already lost. “Sheriff, I think-” Vic remarks, reaching out for West’s shoulder, only to have it swatted away at the last moment. “No! No, he’s-!” West exclaims, stopping himself before the sentence can be finished, slowly accepting that his attempts are futile. Resting his head on Montes’ chest, West tries to catch his breath, Vic’s eyes looking at him apologetically whilst Scarlett’s remain indifferent. | \ Realm Beyond - Eternal Office / “Where are you!?” Lincoln exclaims, his voice carried through narrow tunnels and corridors, echoing in the same distance that Jared and Rachel traverse. “In here!” Jared whispers, leading Rachel down a flight of stairs by the hand, their destination yet to be determined. “What is this place?” Rachel queries, prompting Jared to take his first, true glance at the realm beyond, unable to answer the question. “I don’t know” the man whispers, again hearing Lincoln’s shout in the distance, the sound somehow seeming to always be the same length away no matter how far they travel. Choosing one characterless office space of hundreds, the mortal pair hide within the room’s dark confines, ducking behind a desk with little other options. “There’s nowhere for you to run!” Lincoln exclaims, wandering the realm beyond aimlessly, his anger made apparent through every step. “I could say the same thing for you” Suzie replies, Razul and Kazro following closely behind as she treks down a set of stairs, closing in on her brother. “Watch your step, Suzannah” Lincoln replies, his punctured hand still able to fight through pain in summoning his service dagger. “I swear, sometimes I have a hard time believing you were ever the realm’s chosen one” Suzie replies, reaching the bottom step whilst Lincoln backs away, continuing to create separation between them. “How do you bring mortals into the realm beyond and lose them?” Suzie inquires, her own service dagger summoned, “I can’t wrap my mind around it.” “You don’t need to. Go back to wherever you came from and stay there” Lincoln commands, the completion of his order succeeded by the sound of roaring thunder. “I don’t think I’m going to do that” Suzie replies, continuing to step forward, her brother’s retreat gradually taking him closer to the mezzanine’s abyss. “You don’t want to do this, Suzie” Lincoln replies, his feet leaving the ground as he reaches the floor’s edge, hovering through the air as Suzie looks on, unimpressed. “What is your plan, exactly?” the woman inquires, slowly lifting herself off the floor just as her brother does, their eyes meeting as they reach the mid-air equivalent of level ground. “Suzie-” Lincoln begins, again interrupted by the roaring sound of thunder, the white light that shines over both the bonsai tree and the siblings turning a menacing red. “Suzie, I don’t want to kill you” Lincoln warns, the woman again refusing to heed his advice, her eyes glowing a shade of red. “Yeah- I figured that before” Suzie replies, the thunder overhead just beginning to grow louder, ripping through the air with great aggravation. “Your reluctance is why you don’t sit on the throne” Suzie remarks, again prompting the realm to roar angrily. “And that it’s easy for you to kill your own is why you don’t” Lincoln responds, another crash slamming through the mezzanine, serving as the backdrop to their impending clash. “I guess we’ll have to see” Suzie replies, a bright flash of light emitting from her dagger, a pulse of electricity coursing through its fine edges and sleek finish. “If that’s what you wish-” Lincoln replies, matching her gesture as he pulls his hand back, a blue light flashing from his weapon, ready for conflict, “-I’m sorry, sister.” The realm beginning to shake, Lincoln and Suzie pull away from each other, the open drop above the realm’s chasm set as their battleground. An equal distance apart, the siblings look each other in the eye, their irises bathed in their respective colour. The first to advance, Suzie charges onward, her brother soon to follow, their daggers aimed at each other’s throats as they march forward, peace made with the fates that await them. == Dream Sequence == \ Realm of Reality /
Entering the precinct with a duffle bag in hand, Montes steps by his coworkers at random, his uniform left at home in favour of a casual t-shirt and jeans. “Toby, your shift started two hours ago!” an officer remarks, one foam cup of coffee held in his right hand. “Is the sheriff in yet?” Montes responds, disregarding the officer’s remarks as he steps past, his travels taking him toward West’s office regardless of his presence. The brief exchange bringing more eyes toward his direction, Montes continues forward, refusing to speak to anyone other than West. Making his way to the back of the precinct, Montes throws his hand out, pushing West’s office door open with little resistance, the partially-broken man looking up at him as he enters. “Does your generation know what it means to knock?” West inquires, blenching as he leans back in his seat. “What the fuck is this!?” Montes howls, keeping his voice below a whisper as he holds his hand high, the cubed camera resting within the palm of his hand. “That’s the camera that- by the look on your face- I’ll assume you’ve watched the video of” West replies, pressing his hand against his chest to subdue the pain. “Have you seen this!?” Montes responds, throwing his duffle bag into a corner of the room, an unbuttoned dress shirt flowing over his blue tee as he takes a seat. “I have. I saw it just before I brought it to you” West replies, allowed to speak further amidst Montes’ paused astonishment, “have you made your decision?” “Yeah- I have!” Montes remarks, laying the recorder on the desk before flicking it with his finger, allowing it to gently fall into West’s lap. “Do whatever you want with it. Keep it, come to your senses and turn it in- fucking burn it- I don’t care” Montes answers, giving the bag he’d packed a light smack, “I’m getting the fuck out of town before it’s too late for me.” “Wai- what!?” West blurts out, paining himself as he suddenly jolts forward, caught by surprise, “you can’t leave!” Having already left his chair and begun to lift his bag, Montes amuses West’s reaction, “why not?” he asks, slowly lifting the bag’s strap over his shoulder. “Oh come on, do I really need to spell it out for you?” West answers, pushing his chair back as he struggles to a stand, groaning as he does, “we’re the only people in this precinct that know what we’re really facing.” “Then clue someone else in- I don’t care” Montes responds, the strap lifting over his head, draped across his body, “I’m sure there’s other cops that’ll tell you what you want to hear.” His head hung, West places his hands against the surface of his desk, the cane leant against his seat. “I don’t a ‘yes’ man, rookie” West replies, again managing to halt Montes’ progress toward the exit, “I need someone that’ll actually help me get to the bottom of what’s going on here.” “Why the fuck does it need to be me!?” Montes quickly inquires, no longer subduing the shouts he now emits freely, “why can’t any of these other pricks help you!?” Though his wounds still affect him greatly, West musters the power to raise one fist to the air, slamming it back upon the desk with convincing authority. “Who the hell says I want help from the other pricks!?” West shouts back, his face flushed with anger. “You’ve got a unit chock full of guys more helpful than I could ever be-” Montes starts to reply, interrupted by West’s correction. “And yet I don’t seem to care for any of them” the sheriff replies, a retort that, in the least, sweeps Montes of his first thought. “You’ve got the passion for this stuff that I haven’t had in years and the decency of someone that actually wants to do good” West explains, his words softer as he tends to his injuries, “you’re one of the few good apples.” Unsure of how to react, Montes stands halfway between the sheriff and the exit to his office, his adamance not strong as it had been before. “You’re the only person, believe it or not, that I think I can genuinely trust in here” West declares, hands still pressing into the workspace, “please, just see this through. Hell, I’ll even hand you walking papers so you can claim severance. Just stick the rest of this out with me, would you?” Behind his lips, Montes’ teeth press together, his mind still set on leaving, though West’s admission throws a wrench into his plan. “I have family, sheriff” Montes replies, though the statement would be viewed as a gentle way of refusal, the deputy’s tone of voice proves his mind has still yet to be made. “Where the fuck is he!?” a strong, affirmative voice exclaims, Montes staring to his exit just as West does, the familiar reflection emerging from the other side. Cane in hand, West limps through his office door, Montes following closely behind, the bag’s strap still across his chest. Hearing the sheriff’s grunts, Jared and Rachel turn to lock eyes with West, the sides staring at each other in awe. = Dream Sequence is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = \ Realm Beyond - Eternal Office / “You find something new around every corner, don’t you?” Scarlett jokes, walking a few steps ahead of Vic as she follows Esotera, departing a long corridor in favour of a dark, conference space. Whilst the ground is painted a sleek grey and walls stand out with a marble finish, the room hosts a long, slim conference table in its centre a few metres below ground level, surrounded by steps leading out from the decline. Taking the seat at the table’s end, Esotera watches Scarlett and Vic diverge upon opposite sides, Scarlett sat to her right whilst Vic occupies the chair on her left. “Alright. We’re here” Scarlett murmurs, Vic continuing to remain quiet, allowing the conversation to happen around her. “The walls should be strong enough to keep your delusions at bay” Esotera replies, sliding her chair closer toward the table, hands folded atop it. “Are you positive they won’t happen?” Scarlett inquires, though able to trust Esotera, finds difficulty trusting much else. “Not one hundred percent- no” the extraordinary guardian replies, watching the disappointed look appear on Scarlett’s face, “but as far as meeting points go- this might be the best you’ll get.” Holding back a sigh, Scarlett turns her face away from Esotera, her eyes following the recreated black lines that swirl within the dark brown finish in their wooden conference table. “I see one thing is undeniable, however” Esotera remarks, Vic’s attention staying upon her whilst Scarlett’s is re-earned. “As far as these paradoxes go- while I can’t tell you whether they’re delusions or not- I can tell you that they’ve benefitted you well” Esotera remarks, her eyes setting upon Vic, “you’ve gained new powers.” Their eyes widening, Scarlett and Vic turn their curiosity upon each other. “From what else I can gather, it seems these abilities are-” Esotera begins, both girls returning their gaze as she pauses, her chin leaning forward, “occupant-specific.” Clearly unfamiliar with the phrase, the girls remain silent, waiting for their guardian to continue. “The two of you have discovered a power that the other cannot possess” Esotera clarifies, only further deepening each girl’s confusion, “those powers-” “Those powers are as pre-determined as anything else in this god-forsaken realm” Suzie interjects, entering the conference room with her brutes closeby. Summoning their service weapons, Scarlett and Vic prepare for defence, a gesture Suzie assures them is fruitless. “I’m not here to kill you. Actually, I’m sort of here to help you” the trespasser explains, stepping down the short flight of stairs and walking past Vic, rounding the table’s end to sit at the last few seats on Scarlett’s side. “Why would we want your help?” Scarlett wonders aloud, not allowing Suzie to occupy a seat before asking the question, her answer coming with just as much ease. “Because I was right about the delusions, that’s a start” Suzie answers, her elbow pressing into the table as she props her chin up with her hand, “and because I know the secrets you want answers to.” Unable to hold a slight smirk back, Scarlett laughs through her nose and turns away, slowly climbing the stairs to make her departure. “All hail the king” Suzie calls out, watching Scarlett’s slow exit halt quickly, the young blonde staring back at her with widened eyes. Watching Scarlett’s expression shift, Vic’s eyes redirect themselves toward Suzie, the girl returning the favour. “I can’t quite say what you’re experiencing, but I know what-” Suzie begins to add, addressing Vic before Scarlett interrupts, storming toward her with a vengeance. “How did you know-!?” Scarlett begins to shout, taking the intruder by the collar of her shirt to little success, Suzie’s equally red service blade pressed against her throat before her thought can be completed. “Not so fast, pariah” Suzie whispers, her free hand wrapping around Scarlett’s collar just as hers resides, “I know what’s coming for you. Heed my advice and save that anger.” As swiftly as she had commanded the discourse, Suzie shoves Scarlett back, nodding her head toward the seat the younger woman had previously occupied. “Why are you here?” Vic interjects, returning Suzie’s sights toward herself, “what do you want?” “That’s easy. I’m here to kill you” Suzie replies, smiling as the girls’ posture changes, their service weapons summoned, “relax, relax- I’m not interested in that yet.” Leaning back in her seat, Suzie extends the opposite of a defensive approach, her feet kicked upon the tabletop as she continues. “You see, I used to be you. Before the two of you, Lincoln and I were the realm’s keepers” the woman confesses, her eyes drifting into space as she recollects. “I know exactly how the two of you started, and I know exactly how your stories are gonna end” she furthers, her voice lowering as she leans back further, “the realm may give you free will, but it’s already determined what your fate is.” Her arms growing tense, Scarlett stares toward the woman whilst she speaks, a scowl held. “How do you know this?” Vic inquires, watching Suzie spn toward her just as the chair she sits on does, “if you’re here, we shouldn’t be- I thought that’s how it worked.” Her tongue pressed into the corner of her lip, Suzie waits for a moment, remaining quiet until the sound of thunder rolls in, shaking the walls gently. “Technically speaking, I’m not alive” Suzie responds, the lean in her seat strengthening as she waves her hand from one side of her face to the other. “I’m a soul trapped just like the rest” Suzie replies, the features of her face vanishing in favour of a grey, drab, indistinguishable expression, “but it’s difficult to keep the devil locked in hell when he controls the damned and his seat is empty.” With another swipe, Suzie’s face returns to normal, her eyes as distinct as her smile, the form of a person no different from Scarlett or Vic. “So you broke out of hell?” Vic repeats, obvious scepticism carried in her question, “if you’re the devil, does that make Lincoln-?” “No, Lincoln is not god. Honestly, I’m a little offended you’d think that” Suzie interrupts, scoffing at the idea. “Lincoln is just a mortal like the rest of us, and fallible just the same” Suzie continues, a thought dawning over her as she lifts a finger toward the air, “however, he’s an example of the realm changing its rules more so than anything else.” Correctly assuming that Suzie would answer their next question, Scarlett and Vic remain seated, watching Suzie stand up and begin pacing around the room. “When you die in the real world, your soul is supposed to belong to the realm. Well, Lincoln did just that” Suzie explains, her lip curling as her thoughts grow bitter, “when I ran my dagger across his throat, that was supposed to be the end of him.” Her hands clasped behind her back, Suzie paces the stone steps, turning back to repeat the process each time she reaches the step’s conclusion. “I did what I needed to so I could live. He died right there and that was it” Suzie explains, her aimless wandering coming to a stop, eyes taking to one of the distant walls, “I have no idea how he’s even here right now.” “And he wants us dead too?” Scarlett ponders aloud, her question snapping Suzie from her sullen self-reflection. “We all want each other dead, that’s how it’s supposed to go” Suzie replies, the room again beginning to shake beneath the power of distant thunder, its might unable to breach the marble walls. “The two of you are next in line for the throne. If you die, it becomes Lincoln’s turn. If the three of you die, It’ll be my turn” Suzie answers, holding back a grin, “that’s the line of succession.” “You said the realm rejected you before, though” Vic responds, immediately drawing the ire of the woman ahead, her scowl more than noticeable from across the room. “I wasn’t proven. I killed Lincoln out of anger, not to rule the realm” Suzie retorts, presenting a force in her tone that she doesn’t care much to hide, “killing Lincoln and the two people it chose to replace me must be enough to prove myself worthy.” “Oh, so this could all be for show!?” Scarlett replies, matching Suzie’s rage-bitten tone with one of condescension, “you could be putting all this effort into something utterly pointless?” The balance of confrontation shifting, Suzie’s calm manner settles, revealing a combative truth as she steps across the room, engaging in the argument Scarlett baited her into. “Listen, blondie. The only reason I don’t kill you right now is because it’d work against me” Suzie replies, her service dagger summoned just as before, “don’t question my fucking motives.” Her eyebrows furrowed, Scarlett stares at the woman, both of their eyes glowing red for just a few seconds before Vic interrupts. “You may have a reason to keep us alive- but we don’t” Vic remarks, summoning her deep blue service weapon. Annoyed, Suzie steps back, both she and Scarlett losing the red glow in their eyes as the infiltrator retreats. “Fine. Do whatever you want and believe whatever you will” Suzie replies, releasing her dagger as she readies her hand. “I’m telling you now. If you see Lincoln, put him down. We can get this over with whenever you’d like” Suzie explains, thrusting her fingers together. She and her brutes disappearing into thin air, Suzie leaves Scarlett and Vic to themselves, their service weapons still cradled in their grasp as they look at each other, both thinking what neither wants to say. | \ Realm of Reality / “I think they’re still alive” Jared replies, cradling Rachel’s hand in his own as she lies atop a hospital bed, waiting for doctors to arrive. “And you said they what?” West clarifies, his cane resting against the armrest of his chair, Montes standing a few spaces beside him. “He said they made it to a beach before the plane crashed” Jared responds, West’s hand covering his eyes as his face scrunches, trying to piece together the jumbled puzzle, “they spoke like they knew they’re alive.” “Alright, so- if the dead girls aren’t dead, where are they?” Montes inquires, Jared’s pause draining him of a hopeful high, his answers having been offered in quick succession prior. “I don’t know, but I’d imagine it’s somewhere close to where the plane went down” Jared replies, his lips pressing together as he stares off, “somewhere out in the Indian Ocean, I guess.” “They were headed to the Maldives- that’s where their plane was flying to” West interrupts, pulling his head from the palm of his hand. “Hold on, how do they know the girls are alive?” Montes queries, sharing a glance between Jared and West whilst the question lingers. Reluctant, Jared considers his options for a moment before turning to Rachel, looking her in the eyes as he speaks softly. “I’m gonna talk to the officers for a minute” the young man murmurs, “you just stay here and I’ll be right back, alright?” Without a word, Rachel nods to the man, releasing his hand as he backs away, walking off with the men in search of privacy. “You guys saw the thing Lincoln did, right?” Jared inquires, dipping into an unoccupied corner and lowering his voice, “well, I think the girl- Suzie- I think she could do it too. He said she did something to the plane and she didn’t deny it.” “She’s- what?- she’s a terrorist?” West responds, his face tightened as he rests against the nearest wall, still supporting himself with the metal cane. “I- maybe? I don’t know what she’s after, but I know she wants this Lincoln guy dead” Jared whispers, opening his mouth to continue without doing so. “What?” Montes wonders aloud, the man’s lips moving nervously without making any words, “you’re not actually speaking.” Closing his eyes with a sigh, Jared licks his teeth and shares a look with the officers, speaking quieter than before. “Whatever Lincoln and Suzie are-” Jared begins, unable to speak the second half before Montes finishes his sentence, already predicting where the dialogue has begun heading, “-you think girls are the same thing.” Closing his eyes, Jared nods emphatically, a new wrinkle added into the officers’ case. “Hold on, you don’t really-” West begins to interject, finally reaching a moment where his original disbelief returns, only for his eyes to widen as a thought arises. “Rookie, pull up your phone” West directs, a brief second of confusion passing before Montes does as told, following the directions West reads to him before reaching his browser. “Type in ‘Praireville building explosion’” West orders, following the officer’s thumbs with his eyes, each letter bubble growing in size as it’s pressed. “Go to ‘images’ and scroll until I tell you to stop” West orders, the process of Montes following his instructions repeating as West’s eyes catch the photo in question. “That! Those are the girls!” West exclaims, fighting through the pain to speak. “Yeah, this picture went around everywhere. It’s why them killing the cop was so covered” Montes responds, watching West’s head shake assuredly. “Yes, but the bust just before they left! That was different!” West exclaims, again beginning to lose the younger men he speaks to. “Before they left, they traded me intel on a drug bust in the outskirts of town” West confesses, “they told me to say they were dealt with and take the drug siege in exchange for their freedom.” “What do either of those have to do with what I just told you?” Jared inquires, his question prompting West to calm himself, speaking clearly and coherently. “They must have known about that explosion just like the bust. They knew, they knew, they knew it was going to happen” West remarks, “so they know about these two things, they become the target of some mutant serial killer, I mean- they’re the only survivors of a fucking plane crash! There must be something to this!” “So you think it’s more of an answer than a theory?” Jared replies, his eyes narrowing as West goes to walk off, “you think what I’m saying is true?” Limping through the exam room, West approaches the curtain Rachel has been left behind, looking at Jared from over his shoulder as he steps forward. “I think we need to figure out where those girls are” West replies, taking the curtain into his hand before yanking it open. “Surprise” Lincoln remarks, sat on the hospital cot where Rachel was last left, his legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded in his lap. Reaching for his gun on instinct, Montes’ aim is thwarted by the sudden gust of wind emptied from his lungs, the firearm sliding across the ground as it falls from his hands. “I knew the first place you’d go was the hospital” Lincoln mocks, stepping off the bed as West and Jared back away, matching his approach forward with one step back. “Where’s Rachel!?” Jared worriedly asks, watching Lincoln’s smile only continue to grow, his eyes beginning to glow blue as he approaches. “She’s right back where you’ll be in just a moment” Lincoln replies, his insinuation failing to strike fear in the young man. Desperate for each breath, Montes rolls on the ground, his eyes staring directly into the ceiling above, its tiles beginning to fall apart. “It’s like I said, Jared- the two of you are pawns. The longer you act like this, the more this game gets prolonged” Lincoln remarks, his smile having grown to such width that he now speaks through gritted teeth. “If you hurt her, I swear to-” Jared begins to warn, his response disallowed from continuing, Lincoln’s interruption foiling him. “Kill me, hurt me, make me suffer?- whatever it is, you’ve said it before” Lincoln replies, extending his hand toward the second of his targets, slowly reaching out for his shirt collar. Mustering the strength to reclaim his gun, Montes turns to the confrontation happening away from him, Lincoln’s attempts at grabbing the young man striking him as unusual. Reclaiming his breaths, Montes holsters his firearm and pushes himself upward, fighting toward the altercation just as Lincoln gets too close for his welcome. With a grunt, Montes watches Lincoln’s finger slip into the sleeve of Jared’s shirt, the young man’s efforts to retreat further proving unproductive. Leaving his feet, Montes throws himself through the air, his hand just grazing Lincoln’s shoulder as the man snaps his free hand. The lone figure uninvolved, West watches Lincoln vanish into thin air, both Jared and Montes, disappearing alongside him. The events having unfolded with such swiftness, West falls backward, losing his balance mid-retreat as the air grows thin, the room’s emptiness yet to feel as truly barren as it does whilst he collides with the ground. | \ Realm of Reality / Their home adorned with more furnishings than before, Scarlett and Vic occupy separate chairs across the room from each other, each girl watching the other quietly, neither wanting to speak first. Their silence amplified by the sound of rushing waves passing their patio, both girls continue to stare at the other, each trying to overwhelm their urge to speak. The tip of her shoe tapping against the floor, Scarlett fills the room with a subtle obstruction, trying to spur Vic into addressing the elephant in the room. Without a sound, Vic looks at Scarlett, staring her in the eyes as she shakes her head, lips pressed firmly together. “Fine, whatever. Can we talk about this Suzie-Lincoln shit!?” Scarlett shouts, officially the first to break. Silent, Vic continues not to speak, adjusting her position in the chair as she crosses one leg over the other, her hand held against the knee. “They’re playing a cat and mouse game with each other and us!?” Scarlett exclaims, continuing to speak whilst Vic looks at her quietly, continuing to retain her composure. “It’s like a multi-dimensional game of fucked-up chess and we’re the centre of it!” Scarlett exclaims, her head falling to the side as her eyes wander aimlessly, “please say something.” Arching the corner of her mouth, Vic stares off, her thoughts too frazzled to piece together seamlessly. “Scar, if the realm’s already decided what’s gonna happen-” Vic begins, her eyes tracing the swirls in their wooden floor’s finishing, her sentence left unfinished. “If the realm’s already decided- what?” Scarlett repeats, again leaving the sentence open-ended, Vic’s head continuing to shake as she looks up, a sour face worn. “What’s the point of fighting it then?” Vic qualms, the answer one that equally angers and disappoints the other woman. “What the fuck do you mean by that?” Scarlett responds, watching Vic sift through her own head from a place of slight offence. “I’m saying there’s no point in driving ourselves mad over shit we can’t change” Vic responds, lifting a stack of money off a nearby table as the knock they’d been waiting for arrives. “What’s the most pressing thing that we know? That there are two people that wanna kill us because they had what we do” Vic continues, opening the door as she finishes her thought, “if that’s what they want, I’ll return the fight happily.” “Uh? Vic!” Scarlett shouts, able to see the visitor knocking at their door before the villa’s owner has the chance to herself. Eyes guided toward the person just beyond her door, Vic’s eyes widen with shock and awe, the man that stands before her practically a ghost as far as her memory reaches. “We have a massive problem” Sheriff West remarks, his eyes slightly empty, his breaths spaced apart. “What are you doing here!?” Scarlett angrily inquires, quickly storming up to Vic’s side, prepared for a fight West has no intentions of starting. “Rachel and Jared are missing and Lincoln did it” West replies, offering too much information for the girls to digest in one sitting. “I- I- I know about your powers” West confesses, the girls’ eyes widening even further, “Jared said Lincoln was gonna use them to kill you and- and I- I don’t know how. But they’re- they’re in trouble and I need your help.” Unable to wipe away the looks of sheer terror on each other’s faces, Vic and Scarlett turn to each other and lock eyes, trying to read the other’s reaction to no avail, their efforts at looking to the other for comfort in a moment where all composure is lost proving futile. Logically lost, Scarlett and Vic return their gaze upon West’s broken body, unsure of how to respond or react, instead standing there with horrified expressions, only able to react on instinct. == Dream Sequence == \ Realm Beyond - Eternal Office /
“But you know why I thought this was a bad idea, right?” Scarlett wonders aloud, Vic purposefully choosing to follow closely behind her. “I do and I don’t care” Vic replies, their destination soon approaching, “if the realm wants to badger us into killing each other, nothing we can do will stop it from getting its way. It knows what it wants, and it’ll find a way to get it.” “That doesn’t mean we just walk right into its traps” Scarlett swiftly calls back, a slight anxiety at the prospect of reentering the all-encompassing, bannister-less mezzanine. “I’m sure the realm itself is as much of a trap as this is” Vic replies, following the young blonde ahead of her up a short set of stone steps. “Then why are we here?” Scarlett replies, turning around with an eager look on her face, Vic stopping just as she does, “why are we doing this at all?” Her head leaning to the left, Vic puts her hand on Scarlett’s chest and gently moves her aside, “we have to sleep at some point” she remarks, strolling past Scarlett on her way to the chambers’ floor. Sighing, Scarlett bows her head and follows after Vic, not wanting to let the girl get too far out of sight. As a few minutes pass, Vic continues to follow her path from the last visit, entering offices perfectly duplicated from the ones she’d entered previously. “Lead me to what you brought me here for!” Vic exclaims, Scarlett still following closely behind, her eyes briefly glancing at the chasm between the massive stretches of space. “All hail the king” a voice whispers, catching Scarlett’s ear just as the girl spins around arduously, unaware of her eyes taking on a luminescent red glow. “Who’s there!?” Scarlett shouts, knowing the voice to have called out from behind her, though unable to find anything, not a figure or a face upon her whirl. “Vic, did you hear that!?” Scarlett inquires, keeping her service weapon aimed toward the sound, her question unanswered, “Vic!?” Unwilling to spend more than a moment glancing back, Scarlett discovers the space ahead of her to be empty, the girl that had once chosen to follow her now having broken too far ahead. “Shit” Scarlett grunts, looking back to the space behind her to find it as empty as she’d seen it to be, giving her the confidence to hurry off in search for her friend. “Vic!” Scarlett exclaims, her weapon readied for war as she shuffles past empty workspaces, still receiving no answer. “Vic, where the fuck are you!?” Scarlett shouts, her efforts thus far failing enough to warrant taking more drastic measures. With a growl, Scarlett lifts the weapon to her head and pulls the trigger, returning her to the realm above and awake from her slumber. \ Realm of Reality / “This is gonna make me look really petty” Scarlett mutters beneath her breath, climbing off her couch and storming through the parlour, the glass patio entrance already open. “Sorry, Vic” Scarlett huffs, pulling in a deep breath before slapping her friend awake, the woman throwing her arms up for protection as her eyes open, the effort to do so pushing her off the patio seat. “What the hell!?” Vic exclaims, gathering her wits after a few moments, realising that she’d been struck out of her slumber. “I’m sorry- I had to!” Scarlett shouts, defending her actions before lifting the obvious question, “where did you go!?” Wiping the side of her face, Vic lets the question linger, her brain still needing a moment to adjust. “What do you mean?” Vic replies, almost as if she were completely unaware of what had happened minutes prior. “You just left! I was following you, then I heard something, and when I turned back, you were gone” Scarlett responds, detailing the events as if they were bullet points. “No, you just walked off” Vic retorts, crawling to the railing and taking a seat against it, her arms wrapped around her bent knees. “No, you walked off” Scarlett counters, yet again met with the same refusal as before. “You just disappeared, Scar. I was telling the realm to show me what it wanted to, then you vanished” Vic replies, a story entirely opposite to that of what Scarlett paints. “And then you just kept walking off, right?” Scarlett interjects, trying to correct her story with information that doesn’t truly fit, her attempts again thwarted. “No, I turned around and started calling for you” Vic replies, her answer prompting Scarlett to turn away shaking her head. “No. No, that’s not what happened” Scarlett replies, adamant in what she’d seen and how the events played out. “Yeah, it is” Vic replies, her friend turning away with her hands on her hips, beginning to walk to the opposite end of the patio. “Why is what I’m saying so hard to believe?” Vic inquires, pulling herself up with the aid of the bannister before walking after Scarlett, subconsciously uncomfortable with the woman’s departure. “Because this isn’t a good sign, Vic!” Scarlett shouts, a single porch light brightening their shared walkway as she turns back. “All of this throne talk, and the king shit, and literally taking each other by the throats!” Scarlett mentions, none of what’s listed being largely easy to ignore in her eyes. “I’m worried about what’s happening. I know we can’t actually kill each other in there, but it just feels like the realm’s pitting us again each other” Scarlett concludes, “I don’t like it.” “I don’t like it either, Scar. Believe it or not, I’m not too interested in killing you” Vic replies, tacking a slight amount of humour on the end to ease tension. “There are just so many unknowns. Even if it’s throwing some heavy shit at us, we need to try to work with the realm” Vic furthers, meeting Scarlett in the patio’s centre. “I know it’s freaky, and maybe even downright fucked up- but we’re in there for a reason” Vic remarks, resting her hand on Scarlett’s shoulder, “we’re not gonna find the answer out here.” Frowning, Scarlett gives Vic a nod and returns to the home’s interior. “I still think I’m gonna stay up the rest of the night” Scarlett murmurs, Vic more than understanding of the need to consider what’s been said. “You know where I’ll be” Vic replies, sliding the patio doors together to cut herself off from the home, the light overhead offering a fair amount of light. Watching Scarlett round a corner and walk off, Vic’s compassionate expression falls to one of worry, the muscles in her face tightening as she lowers the fingers on her right hand into her pocket. As if she knows what she’s doing is wrong, Vic slides her hand free carefully, a folded polaroid tucked between the spaces in her middle and ring fingers. Close enough to the glass panes to fog them with her breath, Vic lets free a sigh as she opens the picture, an old and discoloured photograph of a small family presented upon its unfolding. “What are the two of you hiding?” Vic mutters beneath her breath, staring intently into the picture as she lifts it toward the porch light. Off to the side of the gathered relatives, Suzie and Lincoln stand by each other’s side, dressed in attire reminiscent of 1940’s America. In her eyes, the world that surrounds the photograph begins to grow dark, its colour fading just as the photo does, their appearance one in the same. Within a moment, Vic and the portrait vanish, not a hair left behind to suggest they’d ever been there in the first place. The only sound that passes being the tide that rolls past the stilts their house stands upon, the patio sits vacant, a few more seconds passing before the light that cascades upon it powers down, no motion to trigger it. = Dream Sequence is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = \ Realm of Reality / “Give the knocking a rest, I’m coming!” Montes shouts, his presence called for by a set of repeated, endless knocks. His hand flipping the locks, Montes yanks his front door inward, his expectation to find an impatient snob stood before him somewhat coming to fruition. “Sheriff West” Montes remarks, his superior waiting on the front patio of his small, trailer-sized home, his right hand pressing down upon the cane’s handle. “Would I be allowed to come in for a minute if I promise not to fire you?” West inquires, though speaking with a sarcastic tone, his question appears genuine. Biting his tongue, Montes nods, stepping aside to grant the man entry, the space he sits inside of leaving much to be desired. “This is a nice little- thing” West murmurs, making his best attempts at humour as he turns back, “where’s the rest of it?” Still angry, Montes passes the sheriff, discarding West’s visit and joke by occupying the nearest seat, folding his hands atop his lap. “Did you come here for something?” Montes wonders aloud, his usual eagerness to impress the sheriff surprisingly non-existent, treating the man as an equal for the first time under his employment. “Yes” West responds with a deep breath, beginning to recognise that his drop in has not been received as well as he’d anticipated. “I figured I owed you an explanation” the sheriff continues, approaching a couch one coffee table’s length away, “I should tell you why I’m not going to evidence.” His demeanour unchanged, Montes remains in his seat, patiently waiting for the story he assumes West has crafted. “If this goes into evidence, it won’t be mine for long” West clarifies, settling into his seat whilst masking the pain as best possible, “the moment what’s on this tape is seen by people other than us, this place will be swarming with the feds.” “Why is that a bad thing?” Montes interrupts, his eyelids pressing closer together, “we’ve gotten on this guy since day one, what makes you think this should still even be our case right now?” His lips joining together, West looks to Montes without an answer at first, his default response the best he can manage in a moment of improvisation. “We’re gonna get the guy on the something” West replies, his solution failing to do anything more than earn an eye roll. “Yeah, keep saying that- I’m sure he’ll run out of people to butcher eventually” Montes replies, beginning to push himself out of his chair. “Rookie, what did I tell you I saw in the hospital!? What did you go out to the car to prove? Huh, what was it?” West shouts, stopping the younger man from leaving his seat any further, “when we see this tape, you’ll see it too. Imagine what’s gonna happen when the federal government sees it.” “They’d at least have the tools to track him down, maybe put a stop to this before it gets any worse” Montes answers, West’s head immediately shaking at such a suggestion. “No, they won’t. Think about what this country does to keep their interests intact, what lows they’ll stoop to-” West urges, the fear of such calamity almost bringing a smile over his face, “-imagine what they’d sweep under the rug to reverse engineer some superhuman thug from Praireville, Louisiana.” “Why do I care what happens to a murderer?” Montes quickly retorts, his answer given with the same ease. “Because you’ve got a problem with me sweeping an assault under the rug to keep our reputation in line, just think about what the government would do” West replies, placing the cruiser’s camera onto the coffee table just between them, “for all we know, you might just be giving them the next atomic bomb.” Silent, Montes looks into West’s face, his own hands still resting against the sides of his seat, prepared to stand up and leave if he truly wanted to. “You’re just trying to defend yourself” Montes responds, taking a brief moment to consider the reason behind West’s visit, “you’re already gonna overrule me in evidence and you want me to think you have a good reason.” His head shaking once more, West looks back to the camera, his index and middle fingers guiding the small box across the wooden surface. “I’ve got every reason not to want the public knowing that there’s a serial killer with super powers walking the streets because we can’t catch him” West confesses, situating the recorder just a few centimetres away from the novice deputy, “it’d be the end of our precinct and myself. For that reason, I’m not gonna make the decision.” Confused, Montes finally leans back into his seat, removing his hands from the armrests he’d used to support his initial attempt at departure. “You’re probably the only person with a badge in my unit that would have believed me” West continues, watching Montes’ face lift toward his own, looking him in the eyes as he speaks, “if there’s anyone that I owe the honour of making this choice, it’d be you.” “You know I want it in evidence. Why give me the choice if you know what my intentions are?” Montes queries, the story not adding up as far as he’s concerned. “Because you’re right. We haven’t caught this guy yet, and I can only tell you we’re trying” West replies, promising to let the decision be left in the hands of someone else, “it may be the right decision for all I know, but I can’t make it. It may be fucked up, but my job is to uphold the integrity of the unit first and foremost.” Quiet, Montes looks back to the camera, its lens aimed directly toward him, almost like an eye watching anxiously for his decision. “I don’t like what happened to those girls, but I don’t regret it. You let the world know you harboured a predator and good luck convincing the public that you’re looking out for them” West chuckles, coping with the uneasiness that burns deep within him through humour, “You’ve got the stones that I don’t for this, I just wanted you to understand both sides first.” Looking back to West, Montes remains quiet, trying to read the sheriff’s expression for any ill-intent that may hide behind his worried grin. | \ Paradox / The road she walks down comprised of little more than flat gravel, Vic walks through the blistering sun in little more than a white tank top and loose shorts. Following a long, wooden fence seemingly crafted by hand, the girl catches sight of a large, multi-family home just in the distance. Recognising the exterior, though its colours appear much more bold and bountiful, Vic sets her travels on the destination ahead, an audible crunch emerging beneath every step she takes. Eventually reaching her destination, Vic stops at a small, person-sized gap in the fence, a mailbox standing beside her whilst a newspaper lays at her feet. Dropping to her knee, Vic stares toward the paper’s header, ‘June 20th, 1941’ the black lettering reads, prompting the girl to stare back toward the large home just ahead. “Picture time!” a young girl blurts out, the first to emerge from within the home, her arms thrown toward the sky as she sprints into the yard. “Mary, don’t you go dirtying your dress!” a second woman calls out, speed walking toward the enthusiastic child whilst holding up the puffy skirt to her dress. “You can’t be much older than me” Vic murmurs beneath her breath, a young man of seemingly equal age soon to follow, aiding the young woman in racing after the child. “I’d buy the little rascal if I were you!” a second woman remarks, the cap just over her head unable to mask the familiarity of her voice or face from Vic’s mind. “Don’t tell them how to parent their child, Suzannah. You’ll have your chance just as they do” an older and taller man with grey hair and black skin replies, a number of other, equally random faces following behind him. In no specific order, black and white men and women, all differing in age and appearance spill out from the home. “This is a lot less racist than I was worried it’d be” Vic jokes beneath her breath, continuing to stare from the home’s front porch. “Peter, please don’t stain your clothes!” a second voice exclaims, equally familiar to Vic as Suzie’s was as he exits the home, amongst the last few to do so. “Leave him be, Christopher” an older woman replies, laying her hand upon the man’s shoulder to comfort him. “Christopher?” Vic repeats beneath her breath, watching the last few relatives trickle onto the front lawn in preparation. “Christoper, stand next to me!” Suzie exclaims, other members of the combined families mixing together, coming into one diverse, expansive lot. Having coupled her hands together, Vic quickly pulls them apart, taking two steps past the entrance having expected time to stop. Unaffected, the family continues to bunch together, staring into the camera just a few metres ahead with steady faces, not a smile to offer, nor a look of dissatisfaction to present. Confused, Vic looks to her hands quietly, hearing the cameraman snap the portrait undisturbed, the moment in the photo having now occurred. A realisation dawning over her, Vic extends her hand toward the grounded newspaper, trying to lift the bundle of articles into the air with no luck, her abilities inconveniently non-existent. Watching the family disperse, Vic sets her eyes upon a boy no older than six years old, sneaking through uncut grass to reach him. “Hey, kid” Vic whispers, watching the boy pick at the pedals of a flower as she kneels before him, “hey!” Her call for the boy’s attention unanswered, Vic reaches for his shirt sleeve, attempting to tug at the loose cloth that falls from his arm. “Hey, ki-!” Vic grunts again, her hand passing not only through the cotton of the young boy’s shirt, but his arm entirely, reaching the opposite side with no effect. “Peter, come in for lunch!” the man she knows to be Lincoln exclaims, ushering the boy unknowingly stood beside Vic through the front door. More confused than she was a moment prior, Vic lifts herself off the ground, watching the boy hurry off as Lincoln watches, unable to miss Vic from where he stands. Expecting to be discovered, Vic watches Lincoln step aside, allowing Peter to pass before joining him inside, completely disregarding Vic’s presence as if she had none. Her mouth slightly ajar, Vic takes a second look around the yard, a tree with a tire swing and a large garden just half a kilometre away all the land has to offer beside the home itself. Able to feel the summer heat graze her pale skin, Vic throws her hands outward, a ghost to a world sentenced to the history books by her era. Speechless, Vic stares down the road she’d travelled to reach the home, a perfect view of what lies ahead from the incline she stands atop of. In the near distance, Vic notices a figure dressed in all black clothing, its pose aimed directly opposite her own. Lifting one hand into the air, the figure makes a gesture in Vic’s direction and vanishes, the colour of the home and accompanying yard beginning to fade along with her. Replacing the bright, mid-day sun, the moonlight shines over the Arabian Sea as Vic returns from her travels, the suddenness of how she’d been escorted from the pass bringing with it a brief struggle. Suddenly touching upon her hardwood patio, Vic stumbles backward, tumbling into the bannister before sliding to the ground, exiting her paradox with as many questions as she’d entered with. | \ Realm of Reality / “What are you doing here?” Lincoln inquires, an obviously defensive tone in his voice, the gesture on which amuses the woman across from him. “Please, I could ask you the same thing” Suzie replies, her lip curling as the smile on her face is replaced by a grimace, “you’re supposed to be dead, brother.” “And you’re supposed to be ruling the realm beyond” Lincoln quickly retorts, a quick glance given toward Razul and Kazro, unintimidated by their silence. “Then I guess we both have some things to explain” Suzie replies, summoning a bright, burning red blade from thin air. “I’ll ask you again, Suzie” Lincoln remarks, his own dagger readied, “what are you doing here?” “I found out I had company in the realm above” Suzie responds, yet to move a muscle in her brother’s direction, reluctant to pursue war without intel. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t take you for the child-type” Suzie reiterates, gesturing to the puzzled and tortured teens with her chin. “They’re my pawns” Lincoln replies, watching Suzie’s eyes narrow from intrigue, “they’ll set me up to take the king.” Humoured by the answer, Suzie lets a laugh escape her lungs, lowering her blade for the slightest moment. Offered an opening, Lincoln lunges forward, directing his blade at Suzie’s chest unsuccessfully, her moment of weakness proving to be for show as she leaps aside, dodging his blow. “Of course you think that shit would work” Suzie grunts, her dagger prepared once more. “What do you mean by that?” Lincoln inquires, yet again subjected to being the source of Suzie’s laughter. “You go through all these hoops and jumps for the dumbest reasons” Suzie remarks, the pair beginning to circle the room, each daring the other to jump first. “Leave it to little miss impatience to just jump into things without a plan” Lincoln replies, his mockery only further amusing the woman. “Oh, I have a plan” Suzie replies, hunching toward the ground as their circle proceeds. “I kill you, then I kill the girls, then I take what’s mine” Suzie comments, now becoming the one responsible for making Lincoln laugh, “all you’ve gotta know is the line of descent, brother.” “So, all you’re interested in is the girls outliving me- I see” Lincoln replies, his eyes pressing closer together, “why drug them on the plane then?” “I didn’t know you were still around until they made it to the beach” Suzie replies, stopping the circle as she shrugs, “I also didn’t know the plane was the last tragedy. I figured they’d passed that part by then.” “I see. We have our chess board set up according to plan, and now we’re all waiting for someone to make the first move” Lincoln replies, a sudden wave of electricity coursing through his blade, “I guess we’d better start the game.” “Razul, Kazro- let me finish this” Suzie orders, allowing the brutes to return themselves to the realm beyond, only the siblings left to settle the differences they’d created. “Are you gonna try to stab me in the back again?” Lincoln inquires, watching Jared hurry across the room, shielding Rachel behind himself. “Mortals” Lincoln scoffs, taking his eye off the ball for just a moment as he shakes his head, a genuine opening handed to Suzie on a silver platter. Swiping at the man’s chest, Suzie draws Lincoln’s focus back onto the fight, the room illuminated in vibrant red and blue colours, following the sibling that displays them. “We used to make such a good team, Suzie” Lincoln grunts, his eyes turning a solid blue as he steps forward, “we could’ve done great things!” His blade barely grazing her shoulder, Lincoln misses his second shot, the woman responding as he’d expect. “One of us needed to die, Lincoln- I wasn’t going to let it be me” Suzie responds, dodging a second, more surprising attack as Lincoln lunges forward, taking the opportunity to make a second gash in the man’s chest. “Ah, you bitch!” Lincoln exclaims, his eyes and dagger briefly turning red in a moment of anger, soon fading back to blue, “how’d you even make it out of purgatory!?” “Nice try, Christopher” Suzie mocks, slashing at his wrist as he makes a third attempt at her, failing just as he had the prior two times. “You’ll be heading there soon enough anyway” Suzie remarks, the man standing before the exit in a fit of rage, “I’m not giving you a way out.” His angered expression soon turning to horror, Lincoln’s tunnel vision subsides, the vibrant blue in his eyes fading as he looks to Rachel’s bed, his prisoners absent. Taking her eye off the goal, Suzie peers toward the bed with a smile, the red in her eyes fading all the same. “Hahaha! Look at that!” Suzie exclaims, watching Lincoln frantically pan around the room, fearing the worst. “Fuck it, I can’t kill you now!” Suzie exclaims, releasing her dagger to the realm its originated from, replacing her hold on its handle with a wave of her hand, “I wanna see what happens next!” Basking in Lincoln’s troubles, Suzie snaps her fingers together, vanishing into thin air just as her mercenaries had. His adrenaline subsiding, Lincoln clutches at his chest as he makes a break for the bunker’s exit, ascending to ground level in a panicked haze. “No, no no no no no no no” Lincoln whispers, hands pressing against each side of his head, not a sight of either teen. Only able to follow the footprints left in the grass until he reaches the parkway, Lincoln’s brief trail runs cold, the teenagers having slipped from his grasp just as the realm itself once had. == Dream Sequence == |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
March 2023
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