KP - Episode 21 (All-Patrons)

Words Count: 4246

A/N: It's not that easy.

A/N: I forgot to make this Ep available to all Paid Members, so here. Please notify me next time.

Morning comes, yet the boy can only stare blankly, that first ray of light feels faded and washed compared to the blinking headlights of the police, accompanied by their screeching sirens.

“God, have you seen the state she's in.”

He won't get much sleep today, he can already tell.

“What kind of monster can do such a thing?”

Every time he closes his eyes, there she is- bleeding; battered and bruised with what feels like hundreds- thousands of puncture wounds constantly leaking crimson. The boy can hear the hushed whispers; see the finger-pointing as clear as day.

“He killed his own mother.”

Try as they may, growing up in his household means he always has to pay attention and take care not to upset her, not it does much given last night’s… Event.

“What a psychopath. He should be under the fucking prison.”

Tears well up at the corners of his emerald eyes.

“Look at him… Acting like he’s the fucking victim.”

A neighbor of theirs- Mrs. Layla who was once so kind, so understanding, hisses.

“I can’t even imagine what she must've experienced. Nine months of pain.” She repeats, as if to further drive her point in. “Nine whole months, and this is her thanks.”

Was it his fault his own mother messed up her life? “Shut up.”

“Bastard.”

Was it his fault his father got a girl pregnant in junior highschool and his grandparents, in an effort to cover up the incident, throw dimes and nickels at them?

“Animal.”

Is he to blame for all of the Earth’s problems?

“BEAST!”

“SHUT. UP!”

He roars, quieting the judgmental observers in an instance… Unfortunately, though silencing them might’ve proven easily done, destroying that inner-voice seems to be a different matter entirely.

“Shut up.”

Unlike the earlier, this scream’s without heat or strength-

‘They judge me before they even get to know me.’

It is one of pure resignation- of hopelessness.

‘I WAS DOOMED FROM BIRTH

THE WORLD TURNED ITS BACK ON ME,

AND STILL, IT CONTINUES TO DEMAND MORE! MORE! MORE!

WHY DO WE HAVE TO SUFFER FOR OTHERS’ MISTAKES?

ANSWER ME!’

— Kaleidoscopic Polaris —

Rampaging through the facility, we open any cage we find, staring while the animals rip-n’-tear until all that’s left are the remains of their former abusers. We had made sure each and every one was clear about our intentions- our desire to help before allowing them outside.

The situation may have been different-

Hell, it may’ve devolved in an even worse mess, but it appears the animals, both prey and predator alike have come to an, albeit uneasy truce of sort. Snorting, I stretch my aching body, holding back a wave of tiredness and hunger trying to bring me to my knees. Another transformation and I may really pass out from exhaustion. In fact, even maintaining this one is taking a lot out of me.

Though I do want to check out their technology, now that the facility's personnel has been slaughtered by a horde of enraged animals, it’s not realistic to play around with delicate techs using these bear paws of mine. It's also rather unwise to transform, for remnants of Hydra are sure to linger in some unexplored nook and cranny.

I can’t muster the energy to care anymore.

Chest heaving, I rest against a broken panel, eyes closed as the urge to vomit surges within the bottom of my stomach. “U- Urgh…” I moan painfully, because that’s all I can do while stuck as a grizzly bear, drawing the concerned eyes of the wild animals in the room- Nanna’s and Blake’s mostly. I scan the herd. Of the seventy we initially broke out of captivity, only twelve are still alive, though the majority are severely maimed.

Raising my front leg, I realize I can no longer hold onto the transformation. Paws shifting into hands, I discard my gauntlets, slicing my wrist until it’s dripping.

If I’m right, I can gather even more transformations via distributing my Strain, which is accompanied a power-boost that will undoubtedly be of immense help. It does not seem to work when passed onto humans, as showcased with Bryan and Jaime whom I last saw taken to his grandparents’ by the worried mother. She’s afraid the Gift Julian gave him would make the kid a target, and I can’t find it in myself to disagree.

My Alter-Ego’s decision was a spur-of-the-moment thing that might have really fucked us over. The boy was in no real danger and we really needed the Kaleidoscopic Point he used up, at least until the Shop’s added to the App. I sigh again, gesturing for the wounded beasts to approach. They all seem skeptical- unsettled by the transformation back into a human most likely, “Come.” I order weakly, cringing when I cough up a hairball.

“Gross…”

It takes a while, but eventually one does seem to understand and heed my order.

It’s a jaguar, its eye having been gorged by a stray bullet earlier.

None of these animals will survive in the wild, weak as they are…

I’ve never been one to gamble- memories of my mother’s haunting cries, who had sought to change her life through luck haunt me ‘till this day, but– “It’s a 50/50 coin toss anyway… Why the Hell not?”

I laugh, ruthlessly stomping out the guilt. Sure, there is a chance they won’t survive the changes my blood will bring, but it’s better than bleeding out to death, and it certainly beats starving- feeling their life-forces slip away a smidgen at a time due to their injuries. “Give us Glory, or give us Death… Am I right?” I tilt my head, although I doubt the jaguar understands.

‘Finally… After a decade straight… You’ve finally said something pleasing to the ears. Is the Sun going to rise in the West?’ A second burst of laughter causes me to heave, clutching my chest and mouth to stop the stampede of half-digested, processed foods trying to leave the pit of my stomach. “What do you say–”

I take a quick look at the jaguar’s underside. “Girl?” Unlike Blake, the beast’s underside is not nearly as furry, hence it’s quite easy for me to determine her gender. I don’t think she comprehends a third of what I said, but she lumbers forth anyhow, tongue flicking at the self-created injury on my wrist in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Instead, the majestic beast collapses- all of a sudden thrown in the onset of a seizures Blake and I are rather familiar with…

The grizzly bear already knows what will happen next, the rest of the herd don’t, and they begin to avoid both she and I like the plague- most blindly rushing to the door in search of freedom, though I do notice a few who stubbornly remain… Discounting Nanna and Blake, four stay to observe the jaguar’s transformation out of curiosity. ‘Curiosity kills the cat.’

Julian hums, and I cannot help but admit to myself, ‘Even though we fight and bicker like an old couple–’

‘Don’t you say it!’

Julian threatens.

‘Don’t you fucking dare!’

But I pay him no heed.

‘We actually have a lot in common, huh?’

There’s a moment of silence- a brief pause before my Alter-Ego curses.

‘Fuck off. Fuck you. Go fuck yourself!’

I roll my eyes tiredly, hair disheveled and sticking to my forehead. “Turning to anger… Classic. Also, I’m pretty sure that’s just called masturbation–” Like a petulant child, Julian slams the wooden door to the hillside house within our mindscape.

It’s a pretty depressing sight in there: A spanning hill which’s completely barren with more dirt than weed; the Sun is blotted by a layer of dust too; and where there’re supposed to be soft, fluffy white clouds, there exist only dark masses tinted a hellish orange. Although, the oddest part about our mindscape must be the Dividing Line- the physical manifestation of the rift within our minds. At the end of the day, Julian and I are one.

That, neither of us can ever deny,

Still, putting it into words just feel so… Difficult. Not even I, even though I am clearly the more rational part between us, am struggling to open the conversation.

We can’t stay separated like this forever, but which direction to take, I wonder?

Should we fuse?

Should one kill the other?

The first will result in both of our deaths and the creation of a new persona, yet it is also the option that ensures fairness.

As for the latter, “Dammit. Is there no other way? Wait…” I narrow my eyes as a thought hits me. “Can we split?”

The more I think, the more logical it sounds, until I can no longer wait to consult Annabella and have to reach for my phone, but of course, that’s precisely when the pain decides to make itself known- a violent, turbulent whirlwind far more intense than the last. “Why- Why's it even worse this time?!” I clench my teeth, trying my best to brace the torturous sensation that has since been magnified tenfold compared to what I experienced earlier with Blake. ‘What causes this change? Is it the species? Gender? Age?’

My mind constantly wanders in a desperate attempt to suppress the agony that seems to permeate my soul.

‘Let’s assume Nanna counts as my first ever…’ I pinch my brows to find the term, until a fitting one crosses my mind. ‘Bonded, and Blake is the second. That'd make her the third… Am I onto something here? Will the torture continue to magnify and grow every time we get a new [Beast Transformation]?’ Receiving the [Grizzly Form] was tolerable, but this is really starting to exceed my threshold. I cast a glance at the rest of the animals, mentally weighing the pros and cons.

Those thoughts immediately flee my mind seeing the animals’ innocent eyes. “Do what's right, not what’s easy…”

I laugh, and it's a self-deprecating thing.

“How could I forget that?”

Offering my wrist to the animals, I chuckle dryly. “It seems we have a lot more in common than I thought.”

Maybe he’s right… Maybe I am a selfish bastard- a gentlemanly Mask put up for the world to see.

It isn’t like I feel amazing doing good either…

In fact, I feel nothing.

At least Julian has the courage to admit his needs and desires; at least he’s willing to fight for what he believes in, albeit most of his wants and needs are inherently destructive in nature. In the end, I am just a ghost who wanders the world aimlessly trying to live out the dreams of others- something like myself, it will be better if I give my life in exchange for these unfortunate souls a fighting chance.

I gesture, arms shaking and shivering due to the spreading heat frying my nervous system in bursts which continuously worsen. One by one, the animals take turn savoring my lifeblood and collapse soon after. Dark spots creep within my vision and all sounds begin to fade, slowly but surely.

‘Are we dying?’

I ponder, flashing back and forth between the real world and our mindscape.

‘NO! WE CAN’T DIE, NOT YET!’

Julian rages against the weakness that envelops us- the darkness which consumes our mind piece by piece,

‘There’s so much we still have to do- so much of the world left to explore and experience!’

But neither of us has the strength to fight Death.

‘Dammit! You are the hopeful one, do something!’

Such is the nature of Life, to suffer until our ends,

‘JULIUS, HELP ME!’

Some shall find peace within their lifetime; most never will.

‘FIGHT!’

My Alter-Ego continues to beg,

‘I’m just so tired of this… Of everything.’

Each day, it feels like I’m simply moving ever closer to Death, forever without a purpose and it’s– ‘Huh…?’

‘FIGHT!’

I feel a gentle warmth on my neck alongside wetness. I’ve felt this many times before- it’s Nanna. She would land on my shoulder, chirp until my ears are about to bleed before trying to preen my neck- quite painfully may I add- even though there is no feather to preen. With great difficulty, I pry open my eyelids, seeing worried gazes focused me.

‘Are you going to leave them?’

Julian’s echoing voice hammers at the edge of my consciousness.

‘Are you so weak that you’re just going to give up after one tiny. FUCKING. STUMBLE?!’

Reaching for one last chin-scratch, I find myself grabbing his hand instead of Nanna's head- our fingers interlocked. Where our flesh comes into contact, brilliant golden rays erupt- creating a vortex that sucks us both within.

‘Just this once… Let us join forces just this once.’ The reluctance in his voice is clear for all who can hear us, and our forms merge. For the very first time in a decade or so, I feel whole- in conflict with myself no longer and likewise, the pain which was once unbearable lessens in an instant.

For the first time, we don't concern ourselves with the Past nor the Future;

For the first time, we see Hope and it is– “Beautiful…”

Julian and Julius’ voices possess their own qualities even though they’re two sides of the same coin.

The Id's is laced with rage and bitterness and even raspier than a long-time smoker;

[So often we’re concerned with the Mask we allow the world to see-

The idea of the Transcendent-Self and forget the fact we are animal ourselves.]

The Mask's in comparison, has a gentle, boyish- nigh idealistic touch to it.

[To ignore our emotions and needs and do everything solely for the sake of goodness without comprehension or understanding is to exist, not live;]

The result is something unburdened by wrath, yet far more genuine.

[Yet to indulge endlessly is to devolve and lose our minds within the turbulence of the world.]

Society will force us to live a certain way- it will tell us to do good purely for goodness’ sake,

[Equilibrium must be reached in order for there to be Peace.]

And like fools, we blindly trust their words- discard our desires in a hope we can find a light at the end of the tunnel; “Come!”

[Sometimes, the only way to help the world is to be selfish;]

I challenge, standing tall against the crushing waves of despair with a smirk on my face, “I’ll kick your teeth in.”

[And at times, only through the disregarding of the self can we save ourselves from our Inner-Demons.]

What threatens us is Death herself who possesses no true physical manifestation. There is no teeth to kick in; no face to pummel and no limb to break, but so what? “Give me Glory or give me Death!”

There’s no in-between,

No room for compromise.

My flickering form charges within the tidal wave, pushing asides fear and hesitation, I punch and kick and scream- raging until I feel overwhelmed by exhaustion, but there is Hope. Even in our darkest moment, there lies a tiny glimmer of light. Though small, it’s enough to relight my resolve as I brace myself, enduring the relentless torture until I manage to charge through the other side- wounded, yet alive and triumphant.

There’s nothing here but an ever-stretching expanse of white,

[Unfortunately, changes are terrifying–]

No house, no hill, just never-ending emptiness except for a old, dusty wooden chest.

[And to dare hope is to experience hurt and disappointment.]

“What the–” It beckons, constantly whispering unintelligible nonsense in my ears.

[Fear will hold you back, and the Past will drag you kicking and screaming back to the depth of the Abyss.]

Gentle as they are, the voices reek of malice. “What the Hell is that?” I question, my recently-mustered courage plummeting at a rapid pace, yet I cannot stop my hands.

I want to- Nay, I have to see for myself what lays inside.

Tremblingly, I break the rusted lock with a punch, throwing the lid open to reveal what looks to be a swirling Singularity, from whence filthy, disgusting carcasses, whose flesh and bones are rotting and blackened by necrosis- their marrows crawling with fattened maggots, start to drag their remains out. “What the fuck?” I backtrack, my newfound Peace broken by a deep-seeded terror I can’t quite grab heads-n’-tails of. Odd, considering all I’ve been through up until this point.

Between the Necromorphs; literal Nazis and their the human experiments, one would think I would have grown desensitized to the sight by now.

‘No… Something’s wrong.’

I could understand if the thing locked within were a Lovecraftian; Cosmic Horror, but a few Undead should not have brought about such dread, not unless– It’s them?! “You worthless piece of shit!”

The vaguely feminine shape moves towards me- its body constantly shifting like an abstract drawing.

“It’s you! If only I hadn’t had you!”

It screams,

“That- That filthy thing isn’t our grandson!”

And on cue, the other rest joins in.

“Get it out! Get it out!”

[Sadly, even when the answer’s clear,]

Heart hammering in my chest, I stumble back into the darkness, but the tidal wave throws me out, as if rejecting my very presence. “Goddam you, let me inside! Let me in!” Again and again, my clenched fists repeatedly hit the Barrier, yet in spite of my further enhanced-strength– “It is regenerating?!” Like a dog chasing its own tail, my efforts prove futile ‘till a thought strikes me, ‘We're able to move through it earlier, the only thing that has changed so far… Is me.’

[The courage to truly embrace strength exceeds what one person can muster.]

The realization slams into me like a eighteen-wheeler.

Gritting my teeth, I dig into my chest, pulling in opposite directions…

Slowly, pieces of myself start to fall down in sludge-like slobs- shattering in countless motes which converge to form two different outlines. One has wild, untamed hair and posture seems to contain naught but rage- not the same one I was used to, instead one born out of fear; the other with his back straight, yet face shadowed by his swaying bang.

While clearly less afraid, he too dares not lay eyes on the Undead.

My own frame flickers in and out of existence, yet I continue to tear myself apart, convincing myself with, ‘This is the only way…’

It does not quite hurt as I had expected, but to lose that wholeness- feeling it gradually fade away to make place for the usual depressing emptiness, the unbridled wrath and crippling anxiety hurts. Not physically maybe, yet I am close to giving up internally… What can I do? Perhaps we really are doomed to stay like this forever… Perhaps–

— Kaleidoscopic Polaris —

Eyelids slowly cracking open, Bryan tries to sit up only to realize his limbs have been bound. The white lights above hum with an headache-inducing buzz which makes his mind whirl and his stomach roll- bubbling with undigested and acidic foods. “Where–? Julius?” Screams echo outside as the lights turn from the former white to a blinking red.

Forcing himself up, the private is somehow able to wrench free of the syringes pumping his bloodstreams full of anesthesia. “What the Hell is going on out there?” But, when he attempts to wrench himself free of the bindings, he finds that he cannot.

The restraints are simply too strong and flexible, they are not even physical, instead strings of energy he can’t rip apart.

He stares at the thick cords supplying his bindings with power, before withdrawing his large wingspan into his shoulder-blades, then unfolds them again- free of the restraints. Next, he stretches, trying to slice the cords with the tips of his feathers, unfortunately due to how dizzy he feels, the first few attempts all fail… It is a good thing– “Mama ain’t raise no quitter.” The private reminds himself, and this time he finally succeeds.

Crawling off the table, the private falls with a loud thud, desperately plopping himself up via the very table on which he was once bound to. Of course, because Life is just a bitch like that, Hydra soldiers decide to burst through the door that instance. Bryan’s heart pounds in his chest as he scans the room for an escape route.

Adrenaline surges through his veins, but then he realizes they look no better than him- their power-suits in tatters; their limbs bleeding from what look to be bite-marks.

Their chests heave, and when he focuses on his hearing, Bryan can hear their hearts pounding left and right, similar to his own.

Quickly, the private assesses his surroundings while the Hydra soldiers fan out, their weapons trained on him as they yell in German.

Sweat drips down his brow as he contemplates his next move.

With an unexpected burst of energy, he leaps onto the table, using it as a platform to launch himself toward the group. Gunshots erupt all around him, accompanied by the thundering sound of bullets whizzing through the air. The Angel swallows his fear, wings enveloping his entire body to block the shots. He grasps the edges of the ventilation shaft above and begins to pull, tired muscles straining- “Have a taste of Freedom, motherfuckers!”

The soldiers have already closed in, their steps echoing with a chilling rhythm, realizing too late they’re within his range.

Panic overtakes the ground as the ceiling partially comes down, burying them in a pile of rubbles. With one final burst of strength, Bryan hoists himself up and wedges his body into the space of the ventilation system. It's a tight fit, the narrow confines scraping against his skin and clothing.

But it’s still better than having to fight his way out. He crawls through the dimly lit passage, the hum of machinery and the distant shouts of soldiers- the haunting howls of beasts fading into the background. Travelling the labyrinthine vents, Bryan’s mind races with thoughts. ‘Is it Julius?’

It can only be the young man, that is unless this branch of the SS happen to be so incompetent that they lost control of their own experiments.

He knows he can't let himself be recaptured, and thus he crawls- propelled forwards by his resolve and returning strength. After what feels like an eternity navigating through the complex network, at last, he sees a glimmer, signaling an exit. Bryan crawls towards it with renewed vigor, heart pounding with anticipation within his cavity.

With a final push, he emerges from the vent and finds himself in an abandoned maintenance room.

The air is stale and the room is filled with dust, but it feels like the sweetest freedom Bryan has ever experienced.

The Angel of Death takes a moment to catch his breath, his mind still whirling, peeking out with the door as his cover. The scene outside is horrifying, with discarded limbs; severed heads and spilt organs everywhere.

He even spots a few critters- lab rats chewing on a headless torso. The situation doesn’t look bright for Hydra, but just in case, Bryan swipes a janitor’s uniform from a nearby locker in hope of disguising himself in plain sight.

As he slips through the shadows of the facility, the animals he encounters avoid him like the plague, as if they can tell by instinct which's the superior predator- something the Angel’s more than thankful of. With every step, Bryan grows ever closer to the hangar, where the private is instantly met with an even gorier and horrifying sight. Corpses laid unburied; and tossed limbs are left to be chewed upon. “Holy… Was this- Was it all done by Julius.”

For a guy vehemently claims he is against killing, “Kid sure went apeshit on these fools…” Realistically, he knows the young man couldn’t have done all this by himself, the animals his eyes catch absolutely everywhere must’ve had a hand too, but this is far worse than what he initially had in mind. "Gott ist auf unserer Seite. Alle Abschaum wird gereinigt, wenn der Krieg endet."

The speakers blare with the despairing voice of whom Bryan's ready to bet his lifesaving- meager as it is- is the facility’s commanding officer. “A cornered dog will bite…” He will recognize such tone anywhere, regardless of the language barrier.

Fear creeps into his eyes as a robotic voice erupts, "SELBSTZERSTÖRUNGSSEQUENZ WURDE AKTIVIERT! ALLE MITARBEITER WERDEN GEBETEN, DIE EINRICHTUNG SOFORT ZU VERLASSEN!!!” The Angel of Death doesn’t need to understand German to know the content of her message. “Fuck! God- FUCK!”

He screams in a fit of rage, abandoning stealth entirely as he bursts through the mechanical doors- the heat of his wings melting the steels to a puddle, “Abruf gestartet. 10… 9… 8… 7…” Bryan is close to getting out, when he notices the slumped form of Julius, resting against one of the empty aircrafts, surrounded by a herd of animals- each more panicked than the last.

“Fuck…”

The Angel cusses.

“Sonuvabitch! I HATEbeing the good guy!”

Again, he is forced to abandon his plan, rushing to Julius’ side, whose ever-shifting form squirms uncomfortably, the Angel spreads his shimmering wings, encasing the whole group with the pair, thinking since he can regenerate heat from them anyway, he should be able to handle a little explosion. Luckily, the animals don’t fight him.

In fact, he even feels a sense of familiarity radiating from each. “Let’s hope for the best.”

“3… 2… 1.”

Whiteness consumes everything,

And all Bryan knows is pain.